Out on the Farmstead

We headed out to rural Alfred, NY to visit the grandparents and I made sure to bring my work boots. Grandpappy had a lot of chores to do on the ole 37 acre farmstead and we set out a little after lunch to see if we couldn't make a dent in a few of 'em. We hung some lights on the front porch, adjusted the hose on the gravity-fed well (gotta keep the water flowing year 'round so's it don't freeze), laid out the extension cords for the flood light, weeded around the blackberry bushes, welded a leg back on an old steel stand, took a walking tour of the scrap-metal graveyard out back (key points of interest include an old Airstream trailer, a James Bond era snow mobile, and one of those strong-man games from the fair where you smash the button with the hammer and try to ring the bell at the top of the pole), looked into irrigating the blue berry bushes, fixed up and ran the log splitter and split a few logs, suited up in chaps, masks and ear-protectors and drove the tractors off into the woods to chainsaw up the tree tops the loggers left behind, dragged said trees back out of the woods using said tractors, sawed said dragged trees into 18" sections to be split, and drove said tractors back to the homestead by the light of the moon, where we feasted on roast beef with all the trimmings.

Wow. Take away all that useful punctuation and that sentence is _almost_ long and rambling enough to appear a David Foster Wallace novel.