I went off to a meeting this morning, leaving The Squire industrially shoveling gravel out of the stream bed so he could fill in some potholes in the driveway.
He told me that about a half an hour after I left, he heard an odd noise behind him and looked up just in time to jump out of the way, as the cart drifted down the bank, followed by the tractor. We are talking about a spot just slightly shorter than The Squire’s shoulders, as he had run the trailer down a bit, so he could shovel without throwing the gravel over his head. And yes, he had put the tractor in Park.
He called a friend from church who has a big, sturdy pickup truck, and Roger had come over to pull the whole she-bang out of the stream. I don’t think the gravel ever did get put in the drive, as a good bit of it spilled out what with one thing and another, and I can assure you The Squire was not in the mood to go back and get more.
Can’t leave him alone for a minute, that one.
thisendoftheswamp 
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