-By Orv Alveshere-
HARNESSED UP FOR OLD TIMES SAKE
A Country Gentleman looked longingly at his newly purchased horse-drawn plow.
He had practiced driving his team. He planned to hitch them on that plow, somehow.
His research was thorough, with definitive instructions from his Dad,
Who was an expert with experience of decades of plowing, since Dad was a lad.
He’d stood in the freshly turned furrows, watching a synchronized team, ahead.
Back then, he wished it was him that was sitting on Dad’s plow seat instead.
Dreams would soon be fulfilled. While daydreaming and sitting on his rump.
Crude drawings of mechanics of three-horse eveners fell to the floor with a thwump.
SOME TEAM ASSEMBLY REQUIRED/A RETRO EXPERIMENT,
WHERE THERE’S A WILLING HITCH, THERE’S A WAY
His Dad plowed with a multi-team plow on the day that World War I ended.
His Dad was 10-years-old that day. Now he had the plow Dad recommended.
The three-team hitch had clip-clopped down the lane many, many times together.
The staccato cadence of 12 hooves was mixed with squeaks of harness leather.
According to advice, he’d rely on the lead horse on the right.
He would use genuine horsepower. Success depended on how they would unite.
He rewarded his horses with a stream of drinking water from the pump.
While unharnessing them, he tossed the horse collar, which landed with a thwup.
SWEETENING THE JOB WITH SWEET CORN FRUCTOSE, PAID BY THE EAR
TEAM PERFECTION, PERFECTLY IN SYNC/THE STING
An unplowed plot of ground awaited, from a generous neighbor’s invite
To plow a sweet corn patch. The payment of sweet corn would be a sweet delight.
He rehearsed the lever lift, that used plow wheel cam, hand and foot power.
He slid on and off the seat, practicing the correct movement, for an hour.
The metal plow seat was pock-marked, that is, having holes in the metal seat
For ventilation and weight-saving. Would he need a burlap sack, to defeat
The onslaught of hungry mosquitos? They’d relish a blood draw from his rump.
For rural guys to outsmart those blood suckers, the gunney sack was their trump.
PLOWBOARDING, MOLDBOARDING OR SPRINGBOARDING?
The metal seat mount was made of springly steel. It was a comfort design
For traversing rocky field conditions. On smooth ground it worked fine.
Homesteaders walked alongside the moving plow, to warm up on days that were cold
Or needed to stretch. He planned to follow plowing tips from pioneers of old.
The subject, that plowboy, who may request a senior citizen discount,
Was commemorative plowing in this century, his trial run will recount.
He had put so many hours into that plan. Unmoved, was he a mug-wump?
Like the bird on the fence? He wished to drop that single plowlay with a thwump.
DOUBLE MOVEMENT OF THE TWO POCK-MARKED SEATS
Down the noisy gravel roads, that foursome (driver and 3 horses) went.
It was re-enactment. New definitions of re-enactment, he truly lent.
That proud driver was obviously in a chipper mood, whistling a tune.
The brill’ant April sun shone down with warmth. It was a few hours before noon.
Some people have bounce in their walk. He had bounce from that springy seat ride.
The plowing scenario was set. He had a photographer at his side.
He had carried his plowlay cleaning stick, hoping the moist soil wouldn’t clump.
A picture of perfection. If anything lacked, it was us, he did stump.
PLOWING WITH THREE HORSES AND A ONE-BOTTOM PLOW
He listened to Old-Timers, “Not to put the plow deep in the ground.”
He eyed a post, to plow a straight furrow. They plowed so smooth, onlookers spellbound.
His ‘restored’ Emerson sulky one-bottom plow worked well. He’s sitting on his throne.
The field was turning black, as earth was turned, including some small stones.
THE PLOW HIT A ROCK!! He was unceremoniously DUMPED … but was unhurt.
His plowing aspirations did not include aspirations of dirt.
Life can get rocky. The springboard action came as the rock made the plow jump.
He was face-down in the soft plowed dirt. He landed with a thwump!
THINGS THAT GO THWUMP IN PLOWED FIELDS/HOLEY PLOW-SEAT, BATMAN
Cats may have landed on all fours. Life get buptious, don’t it?
Overconfident in his riding and driving ability, caution he did omit.
He’d broke a number of horses to ride and drive. He was no green-horn chump.
He was AIR-BORNE for a split second! His nose-dive came from a springboard dump.
The horses stood awaiting the dirt-bathed dive. He let them stand and rest.
He tried to clear his mind and devise a new game plan (as we might suggest).
The day of the UN .. UNexpectedly …UNceremoniously dumped, landing like a lump.
A turn of events while turning the soil … he landed with a twump!
OFF-SET SINGLE-TREE AND EVENERS/HORSES WILLINGLY PULLED and PULLED TOGETHER
His team stopped…no runaway occurred. And when the subject reappears,
He cups hands o’er his ears. He’d speak but would speak of sweet corn ears.
You can tell a plowboy, but you can’t tell him much. Hump Day had a hump.
He’ll change the subject. He’ll just display the plow that caused him to land with a thwump!
The RETRO experiment gave a springboard to success. It was an impact day.
And unhappy landing. That rock star was a long ways from the Hard Rock Cafe.
You expect me to tell you it came off without a hitch? You be the UMP…
You decide. Too old to break broncs, a breaking plow caused him to land with a thwump.
Orv Alveshere, an award-winning writer of humorous cowboy poetry and stories, “grew up hanging on a horse.” He writes about his lifetime of adventures.