There was a shed, that although it offered no heat, it still was a break from cold wind on winter days when we had to do something inside. I remember building gates inside this shed with my dad on Saturdays, when the day began with my preparing to go to basketball practice. Dad left that happen. He saw it as something important to me, as I learned how to get along with classmates, and even more importantly, as I learned to develop some skills that also applied to life. To this day, I'm not sure what "life skills" I developed in sports. I learned the satisfaction of winning, but unfortunately, I also had the notion that you won at all costs.
Saturday found me climbing into dad's white '63 Chevrolet pick-up truck. Sometimes he loaded the hay from the haylands by himself. That was when it involved alfalfa. Meadow hay was something else entirely. I wasn't allergic to it, and dad liked my company.
Saturday mornings were beautiful in those meadow areas of Malad Valley. Wells flowed year round. They were the type of artesian flows that didn't need a pump.
We loaded the truck high, and sometimes roped it down, so that hay didn't tip to one side.
The first task on the ranch was feeding cows. Then we did odd jobs for the rest of the day, which included building gates. I remember one year doing that all winter long.
In the background near the grinder, a press is still there. Dad had a large electric drill we used for metal, but for these gates, dad had one that you used manually.
Dad used long bolts to secure everything in place. We worked together, and the best part is that it was here that I learned some basics.
When I did my Eagle Scout Project, I built livestock panels. It took me two weeks in the late spring and early summer of my sophomore year of high school, but I finished it. Ann's dad Stan oversaw the job I did and really liked the quality of my work.
It took me a few extra days to do some extra things. Stan asked me to finish using the wood by making sure that I used all the scraps. Ann and I share something in common. We come from families that didn't waste anything.
In the top "window" picture, if you look closely, there is a two-inch chunk of glass broken out of a pane. I did that. I think I threw a bolt at a rat, but I can't remember exactly.
During summers, the shed was quite warm, but we worked on farm equipment often there, although during late July or early August, we pulled the combine under the trees below the house.
By then, it was too hot to work in a metal shed like that.
We all worked hard. Mom took care of us too, and besides cooking meals and doing other odd jobs for us, she also brought us quart Mason jars full of the soft drink of our choice.
Dad preferred Pepsi. I, on the other hand, didn't get a caffeinated drink like that. It annoyed her that I drank a small paper cup of Coke at the movies or purchased a can at school during government class, when our teacher had a film for us to see.
She didn't like to see me drinking it. I'm the same way with my own grandchildren.
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