A truck full of black gold ~ June 7, 2006

David Heiller

Ron called me Thursday to see if I could stop on Friday morning first thing to get a load of manure.

I had planned to pick it up Friday after work, but he had some farm chores then.

“Sure,” I said.

“You’ll have a truck full of manure all day,” Ron said.

Beauty gets help from a little manure.
My bleeding heart in Denham.

“That’s all right. It’s a status symbol in Caledonia,” I replied.

So before work on Friday, I arrived at my usual spot down the road from Ron’s farm, and he did his usual quick work with the loader. I watched as he dropped two buckets into the old truck.

It was good looking manure, full of red worms, not too ripe. Almost garden ready, but it was definitely manure.

My truck sagged and settled under the weight, but I had a sense that it didn’t mind a bit. What higher honor for a truck?

“Thank you,” I told Ron. That’s all the payment he ever wants. Then it was off to work.

The manure got a few looks over the course of the day. Gary and Bob at B&M service sized it up and decided maybe they shouldn’t put the truck on the hoist to get at the leaky rear brake line. “Bring it back when the manure’s gone,” Gary said. I drove off, leaving a little reminder of my visit.

At noon I drove it to Good Times for the weekly Rotary meeting. It may have been the first time in the history of Caledonia Rotary that a member drove a truck full of manure to a meeting. I was proud of that. Ann Thompson sniffed it out and asked if I could drop some off at her house. “Sorry,” I said with a smile that matched her own.

The courthouse, police station, and high school all were blessed with my truck full of black gold that afternoon. The state patrol caught a glimpse of it too as I checked out an accident on Schauble Hill after work.

It was kind of a fun distraction, and it got a few laughs at work too. “Is that what I smell?” Dawn asked when she came in from a sales call. She’s always teasing. But she didn’t seem to mind either.

That’s the thing in Caledonia and probably anywhere in rural America. A load of manure is not a bad thing. In fact, just the opposite is true.

Granted, there are certain stages of manure that would not be welcome on a reporter’s Friday beat. It’s like a farmer that forgets to change his chore boots before going to church! That’s not the kind of pew you want.

But the faint whiff of the barn on a person of a truck is just fine with me. I’m thankful we live in a healthy farming community, and I’ll take little reminders like that with no problem:

I unloaded the manure Saturday morning. It was good to shovel it onto the ground. I was thankful Ron had loaded it, but at some point you’ve got to add some sweat of your own to gel manure to work just right. A stiff back makes a person a little more grateful too.

Malika with Mackenzie and Riley by our pergola.
Good things happen when you add a little manure.

My new manure pile will sit for a couple weeks, then I’ll probably mix it with some black dirt, and throw in some sand from the dredge pile in Brownsville. The result will be a rich soil to add to the garden. Cindy wants some for her flowers, and the vegetable garden has a bed with soil that is thin, as Mike Carpenter world say. The cucumbers and zucchini and melons there could use a little of Ron’s black gold.

Black Gold. Caledonia M. That’s my kind of currency. A little investment that will yield some big dividends in a couple months.

The cukes and zukes and zinnias and azaleas will emerge all the stronger thanks to Ron’s generosity and that load of manure. That’s something to be thankful for.