The First Annual "Rock Pickers Triatholon"

It was a beautiful summer evening in rural Minnesota when my husband (the Agricultural Engineer) asked me to give him a hand and pick a round of rocks in the soybean field. I was working on my stairway project but agreed to wrap it up and head over to meet him at the 'Olson' farm about four miles from our place. He and the dog had taken the 'Gator' to the field and planned to keep the little safari vehicle there for a few days in order to finish the rock harvest.

I arrived and we took off up the soybean rows, finding plenty of rocks that could potentially end up in the combine if they weren't gathered. The round was a long half-mile and after we finished, we decided that one of us ought to walk 'overland' to the next farmsite toward home with the dog. Copper had been swimming in the pond and hunting in the field... he was filthy. Riding in the car wasn't an option for him.

I volunteered to take the walk across the pasture, through woods and down another field to the farmsite...a little over a mile away. On the way, a doe ran across my path...not 20 yards ahead. I should have counted all the little critters I saw, many of which scolded me for being there.

I walked through an open meadow where, two years earlier, we had planted some pine trees right out there in the sod. It was fun to see them peaking above the tall grass, showing off their new soft green needles.

I rounded the edge of a pond and picked a nice little bouquet of wildflowers and watched the geese and their fuzzy little ones swim away from me. One of the parents led the family and the other followed a distance behind, stretching its neck to be sure Copper and I weren't dog-paddling toward them.

Finally, I made it to the farmsite, hopped on the waiting bicycle and headed home with Copper following along in the ditch - tongue hanging out (the dog's not mine..okay, well maybe my tongue was hanging out, too). The wind was strong and fought with me all the way down the highway. I had only gone a mile when Paul appeared in the car. He must have known about my aching legs and my losing battle with the wind. I traded my bicycle for his car and drove home, leaving he and Copper to finish the last leg of the race.

As I arrived at home I congratulated myself for taking first place in the Rock Pickers Triatholon. It was then I realized that I had been joined in the event by an army of woodticks... 19 of them to be exact. What a prize for my first place finish!