wheeline

Piling children into the car morning and evening to make the trek to my in-laws to move sprinkler pipe frequently seems bothersome. Oftentimes I’m convinced there’s not enough time to get this done, too.  I hurriedly throw on long sleeves, spray exposed skin with bug spray, and dawn rubber, knee-high irrigation boots. My children and I step into a waist-high field of oats. We walk with mouths closed as mosquitoes swarm our heads. Sometimes we run to break free of the mosquito hordes. And then we hear it. It’s been there all along–we were just in too much of a hurry to pay it any mind. But it’s there: chtt, chtt, chtt.

The sprinklers’  chtt, chtt, chtt distills a quiet peace. Out in the field moving sprinkler pipe twice a day lends itself to quiet reflection.  As a I fall into a steady rhythm of squat, lift, walk and then push in, turn, and pull back, my mind quietly meditates. I can only move one pipe at a time. The beauty of a quiet summer evening calms my rushed life pace.

AnBThis forced slow down brings balance and helps me face the mounting laundry changing water inevitably brings. Here are the farmhands fresh from the field.

laundryAnd here’s what the laundry looks like.

eyes

This is what I look like after changing water. I’ll have you know that make-up survived a three mile  run and subsequent shower earlier in the day, but was no match for moving sprinkler pipe. It’s a good thing getting wet has never bothered me. It’s one of those personality traits I never thought was actually very important. However, since I don’t mind getting wet, I’m free to enjoy a peaceful morning or evening moving sprinkler pipe.

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