The mud has been heavy, both in reality and in my reaction to that reality. The wind has blown with a savage fierceness. This week the wind lifted the roof, not just the tin, but the roof off of my long shelter and set it down in a nearby hedge row. Several trees went own. The fences were compromised but not destroyed by the storm. A hog house had to be built immediately or Amos would be without shelter. And everyone of these tasks were made more difficult by the fact that every step had to be accomplished by slogging through deep, sucking mud.
Things were bad enough before I saw my topless shelter. Each day recently had given way to what Blaze Foley called "dismal thinking on a dismal day." Everything had become very heavy, both in reality and in my perception to that reality.
And then the troops arrived. On Friday a little girl and three young women built Amos a hog house. Darrin Lindsey sawed up trees that were blown on the fence. Jacob and Jordan shored up a wooden pen. On Saturday riders, families of riders, friends of riders and even people that I had never met showed up. So many people showed up that there was difficulty in parking.
My hope was to have things repaired in three weeks. The work on Friday and Saturday took care of the fences and restored half of the missing roof.
The fact that the work was done was very important in reality. The fact that so many people showed up to do that work was very important to my perception of that reality.
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