“Nope. Do you think Russ will ever forgive me?”
“Oh, I couldn’t say one way or another whether a man’ll act like a person, but you didn’t do anything wrong. It’ll turn out alright. Give it time.”
“Jodie won’t talk to me.”
“That’ll work itself out, too. You just gotta keep on keeping on, like they say.” She rested her hand on her lower back. “Well, I better get back home. I got some pies to make for the church auction, and it is hot as a firecracker out here. Why don’t you come over and help me exercise Tucker and Rosemarie in the morning?” She said it in such a grandmotherly way, I wanted to hug her.
“I’ll be there early.”
Sheila nodded, and I watched her walk home. Frodo was panting from the heat, so I put him back in the house. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and went back to take a look at the loose fence post. The goats had torn the electric wire loose along that side and had shoved on the fencing and bent the post over so far it was virtually useless. Goddess knows how long the line was down. I envisioned goats in every corner of the yard - destroying the garden, peeing on the porch, and climbing up and over the truck, my only form of transportation. I was making an effort not to care, but it wasn’t working.
“Shit.”
The metal post and mallet made a couple of soft thuds on the ground where I threw them near the fence. I turned on my heels to go get the driver tool, a big green metal tube that weighs ten times more than you think it would. I looked at another post on the fence line and saw how it was turned and attached to the wire, so I could match it with the replacement post. I found a spot close to the bent post and sat the new post up and, after a few dozen whacks, hammered it down a few inches, as I’d seen Elliot do. Then I took the driver, somehow got it up on my shoulder, and tried to tilt and slide it over the post. The post fell over, and I jumped backwards, doing my best not to smash anything important with the driver as it also fell. “Motherfucker!”
Once I calmed down and thought about it, I realized I could slide the driver over the post and stand it up. A few light taps, and the post was down far enough to pound into the ground. I did it! I took the wire clasps and attached the fence wire. Ta da! I stood back and assessed my work, as a few goats and kids drifted by to give it the once over. Not bad.
I couldn’t help but think, though, a real farmer would replace a wooden post with a wooden post. I didn’t have any concrete to set it, but I could at least dig the hole.
I went back to the shed and got out the post hole diggers, determined that they were not going to beat me this time. I picked a spot on the other side of the bent post and began my torture session. I threw the diggers straight down at the dirt, and they made two arch-shaped dents about a quarter of an inch deep in the dust. I think Frodo could have done better with his paws.
“Crap!”
I grasped the handles and jammed the blades into the dirt, and the contact made my wrists sing with pain. I threw the diggers down, stomped off to the garden shed, and came back with a small shovel. Elliot said not to make the hole too wide, so I shoved the bladed in straight up and down, and put all my weight on the blade with my foot. The blade made a gratifying sound as it ripped open the earth.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
I went around in a circle, riding the blade of the shovel down a few inches, until I caved in one side and just about double the size of the hole.
“Ugh!”
I grabbed the diggers again, and this time, I seemed to be making progress, even though I was only pulling out about a handful of dirt after every thrust. I was sweating buckets, and I had to stop every few turns to pull my shirt up and wipe sweat off my forehead. I was down about a foot and a half when the blades hit something hard. I rotated the diggers to feel where the hard thing was. Guessing it was a large rock; I got a gardening spade, got down on the ground and started digging. It was a root, about an inch thick. It wouldn’t budge.
I stood up, shoved the shovel blade into it, and it barely made a mark. Now what? No way to saw that thing where it was.
“I will not be defeated by a stupid hole!” I went off to the tool shed, looking for something that would take that thing out. I ruffled through the drawer marked blades and looked through all the different power saws. There was one that had a jagged blade that pointed straight out. I snapped a battery pack on it and went back to the hole. I pulled the trigger on it, and the thing almost jumped out of my hand.
“Shit!”
I lay down on the ground and shoved the saw in there, put the blade up against the root, and pulled the trigger again. The saw kicked up against the sides, and even when I braced it, I couldn’t get it to hit the root enough to do any damage.
Back in the tool shed, I toyed with the idea of selling all the goats and being done with it.
“Hell, I’m going to have to kill half of them, anyway.”
I had a flash of
