I have heard it said on many an occasion that nothing beats country community. Apparently country folk actually like spending time getting to know one another. At first glance, it strikes me as counter-intuitive. Why would city-dwellers, who live in dense clusters, brushing shoulders every day on the bus or at the corner store, have less to say to one another than those who find themselves entire corn fields apart? It is too early for me to speculate. However, evidence is mounting. You know how your city neighbour will spot you an egg, or a cup of milk, to support you in times of culinary need? Guess what country folk are willing to impart to you in your time of need? Their offspring and thier tractors!
This Saturday, Aidan had his first taste of country generosity. By noon, the lot work had reached a point where man power was no longer enough. They needed a big machine. Now, Aidan has serious reservations about initiating any interaction, let alone one that involves asking a stranger for the use of their $100 000 machine. It took a little coaxing, and apparently a little "hand-holding," (figuratively speaking, of course.) But in the end, he found himself standing at Mrs. Walker's door. At his request, she not only gave him the use of her tractor, but threw her 17 year-old son into the deal.
And that is how we met Ian. He worked with the guys for three hours, and the afternoon was highly productive. (Apparently Aidan instructed Ian on the detailed mechanics of the tractor. "Differential lock," or some such thing.) All of our cut oaks are now piled and ready for on-site milling. And we can move on to excavation. But of all the advances made by the boys that day, I think the real gain was made when they walked up to the Walker's front door. Our neighbours. Country or City, we all need someone to borrow an egg from. Or advice. A laugh. A good story. And every now and again, a big red tractor.
