We Break More Things

It isn’t really accurate to say we broke more things, at least not this time. It was more that we discovered more things that were broken and a minor repair turned into two day job. You know, the usual Paradigm Farms drill.

It all started so innocently. We noticed one of our gate posts seemed a bit wobbly. Jason bought a bag of concrete mix so he could shore up the gate post. He started digging around the post so he could add the concrete and realized the post had rotted. He then had to dismantle two sections of the fence so he could get the post out.

Then the post didn’t want to come out. Oh sure, the part above the concrete where it had rotted came out easy peasy. The rest of the post, the part in the ground surrounded by a large chunk of concrete, well it was apparently very content to remain where it was. After much banging with a pry bar, swinging of a pick ax, digging with a shovel, maneuvering the loader on the tractor with a chain, and of course creative uses of vocabulary, Jason finally got the rest of the post out of the ground. I happened to be holding horses for the farrier as this operation was underway. At one point the farrier and I heard yet anther round of creative uses of vocabulary and saw Jason beating the fence with the pry bar. We don’t think he was actually trying to accomplish anything other than vent his frustration at that particular moment in time. But we didn’t wander out to ask or offer to help so maybe we were wrong . . .

Then we had to go buy another fence post, and more concrete, and yadda, yadda, yadda. We get the fence post set. Jason gets the nail gun to start nailing up fence boards. Nail gun battery number one is dead. No problem we have a spare. Nail gun battery number two is dead. No problem, we have a spare for the spare. Nail gun battery number three is dead. Jason throws said nail gun and three batteries on the ground and explodes in more creative uses of vocabulary. I decide to just walk away and leave him to it at this point.

A couple hours later I could no longer avoid that area of the farm. Jason had managed to produce a functioning gate and rebuilt fence. He was in a marginally better mood, meaning he wasn’t beating on inanimate objects with a pry bar, throwing nail guns or employing creative uses of vocabulary. He wasn’t smiling either but who could blame him. 24 hours later his ten minute task was completed.

Taken from a distance; I decided for my own safety it was best to stay away while the pry bars, shovels and pick axes were flying