Shitty morning

Actually it didn’t snow. We’ve been having Merry Christmas (sweet as an apple...) mornings when we want to see the summer comin’. But yesterday the sun shone. Which is why I went walking. This, you see, is going to be literality. With regard to shit. 
Herman Drescher, our buddy down the road, organic farmer, fumer over GMO atrocities, had given us a number just the day before for free manure. So that was kind of on the list I would have had if I but made ‘em. Go to the poo place and get some. 
But first things first cause it’s Tuesday. Sleep-in day after start early/work late day. It’s the day after production to any who have ever played the weekly newspaper game. So I get to walk my dog.
We went the sun way, of course. Down alongside the open fields that were ours too in the childhood commune hippy days. And the snow’s goin so fast now, gone in the fields. So we ditch the road, the dog and I. And Rufus too. The black lab, the white man and the little black cat with the walkin’ blues.
There are a lot of reasons to look up while we’re walking down the field. The mountains, the treetops and the sky. At some point I look down though and if I may once more be literal: holy shit. Twenty pounders. Daypack loads of pure manure. It’s a minefield. A gold mine.
I’m going to be a little later than my normal Tuesday late. I need my wheelbarrow and I don’t need Drescher’s buddy's number anymore.