Who said farmers take the winter off? I've got onions to get in the ground and a thousand things to do. But another priority rose up yesterday afternoon: Getting that dead skunk off my road! A car hit it right in front of my place and my wife, the ever lovely Sioux-z, and I were smelling the little critter off and on all night. It wasn't till the next morning that Sioux-z found out what happened, and I didn't find out till almost midday and after thinking about this dead skunk in the middle of my road (literally, right on the broken white line), I decided to move it because surely more cars would run over it and more choking stink would invade my nasal passages. So off I went in search of a plastic bag. As I bent down to pick up the poor creature I was impressed by its fur: soft and dense as a cat's or even a mink. I felt sorry for it. But yet I didn't want to touch it. I tied the bag and then added another, then put it in a plastic bin with a lid near the garbage can. Later, I smelled it again. Now the bin sits near the front of my place, away from the house near the barbed-wire fence, waiting for Sunday to be thrown in the trash. An ignominious end to the little creature.
Well, time to go plant onions.