Five Minutes on Sunday

The Wisdom to Know the Difference

Gilbert Lee had half-finished his second cup of coffee when the phone rang at 7:00 a.m. John Thurman's wife was on her way to work in the city. She hoped she wasn't calling too early (though she knew she wasn't), but she'd seen Gil's cows were out. He thanked her and hung up the phone.

The table before him was draped with protective layers of newspaper beneath a setting of notebooks, sketchpads and fieldguides graced with a variety of pens, pencils and watercolors. A tray of assorted bones, feathers, rocks, bugs and eggshells stood in as centerpiece. He'd thought to loaf more than a little today as well as sketch and study. So much for that plan. He slurped his coffee loudly and let out a sigh. Looking across the kitchen at Ellie, his wife of 52 years, he rolled his eyes. "Well, dough-beater," he began - Ellie'd never made a biscuit in her life, but Gil always called her that when he wanted her to feel more annoyed than he did. "I guess Jackie didn't get around to checking the fences last week?" He knew it wasn't necessary to elaborate further, she'd know exactly what that meant.

Ellie snorted. "Why're you asking me? Jackie does what Jackie wants. An' he don't report to me anymore'n he does you." She fixed herself another cup of coffee, jangling her spoon against the antique china cup with near enough force to crack it. Gil grinned. She was definitely annoyed - that china had belonged to her great-grandmother.

"I reckon you oughta call him an' tell him to get to it, hadn't you," Ellie ordered rather than asked.

Now it was Gil's turn to snort. "Gone to the tractor show over to Falmouth with Cassie. Won't be back 'til Sunday."

Ellie pursed her lips. A god-fearing woman didn't curse, but her grandson often tempted her to it. "Then you best be gettin' some of them Romeos up at the store to help you. I'm takin' Tessie shopping over to Huntington."

"Maybe," was all he replied. Gil considered his usual breakfast company at the Pea Ridge Country Store. They were a creaky lot, one of whom had hung a sloppy-lettered sign in the three-tabled corner that served as restaurant: Retired Old Men Eating Out. Gil thought it was silly - farmers never really retired (though they might slow down a little). And he wasn't old. His neighbors on the other hand... he just wasn't sure he wanted the responsibility of one of them running into trouble.

"You can't do it alone Gil. There's too many of 'em," Ellie interrupted his thoughts. "And if that nasty bull of yours is in with 'em..." she dropped the sentence unfinished. No point courtin' bad luck by sayin' it out. After waiting a few moments for agreement that didn't come, she vented her frustration on the poor china cup, breaking it this time. Uncharacteristically she threw a towel over the whole mess and left it lay with a huff. "I don't have time for this."

Turning back to her husband with a frown she scolded "I'm not telling you again to get yer feet off that chair you lazy bum." Leaving the room she added, "And get that mess off my table by the time I'm home."

Gil leaned back, feet unmoved. He scowled at his near-empty coffee cup, too comfortable for the moment to get up for a refill. If he hadn't made Ellie mad she'd have fixed it for him. His scowl reverted to grin. Even at seventy-five, mad still made her beautiful.

***

Only 10 a.m. and Gil was grinning again. Good thing he'd remembered to pack a little luck when he'd hooked up the trailer, loaded the four-wheeler and stowed his chainsaw and other tools behind the truck seat. Unbelievable really, how easily this job had gone. His intuition on finding the fence break had been perfect. His suspicion of what had caused the breach had proven true and he'd cleared the downed tree limb with no trouble. Then he'd repaired the fence, ridden down to open the gate, and flawlessly herded the cows in without a hitch.