Tractor Dancing

Time chugs along and chugs along and then you are deposited abruptly at the long-awaited station, and it’s not at all as you had anticipated. I am writing this as the visit of our grandson and his parents commences. I have eagerly awaited this event, filled with yearning and daydreams and a giddy impatience I could barely quell. Now, after a few days––and it’s hard to admit this without sounding ungrateful––I feel somewhat engulfed.

Please don’t get me wrong––my love for this little boy is so enormous, I don’t know what to do with it. He delights me. At the same time, he truly is the minister of chaos, unleashing unprecedented havoc in our humdrum household, invading every corner with his relentless curiosity and hands-on exploration, and requiring constant monitoring and vigilance for his own protection.

And now there are five of us inhabiting a small, off-the-grid house on a rocky ledge, and many needs to coordinate. We’re doing okay, though, other than the cold Monte has already acquired…probably some variation of what our doctor referred to as “pediatric revenge.” I’m still waiting for my turn.

Nevertheless, I could easily wax poetic about the marvels of Felix, but I’ll spare you that for now. Grandparent bragging gets tedious fast. Suffice it to say, he is a vessel of joy spilling over––the most inquisitive, analytical, and enthusiastic human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.

But he’s exhausting.

Anyway, I’ve written a lot about the wonders of living here at this ranch…and how, indeed, I am, and likely always will be, still amazed. But Felix has prompted me to look at aspects of it that had escaped my attention, and to experience wonder differently.

Yesterday, for example, we went over to the barn area to investigate tractors, bulldozers, horse trailers, and even a chipper. There were ropes and tools and engine parts housed under open hoods, with all their pistons and gaskets and intriguing complexities exposed. Dump trucks and water trucks were lined up and ready for duty, and a stack of oil pipes were being repurposed for fencing. How have I not previously detoured to look at this stuff and be suitably fascinated? I’ve never been the slightest bit curious about what goes on back there in the barn area––now it all seems sort of beautiful, a symphony of utility.

Felix wanted to know the name and purpose of everything. He sat on the seat of a tall open Case tractor with a very large bucket, and he searched for the ignition key. He’s two years old and barely three feet tall, but he’s quite certain that he’s capable of operating heavy equipment.

Along came cowgirl Kathi, welcoming the farrier, who had come to trim the hooves of one horse and replace the shoes of another. He lifted each leg, one by one, cupped the hoof in his hand, scraped out what I suppose was bits of gravel, and meticulously trimmed thick horseshoe shaped pieces of the nail. This too was amazing.

We didn’t stay for the fitting and replacement of the horseshoes, though, because we were eager to go home and examine the contents of Papa’s tool shed, and some of us wanted a snack. As we drove back, we heard the whistle of a passing train, and we saw three boats in the ocean, and everything was shining.

Later, upon request, I made up a tractor song and dance. I didn’t know I had it in me, but Felix said, “Just Nonna!”

What could I do?

Sure enough, I channeled the essence of a tractor in motion. My voice deepened, I made myself heavy and big, and I sort of pulled and lifted and stomped around. It was my finest attempt at dancing since I twirled like an autumn leaf last year.

The day ended with a glorious spectacle of tropical clouds scattered across the sky like feathers and confetti.