Chronicles of the Long Shot Farm

Two Men and a Tractor: The Cup Holder

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Some problems are as old as Farming. Man versus Rock. Man versus Stump. But since the combustion engine: Man versus Tractor. Here we chronicle the triumphs and failures of Mankind and the Tractors at the Long Shot Farm.

The Cup Holder

It is hour seven. The sun is now high in the sky. Too high. And on the Rust colored tractor, there is no shade, no air-conditioning, because it was built in 1958 when “Real Men” worked the Earth. But there is still daylight, and there is still mowing to be done. Grass is high and weeds are working their way through. And the heat is beating down. So the Farmer feels a deep thirst, and reaches down to grab his Drink. But there is no Drink.  No. Drink. For there is no cup holder. Silently, the Farmer curses, raises his fist to the sky, but continues mowing. For there is still Sun in the sky, and still weeds that need to die.

The Farmer returns after the day is done, and finds his Welder, installing a muffler on one of the tractors. “Lars! We need a cup holder. For my thirst rages within me out in the field, and it demands satisfaction.”

Now on a Farmer’s tractor, one cannot just weld on any old cupholder. No, it needs to be large enough to hold both a jug and a mug, including handle. Jug for the afternoon, but coffee is always the order of the morning. So the Welder sauntered into the shed which houses the tools and all things that might be one day useful. After much rummaging, he found it. An old one quart Folgers coffee can: also somewhat rust colored. Now this coffee can is truly old, for it is metal, not plastic. Inside are the same 6 nails it had stoically guarded for the last three decades. “It will do,” muttered the Welder. Large enough for the mug or jug.

For such a delicate piece of metal, only precision TIG welding will do. By arcing from a tungsten tip a high wattage current, enveloped by a layer of argon gas, one can join together that which was made separate without fear of burning or oxidizing. But only when wielded by the skillful welder.

After the weld was made, the Farmer came to inspect. With but a glance and a nod, he muttered, “It will do.”

The next day, as the Farmer ventured back out to the fields in the Rust colored tractor, thermos firmly secured, the Welder looked on. “But that tire looks flat!”

And so goes the eternal battle of Man and Tractor.

Posted by Anja Weyant

Two Men and a Tractor: The High Lift

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Some problems are as old as Farming. Man versus Rock. Man versus Stump. But since the combustion engine: Man versus Tractor. Here we chronicle the triumphs and failures of Mankind and the Tractors at the Long Shot Farm.

The High Lift

Our story begins on a beautiful Spring Saturday morning.  There is mulch to be spread and grass to mow.  The Farmer saunters out to the tractor shed after downing a fresh pot of coffee and a pan of scrapple, eager to get to the days work.  He reaches the Red Tractor, and a look of despair and consternation crosses his face.  He realizes he can’t put mulch in the mulch spreader.  There is no high lift.

Mulching in the vineyard is a two tractor endeavor.  One tractor has the mulch spreader in tow while the other tractor waits near the mountainous mulch pile with the high lift attached.  This tractor fills its bucket with mulch and dumps it into the spreader. The Farmer,  determination in his eyes, sits down at the kitchen table at the Long Shot Farm homestead.  Here he consults with the Master of All Things But One.

“Jeff”, he says, “we need a high lift.”

A tall, burley man, with a whiskery face and kind brown eyes grumbles, “Let me see what I can find.”

Days pass.  Fixing an old tractor is never a one purchase affair and the purchases made are never completely accurate.  But what can be found, will be made to work, through the thinking and brawn of our dear Aerospace Engineer and resident Apprentice Master Welder.

A used high lift made for the former model of the Red Tractor was found.  The high lift was in good condition but the brackets were made for a smaller tractor.  The brackets also had to come forward so the high lift could clear the front end of the tractor and the brackets were too high.

The Engineer puzzled over the situation and in a eureka moment, devised a plan to modify the high lift.  He discovered that only a few diagonal slices to the bracket of the high lift would simultaneously make the bracket bigger, bring the front of the high lift more forward and allow the entire lift to be lowered.  He communicated this plan the Welder.

With steady hands like a surgeon, the Welder sliced the metal, laid out the new angles with precision, and gently braided the metal back together.  The final task was to attach the new device to the the Red Tractor.  The fit was beautiful.

As the Red Tractor puttered away on its mission to mulch, something was amiss: “But,” said the Welder, as he looked on the Tractor moving off on its way, “the hydraulics are leaking…”

So goes the eternal battle of Man versus Tractor. Until next time…

Posted by Anja Weyant

Dear Deer

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Dear Deer,

You are so majestic, graceful, and sometimes tasty, but your insatiable appetite for delicate grape vine flesh leaves me heartbroken.  Year after year we tend our field, prune our grapes, shower them with care and love and still they don’t all grow.  The perimeter of our vineyards, exposed to your vicious, nibbling, mouth, is trimmed to sad bushy plants, never reaching their potential.  But no more!  This year we thwart your malevolent habits with tree tubes.

Clad in workwear, mallet in hand, we heroically pounded hundreds of 4 foot stakes into the ground and attached the tubes to the stakes, protecting the young and tender vines. These young knights, protected in armor, will someday reach the top of the trellis and produce a worthy harvest, despite your constant assault.  Beware wandering deer, your feasting days are numbered.

Best wishes, until we meet this fall…

 

Posted by Anja Weyant

Introducing Corot Noir 2019

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It was a dark and cold night, the kind that only late winter rain can bring. I needed a new case, something to get me out of my office and back onto the streets, something to move the blood in my veins. As I pounded the pavement looking for trouble, I found my case, down at the local watering hole, “The Long Shot.” Always had an affinity for the name, reminded me of my line of work. Her name was Corot, Corot Noir, and she came with an intense and attractive berry and cherry aroma. I had to keep my head straight for this one, and not let that fine bodied red get the better of me. She had a dry aspect that told you beneath her charms was a deep tannic structure that could dominate the evening. One sip and I knew that I wouldn’t just be gaining a case, but a partner.

Pairs with rich and savory foods like ribs, burgers, lamb, potatoes, Roquefort, gouda, chocolate, black cherries and someone tall, dark and handsome.

Posted by Anja Weyant

Ode to the Blackberry Patch

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There is a natural order to things. A progression that life, land, nay, even civilation itself must traverse. Things are born, they grow, then they must pass away. Such is the world we have.

And like all things of this world, our beloved patch of blackberry also went through the inevitable development: wrestled back from the wild, converted into productive farm land, thus yielding bountiful berries. But then the disease set in, and drought, and floods. We fought with ingenuity, with science. We fought with sweat and toil. We pruned and picked. But alas, it succombed to the fate of all our land: from beautiful rows of delicious brambles, to a parking lot.

We loved you blackberry patch. We will miss you. You taught us much, and now we park our trucks on you. But beneath the gravel, we also buried a piece of our hearts.

Posted by Duff Neill and Anja Weyant