Sing Your Song With Soul

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Now I’ve done it!!  Just a few moments of double duty dovetailing, and while I wasn’t looking, the wind closed the end of the giant plastic bag  (clean chute) that extended up the feeding side of the 70 foot silo—just a moment of closure and hayledge being blown out the high-up door into the bag began to plug at the bottom and fill all the way to the top. There was a “Bang” as the chute ripped free and fell. The cattle stampeded in panic, and I knew, my heart plunging along with the clean chute—that I was “in for it.” The huge blue catch basin above the rotating feeder panels was now filled with 60+ feet of plastic bag, tightly stuffed, like a giant green baloney sausage, any coil of which was too heavy for me to lift.  The cattle were coming back to the feeder now, looking at me accusingly. “Hurry-up.  We want our munchy meal!” There was only one thing to do. I knifed open a coil and dredged out handfuls of icy compacted fiber.
Ordinarily, the grassy jumble tumbled down, its molasses bouquet misted with the warm breath of the cows to envelop the hundred foot feeder in a steamy cloud surrounded by frigid blue air. But “handful by handful” was slow going. The cows bunted and shoved for a place at the feeder, impatient and clearly disappointed.
Ordinarily,the pregnant cows would stand belly to belly, eyes shut in ecstasy,  tongues smacking the sweet moist trefoil in. They chewed with their mouths open and full!  Not today. To get into the coils at the base of the fiasco, I had to lay on my back in the feeder trough, reach up and drag hayledge down to fall on my face and get in my eyes. Irritated by too little too late, the cows began to fight with each other, all the while bellering at me to hurry.  They were cold. So was I.
All because of dovetailing, I scolded myself.   How could I have been so stupid to let this happen. I cursed myself over every slit I had to cut in the plastic, and as I clawed handfuls out through the holes, I stuffed anger at myself down into my gut (to be used later).  Stupid fool-will you ever learn?  It was an all day job on a day—like most—already overfilled with jobs. I had chores inside and outdoors, and a play to direct after the kids got home from school.  But I had to get the bag cleaned out and warmed by the register in the utility room of the house, taped and mended so it could work again tomorrow.  Never ever let this happen again, I admonished myself, and your punishment is—you will climb the silo and reattach the bag! You broke it. You fix it!
 There was a problem in that I was afraid of heights, it would be dark before I could get to the task, and I had never climbed the silo. Fear was my nemesis.  But on that night, fueled by anger, I faced and conquered fear.
Be your own commander
Yes, your feet are clay
So put on golden slippers
Roll the dice and play
No more mamby pamby
No more quaking knees
Excuses don’t become you
“Man-up” if you please
The task needs your commitment
It’s crying out to you
Resolve it using anger
And belief that you can do
Climb the glass-faced mountain
Hang out with the stars
Strong enough to conquer
Fear is just a farce

Conquering fear

Your movie’s cast and written
You have the leading role
Fear hampers your performance
So sing your song with soul
Order the new novel by S.K. Carnes.  The Way Back in all e-book stores.       Amazon:

cover of The Way Back
New novel: The Way Back

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