Can I tell a bit of a love and life story using tractors?
It might be a bit long and picture heavy...
When my son was young and we had the land in Wales, we had our first tractor. A little grey fergie. I'm not terribly into mechanical things, so I would buy in horses to train for farm work. But this is the only photo I can find of the fergie so you all get to meet Cefncoch Helen and a very young Alan stacking wood onto the four wheeler.
When Alan was a bit older, we managed to pick up an old wheel horse, which was just the right size for him to learn to drive. It was a perfect little vehicle for him, with a clutch, three gears, and the ability to see what the wheels were doing so he could become very intuitive about what was happening underneath him.
It was also a good size to learn about basic motor maintenance.
When we moved to Portugal we invested in a bigger tractor. We'd finally officially tied the knot just before emigrating and this was my wedding present to him. I promised Alan that one day I'd decide he was big enough to learn to drive it. Eventually that day came and he jumped on it with a big grin and demonstrated his driving skills. Cheeky lad had been having sneaky lessons with his dad when I wasn't looking. Hard to be cross with them though.
And he was very useful with it when we were renovating the farm.
The little blue tractor soon became an integral part of the family, along with a couple of donkeys.
But all good things come to an end. My husband's health declined but he still loved to drive that little tractor. My ex came to visit with Alan's young half-brother and they spent a wonderful day playing on the farm. His friend back in Wales was having a rough time and needed to raise a bit of cash fast, so my ex had bought is old smart-phone from him, ostensibly as a gift for Alan but mostly to help his friend out, and used it as an excuse to come over for a visit and bring the young one with him. Which gave the two boys a bit of bonding time because they don't see each other very often.
Alan passed on some basic tractor-driving skills to his young half-brother. My husband's health declined rapidly after this, and he passed the tractor on to Alan on his deathbed. Suffice to say that little blue tractor was an incredibly emotionally charged thing for both of us.
But life moves on, as it does. And I ended up contacting an old friend from Wales, the self-same one that my ex had bought the smart phone from to bring over to give to Alan, and he became my partner and moved to Portugal to be with us.
And before long we decided for various reasons it was time to move to pastures new, so we bought a new place. He thought it was best to sell the little blue tractor as the new place was on the side of a mountain and it wasn't the right sort of tractor for steep slopes, but Alan and I were far too emotionally attached to it to let it go. So it had to come with us. As did the bees!
We hired a special truck to move the tractor and all the equipment and headed off for new adventures and new properties to renovate.
The land here is steep and terraced. Alan managed to build a slope between two terraces to allow the tractor to access his house for renovations. He had to reverse up it though until it was complete otherwise it tended to get unbalanced and attempt to lift its front wheels. We still refused point blank to trade it in for a more hill-friendly model though.
And I got very strict about the use of the roll bar!!!
But then fate intervened and forced our hand in the form of the fire. The tractor was one of the first things to go. I hadn't even realised as I was busy putting out little fires at our place as they broke out but the tractor was parked at my son's place next door. Our friend who is living there in his RV tried to move it to a safer spot away from the trees before it caught fire but it was too late and he was forced to retreat. He did manage to get a photo though. It still brings a tear to my eyes. So many memories wrapped up in that little blue machine.
My son had been working when the fire broke out. He saw the smoke and tried to come home but was physically prevented by the firemen. So he parked the car out of the way and walked home the back way, over the railway line. He reported that the tractor had gone and it kind of broke us. We hugged and cried onto each other's shoulders, which I think is the only time we've ever done that. We'd tried so hard to keep that last link alive but fate had decreed it was time to move on completely.
And so we scoured the sales listings and found this girl!
Nice and nose-heavy for climbing steep hills without tipping over.
And I'm biting my tongue ferociously and not mentioning roll-bars....
And I think this is the most poignant photo I've ever taken, of Goldi arriving, driven by my new partner.
It just says
life goes on to me. There's pain, balanced equally by hope. It's deeper than that, but that's the best I can do by way of putting it into words.
She's certainly an interesting little beast - and she bends in the middle!
I hadn't even realised you could get articulated tractors...
Gradually, new life began to grow around the burned out shell of the little blue tractor, and Alan and I accepted that it really was time to let it go.
It wasn't easy to load, but we managed it. Eventually...
Meanwhile, little Goldi gets up to all sorts of mischief with us. Here she is after a rescue mission to salvage an old level-crossing sign, organised by the plushy dragons and Great Uncle Bulgaria.
I need a better photo, but she gets up the slope to the top terrace much more safely than the little blue one did. Even without enlisting a volunteer to sit on the bonnet!
And who knows what adventures are to follow...
