My love of orange things

By November 12, 2019 November 19th, 2019 Beauisms, kids

I’m writing a book so penning this blog is a strategic distraction. I’ve also become a dad 23.2 days ago (May, Baby May!!), so I’m doing this between farting and burping a newborn, which is more fun that I thought. An infant at arms-reach makes you think in football sized feedback loops, from one sound to the next, estimating minutes on each boob, logging stats, finding the nappy cream.

Why write about orange things? Why not write orange things is what you should be saying. But ok, it’s because my hands are gummy after eating three oranges in quick, sticky succession. I was not allowed to touch the baby again after getting so much juice on my hands, arms and beard, so I’ve retreated to the laptop. The letter aaaa sticks (there it goes) because the pinky, being at the end of the drip-line, covets the most juice. For sheer synergy, my orange beard full of juicy orange pulp is also something I like the sound of. And I once owned an orange turtle neck skivvy that my friends made fun of, so I kept wearing it, enjoying the attention (it was likely the only time my fashion, other than hygiene related faux pas, have been so closely observed).

Helen calculated our chance of having an orange child, based on the off chance she is a carrier of the recessive orange trait, which pegged us with a 2.1% chance. As I look over to the bassinet now I see a tinge of brown. There is a slim change that cranking up Helens carrot and pumpkin intake will tinge the milk, then colour our child, which I’ll try, but rejoicing over an orange baby is looking slim. I’ll have to settle for perfectly healthy, very pretty, with a dimple on her left cheek.

Mostly, seriously, I love orange things because of my tractor: a 1990, 35 horsepower, Kubota, orange, frontend loader. Yes, the pin stripes above the engine guards are no longer paint (instead a strip of black gaffer-tape), and a few of the edge points have been rubbed down to the bare metal, thus not orange at all (although starting to rust, which is a dark and brooding kind of orange), but it’s a fine piece of equipment, coated in the finest Tractor paint you can imagine.

This is what I like about my tractor. It sounds great. It really does. Throaty and strong and consistent and repeatable, the kind of sound you forget about because you think it’ll go on for the rest of your life, which I imagine it would. It’s comfortable. Not because it’s all that nice to sit on, but because the drivers chair represents a throne of potential. My brother in law has an orange tractor also, and I know he feels the same way. Farmers, famously, devote much of their love and attention to tractors, given all this potential. Happy wife, happy life is more like happy tractor, happy farmer. What it lacks in rhyming it makes up for in yield, lack of greasy hands, and time on your back, changing a busted steering arm for the 2nd time that week.

I’m sure May is gonna love tractor work. Kids loovve tractors, preferring a tractor ride over clean water or clothing most days of the week (or hate them with much the same passion). I’m sure May will love tractor work, although even if she doesn’t I’ll put it down to colic.

That’s it. I was recently told that 500 words is about what people can read now in one burst of attention. Seems about right. I’m off to put the kettle on.

(Tractor family is Rowy, Sass, Edi and Vivi livin’ the dream)

Join the discussion 4 Comments

  • Avatar Actually Guido - but migrants try to make things easier..... says:

    I really thought ppl like you had gone out of production……..but not so, happily 🙂
    Thank your parents when you next see them.
    Loved Run the Line, beautiful piece, lucky to stumble upon your skills, ( ABC radio – James Valentine – just a grab. )
    Lucky aren’t we ?!

  • Avatar walkstx says:

    I grew up driving a similar Kubota. For grins try roll starting it backwards in a forward gear. (Like roll backwards down a slight incline, clutch in, in first gear. Pop the clutch to start the engine.) It will now go backwards in all the forward gears, forward in reverse gear. At least ours did in the late 1980s. (Tractor antics of the 17 year old son of a dark-orange father, red grandfather.)

  • Avatar Nathan says:

    I don’t think I’ve ever commented on a blog or YouTube video in my life. But had to here!

    Your docustories are the cure, or maybe the ‘wake up’ call, that many of us need. A Mile an Hour and Run the Line have reminded me and obviously waves of others just how much adventure lies around us. Be curious and never stop exploring the world around you and within you! It doesn’t take much to venture into the unknown. That’s the simple but important message I get. As a father now–and congrats on that!–an entirely new world awaits your exploration. (My 2 and 4 year old continue to make every day an adventure.)

    PS…I hope you share your Walking 100k to Work video. I know I’m not the only one anxious for it!

  • Avatar 90johnny90 says:

    Well said Nathan!
    Beau… how do you fart a new-born? (just kidding, I’m guessing a fart is little more than a rectal burp? hmm, this is going well off topic)
    You are right, orange is wonderful both the fruit and the colour! The only exception is in some clothing. I recall going to international trade shows and you could always tell the Germans and Dutch by their orange sports coats 🙂
    Loving all your videos

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