Maybe It *Is* Mr. Low-Man!

Today, I was piddling in the herb garden and ZZZZZZZZoooooooMMMMM. Here comes the crazy drunk joy riding mapping plane again.

And then stuff fell from the sky.

I thought it was tiny pellets of hail.

Just as an aside– it’s interesting, isn’t it, how we try so hard to make sense of the nonsensical. There was no reason to expect hail this afternoon. But hail was the best my poor little country brain could come up with.

It was not hail. Hail pellets of this size would melt in an instant between my fingers.

What the heck?

At about that time, Mr. Big Food arrived. He reported a similar experience in the Southwest Pasture. I collected some pellets and put them in a jar.

What fresh conspiracy is this?

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Mr. Big Food & I & our pot of pellets drove to over to neighbor Ken’s house. Ken says it’s a Weyerhaeuser plane dropping fertilizer on Weyerhaeuser pine plantation pines.

And that somehow explains sky joy-riding over the Farm?

I think not.

So. The sheriff is clueless. There may well be mapping planes, but this is not one. If this continues, I’ll have to call Weyerhaeuser.

Good Lord. Think what trying to deal with Weyerhaeuser will be like on a day when I am tasked with finding a water heater that doesn’t cost $500, have asparagus to tuck in for the winter, artichoke to plant and company coming.

Poor me. Living out here on 60 acres, being buzzed by crazy drunk pilots, eating nothing but fresh salads and pot roast in the slow cooker, surrounded by people who tolerate me and crappy old books.

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