Remember the whack-a-mole game I was tellin' you about just the other day? Melvin Mole popped up today to interrupt harvest in a most exciting way.
Can you say, "Combine Fire"?
Oh, yeah. Fun was had by all. Luckily, son noticed the smoke as he was going through the field and got right on the fire extinguisher.
Hubs and a hired helper weren't in the same field, but when son screamed "Fire! Fire! Fire! Fucking FIRE!" into the two-way radio, you can bet they both wasted no time getting there.
About an hour later after putting some chemical extinguishers, a water extinguisher, a broom, a leaf blower and several pair of feet to work, the fires were out.
Nerves a bit frayed, covered with thick dust, we're grateful that no one was hurt, we didn't catch any fields on fire, and the combine had minimal damage.
I really could stand to lead a little less exciting of a life.