So, I'm home from a shortened day at the Station, in which I had ZERO visitors, unless you count David, Marly, Phil, and one of the folks from the Mental Health Center. While I was there, I took a few notes about this and that:
Observation: The aroma of fresh baked bread was rising from the newly planted wheat fields as I drove down Route 66 at sunrise this morning. Is this normal? This is one of those things a transplanted city girl knows very little about.
Observation: When men visit Afton Station, if they have any questions or comments about the old cars, they will inevitably direct them to any man who happens to be in the room, before they will direct it to me. When they hear that I own the place, their eyes glaze over. Even if one of my volunteers tells them to ask me their questions because I know more than they do, the male visitors just can't seem to allow themselves to do it. They can't look me in the eyes. Apparently, cars = men only. I find it quite humorous.
Observation: The Afton city boys are digging to install a French drain from the place from which our leak is originating, or so they think. There's been quite a bit of head scratching. I'm a little skeptical about their knowledge of French drains. They've decided that "Lake Afton" is being created by groundwater, not a broken pipe. This could be amusing.
And now, I think I need to stop writing and close up the computer. The wind is getting stronger and the predictions on TV are becoming a bit more dire.