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Going to ground

Been away for a little while, from the blog, at least. It’s a busy season, and I’m off getting work done. Unrelated to work, however, I recently took a quick road trip back to northern Utah to celebrate my mom’s 60th birthday. We had planned a weekend in southern Utah, poking around some canyons somewhere—Escalante, maybe Vermillion Cliffs or Grand Staircase—but various forces conspired against us, so we ended up staying in our little corner of the Wasatch for the weekend.

Before heading for home I helped put some trees in the ground, ahead of the oncoming wintery weather. My mom snapped a few photos of me at the controls of the tractor. Kubota: How I roll.

 

 

My mom was literally from the wrong side of the tracks. Her father, Tom, worked for the railroad in San Jose, Calf., and he was adamant that his children would go to college. After the took these photos she told me what Grandpa Tom used to say to them: “You’ll graduate from college and that’s that,” he told them. “You may end up a ditchdigger, but by god you’ll know what kind of dirt to dig!”