Not-quite-summertime, and the livin' is easy. After the creeks recede, that is.
According to the #1 son, in a phone call at 12:05 a.m., Farmer H texted him last night at 10:30 p.m. that the low water bridge on our main route was cleared for traffic again. It has been off limits since Friday morning. Don't think that it's clear when the water goes down. It needs some bulldozin' to get the former topsoil off of it.
It looks like our little gravel road contingent was not the only segment of Hillmomba's population to be inconvenienced by this latest bridge-blocker. When we started for town yesterday, I saw some orange day-glo letters on the blacktop hill leading to our regular bridge route to civilization. When The Pony got out for the mail, I told him to read it. I assumed the county road commission had marked it for some type of urgent work, what with the rain-fueled downhill gusher eating up the pavement under our mailboxes of late due to the missing culvert pipe from previous "improvements." Tsk tsk. You know what happens when we assume.
"I'm not sure. It's upside down. You'd have to be coming down the hill to read it. It looks like someone's name, and the number 50," reported The Pony.
Today we were able to take the regular route. On no less than three sections of the road, that orange lettering broadcast the fact that "Becky is 50." One spot was adorned with a giant orange heart. I can imagine the consternation of Becky's loved ones, out late Thursday evening, painting the road orange, only to have thunderstorms roll in and put the kibosh on their little blacktop lovefest. So they had to surreptitiously come the other direction, the high-water detour over our new long-way-to-town bridge, and quickly dash out their birthday wishes.
I'm thinking that Becky will be hoping for a new round of showers to wash away her vital statistic. And wondering what she's going to do with a bunch of black balloons. Road writing and balloons are never far apart on a major milestone.