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Tadpoles and Backhoes
Apr. 6th, 2024 05:55 pmIt rained substantially in the past week. So much so that we cannot leave our lake neighborhood by car and no one can enter either.
Since this is a flood control lake, the Army Corps of Engineers will only begin to lower the water level when the downstream waterways are at safe levels. We've got plenty of food and supplies even though it will probably be a week or two more before the road is passable. This isolation is actually somewhat pleasant even though docks are floating away.
Since the township road department is unable to get back here, it's given me time to work on my meager backhoe skills while cleaning culverts and ditches.
There are two hydraulic levers which control four separate type of motions, each of which has two different directions. Boom, Stick, Curl, and Swing. I've watched real pros and know that they really don't even have to consciously consider each lever but operate them quite like a skilled piano player might. That is, "without thinking about each individual and physical action". There have been rare moments, when I let go of the minutia, that I surprise myself but at this stage they are relatively short-lived.
* * *
There is a puddle near where the township road dead-ends at the lake, where thousands of tadpoles collect each spring. They're so great to watch wiggle along in the water exploring. I like to consider this small puddle is their entire universe -- where anything beyond a piece of a curled-up leaf, rock or weed stem to them, is unknown and unfathomable. But then, possibly just like them, I'm much the same as there is a measure of comfort and safety in such an assent. Notwithstanding, the small ripples in the puddle are sometimes like small waves of loneliness.
Since this is a flood control lake, the Army Corps of Engineers will only begin to lower the water level when the downstream waterways are at safe levels. We've got plenty of food and supplies even though it will probably be a week or two more before the road is passable. This isolation is actually somewhat pleasant even though docks are floating away.
Since the township road department is unable to get back here, it's given me time to work on my meager backhoe skills while cleaning culverts and ditches.
There are two hydraulic levers which control four separate type of motions, each of which has two different directions. Boom, Stick, Curl, and Swing. I've watched real pros and know that they really don't even have to consciously consider each lever but operate them quite like a skilled piano player might. That is, "without thinking about each individual and physical action". There have been rare moments, when I let go of the minutia, that I surprise myself but at this stage they are relatively short-lived.
* * *
There is a puddle near where the township road dead-ends at the lake, where thousands of tadpoles collect each spring. They're so great to watch wiggle along in the water exploring. I like to consider this small puddle is their entire universe -- where anything beyond a piece of a curled-up leaf, rock or weed stem to them, is unknown and unfathomable. But then, possibly just like them, I'm much the same as there is a measure of comfort and safety in such an assent. Notwithstanding, the small ripples in the puddle are sometimes like small waves of loneliness.
