The Rural Voice, 1993-10, Page 10YAMAHA
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YAMAHAr
ARGYLE MARINE
& SMALL ENGINES LTD.
88 Britannia Rd. East, Goderich
519-524-5361
MARQUARDT
FARM DRAINAGE LTD.
(ESTABLISHED 1968)
SPECIALIZING IN:
• Farm Drainage
• Municipal Drainage
• Excavator Work
• Dozer Work
• Erosion Control
• Milk House Waste Handling
(Qualified Contractor For Land Stewardship II)
1%E OFFER:
• Personal evaluation of your project
• Detailed plans and design work
• State -of -the -an equipment
• FREE ESTIMATES
• Oualdied and experienced personnel
• Guaranteed workmanship & customer service
For that personal touch, pride in workmanship,
experience and FREE ESTIMATES call
MARQUARDT
FARM DRAINAGE LTD.
(ESTABLISHED 1968)
R . 13, STEVE CRONSBERRY
Palmerston, Ontario (owner)
.411
"We install;
®)''drainage tubing'
OFFICE R HOME
343-3233 "
338-23731
6 THE RURAL VOICE
Gisele Ireland
Time to be ruthless
There arc times a woman has to be
ruthless to run a home, and that time
around here is fast approaching. I
can make both Super Wrench and our
son turn pale and
quake in their
steel toed work -
boots by posting
"Final Saturday"
notices on the re-
frigerator. It
helps if it's
written in red
marker.
Mind you, the
same list was
posted in the
early spring, but
the results are
never
satisfactory.
When you're married to a farmer,
even if we kid ourselves it isn't full
time any more, they always have
"more important" things to do.
Seeding is frantic, spraying is a crisis
and harvesting is tantamount. Other
things are shelved. Then it gets too
hot, and then there's a ball
tournament and then there's a fair to
prepare for. You get the picture, I'm
sure.
That leaves fall, which is now.
Men don't understand why all those
hunks of fabric hanging over the
windows have to be washed and
rehung. They've lost any
resemblance to being decorative
curtains from months of open
windows and 400 layers of dust
accumulated from the driveway. As
an added bonus, the windows need to
be washed, especially those second
storey ones that were too much
trouble to take apart in the spring. I
have a Guiness Book of Records
cluster fly collection between the
screens and the panes. Doesn't seem
to bother the men any.
Mentioning the cellar gives them
the shivers. Soon, I try to explain to
them, we're going to need a bit more
heat than the sunshine provides and
there's nary a stick of wood in sight.
Even if there was, there's no room in
the cellar for wood. It should have
been cleaned in the spring, but the
excuses won out. It's a job that
would take less minutes than an
average ball game, but the motivation
is par with a trip to the dentist.
Super Wrench is never particularly
enthusiastic about getting the garden
ready in the spring or providing soil
and muscle power to get the flower
beds in shape, but his desire to get the
garden cleaned and the debris off the
beds in the fall can be measured in
micrograms. His theory has always
been that it will all rot down by
spring and God will take care of it.
Unfortunately he's indoctrinated his
son with the same cockamamie
theories and I have to bludgeon them
both to get any degree of co-
operation.
It was certainly an eye opener to
watch our son prepare for college,
after having helped two previous
daughters do the same thing. He did
it in less than an hour, which included
the time spent phoning a buddy and
setting up a place to stretch between
the sheets. This exciting new venture
for him meant throwing some socks,
and with luck some of them matched,
a few T-shirts and some jeans into a
suitcase. As an afterthought he threw
in some underwear and deodorant. I
threw pleading looks at Super
Wrench to help me. He just shrugged
his shoulders philosophically and
informed me the guy was an adult
and I should leave him be. Easy for
him to say, but as a mother I found it
horrifying to know he was going to
appear on campus with a T-shirt
emblazoned with Beach Bum. I
didn't resort to a tantrum, but it was
close. I lost that round.
Both men loftily informed me that
any spare time they had going
begging would be spent erecting a
fence between our property and the
neighbour's. Any jobs I had for them
would be fitted into their tight
schedules as they saw fit. That's
what they think. As I said before,
ruthlessness is required. I backed the
pickup to the cellar and proceeded to
carry out the junk. The first thing I
came across was a hockey bag hung
on a nail to the rafters that impeded
my comings and goings. I threw it on
the truck. Seconds later our son did
an admirable spring across the yard to