Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Rubber Boot Race

On a normal day, when I'm doing the Rubber Boot Race, it usually involves some form of livestock and the urgent need to reach a fence.  In fact, my dad's new cow challenged me to a race this spring.  Most times, I can be counted on to run as fast as I can, through ankle deep manure mud all while trying to keep my boots from suctioning off.  And on a normal day, it's closely followed by a trip to the house to change my underpants...

With the torrential downpours we've been getting the grass and fields are soggy, so most days are rubber boot days.  This morning, while I was out shooing the horses back into their part of the corral so I could turn the sheep out on the field I saw the County spray truck creeping it's way down the road.  While I may not have a mosquito sprayer like Johnny, I do have the hated vegetation spray truck.  Using a giant nozzle it spews it's chemicals into the ditches - all in the name of weed control.  (Johnny's post is great - read it!)  As a child this truck meant my mom banned us from the road, the ditches and any of the fun water running near them.  As an adult I am able to request the County "No Spray" our property line.

There I was watching with squinty eyes as it approached the property line (clearly marked with fencing).  And there I was running through thigh high grass in my dashing black rubbers, hand in the air, bellowing out, "This is a no spray property!  This is a no spray property!"  Bella, taking her duties seriously raced to the fence line barking madly.  I continued to run towards the road, leaping puddles, staggering as my feet disappeared into hidden grassy dips of the land.  Bella scaring the worker into stopping gave me the time I needed.  Peering down at the worker I wheezed out "This is a no spray property!"

Looking blankly at me, he shrugged his shoulder and asked me if I was sure.  Seriously.  Taking a deep and patient breathe I pointed out the other end of the property.  Sweat trickling down my face I asked him to make a note of it, and thanked him sweetly (and with a smile!) for not spraying the edge of my property.  As he clambered up into his truck, I tried not to suck air too bad as I walked back to the horses.  My feet were radiating heat in those lovely black rubbers.

Ah, the joys of the rubber boot race...

1 comment:

Karen said...

Thankfully they just mow the ditches here, although it seems like they are doing it less often.
I can relate to the rubber boot thing, we live in them. Even in summer,in SW B.C., the grass is so wet with dew, and if it is at all long, well your legs and feet end up soaked.