Finn River FarmAll

Day 26: It was a blustery, chill day, so even if I hadn't been up to my eyeballs in meetings and paperwork, I wouldn't have gone out in the snow to search for a fresh science lesson for my readers. As a matter of fact, I wasn't much inclined to do anything today, and told Kevin that I'd seriously considered "calling in worthless" as a more honest statement than "calling in sick." Consequently, here I am, home at last, without a blog shot for the day and feeling much like just going to bed and pulling the blankies up over my head. Some days are just like that, but the day I took this photo wasn't one of them. We were dancing the Morris at Finn River Cidery, and during the break between sets, I discovered a FarmAll, a real tractor, the kind my daddy used to drive. Right there, Finn River won me over. I've been looking for an excuse to post the image. Vile weather tipped the scales.

Farmall Series M

Day 45: Arguably the best tractor ever made (~cough~ admitting to some bias here!), the 36-horse Farmall M was produced between 1939 and 1954, and at the peak of its popularity in 1952, sold for $2400. I think my dad paid substantially less for the one he drove (I believe he bought it used), and like most tractors of its time, its greatest fault was that it was hard to start. Once up and running, it was a workhorse whether pulling a hay rake or a disk harrow, but starting...well, that was another story. Even today when I am describing how I surmounted a particularly problematic issue, I may refer to having "used all my father's tractor-startin' words," and like any Marine, he had a very broad vocabulary of them. Still, if you want to talk tractors with me, don't bring up those green lawnmowers. Real tractors are red, and don't you forget it!

Best Of Show

Day 278: I didn't want to carry my camera while marching in Eatonville's Fourth of July parade, but as we queued up for the procession, I was kicking myself for that decision. Several FarmAll tractors were lined up and r'arin' to go! I can never resist a FarmAll. Oh, sure, there were a couple of those green things there as well...glorified lawnmowers, those, and much noisier than their red counterparts, but I won't give them a second glance. No, a FarmAll is the only REAL tractor you'll find in a Fourth of July parade, and fortunately, the Eatonville event was so well attended that I was able to catch one of them after our Park group had completed their circuit. FarmAll - Best of Show!

1952 FarmAll Super C

Day 214: I hadn't intended to go out today, but I was bored...bored, and I needed to return a product I'd purchased without realizing that some scum-sucking lowlife had opened the package to remove the battery before I bought it. I sat around the house trying to convince myself I should stay home, but around 11 AM, boredom won out over gas budget and off I went. As long as I was going to be out, I thought I might try to pick up a few of the "items" for a photo scavenger hunt, figuring I may be one of very few people who could complete it with a real pig instead of a plastic one. However, I hadn't factored rain into the equation.

I remembered a couple of spots where I'd seen pigs, and in any event, I like driving back roads where I can straddle the yellow line. Alas, my pig hunt left me porkless, but for having seen one old sow's back turned to the weather as she slept inside her shelter. Pigs are smart animals, unlike photographers who simply will go out in the rain. In one last-ditch attempt to find swine, I set off down a five-mile long dead end road, eyes scanning both sides of the route. Just seconds from the end of the road, I spotted this beauty.

My dad drove a FarmAll, so I'm...well, "biased" would be a fair assessment. And I have a friend who restores these red machines. I had to get a picture, but the tractor was parked adjacent to a rather nice home, rather than out in a convenient field. I did something I wouldn't ordinarily do: I went up and rang the doorbell. After a long few minutes and no response, I was ready to leave, but a woman came 'round from behind the house and said rather sharply, "Can I help you with something?" I replied, "Oh, yes!" and launched into a spiel about my dad. She graciously allowed me access to the tractor, and as we talked, I learned that her husband had only recently finished its restoration.

Still pigless, I decided I was done for the day, but as it happens, "tractor" was also on the scavenger hunt list for the month. Who says you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear...even when you can't find the sow!

Farmall 130

Day 137: Much of the Foothills Trail passes through farmland, and just east of Orting, it passes by what is either a junk yard or a cattle farm or a combination of the two. A wide variety of old vehicles and equipment is parked beside the barn and fence, everything from a "honey wagon" to decrepit semis, hay rakes, cultivators and a few hulk cars. There's a Farmall tractor near the barn, too far away for a decent picture even if I could isolate it from the junk surrounding it, a big tractor like you'd expect to see working in the field. Today, something "new" (and I use the word in the sense of "newly observed") caught my eye as I was walking: the smallest Farmall I have ever seen, just my size. Rusty, missing more pieces than it possessed, it still struck a chord with me. My daddy drove a Farmall. My memories of it are vague and largely stimulated by photographs taken before I was born, but I do recall riding on his lap one sunny afternoon, the dust and scent of dry hay rising around us in a cloud. There's a soft spot in my heart for these old red tractors, regardless of their size or condition (or perhaps because of it). Like a stray kitten, if this worn and weary waif followed me home, I'd find a spot where it could sleep in comfort and give it the love it deserves.

A Farmall Fourth

Day 275: As much as I love watching parades, I enjoy actively participating in them even more. Today, it was my privilege to be one of almost two dozen uniformed representatives of Mount Rainier National Park who swept through Eatonville, handing out candy and high-fives to the kids, waving acknowledgement to the community residents and smiling in general goodwill. It was perhaps our best Park turnout ever, and the small-town populace lined both sides of the streets elbow to elbow, ranked three to five deep in places, over a one-mile route. The high-school band followed directly behind us, marking a lively tempo which inspired some -ahem!- to "boogie" joyously. Our group was fairly near the front of the parade, so when we had completed the circuit, we stood on the sidelines and watched as other groups passed by. As in many other rural areas, tractors come naturally to a parade. I was delighted to see two Farmalls bringing up the rear and managed to catch this shiny red beauty before she headed back to the barn.