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So here's a story to wrap your head around.

There's this guy. He shows up at our house every month or two on his way from a Bakken oil field job and we put him to work, give him a bed, feed him a meal, and share a few drinks with him for one or two evenings and then he leaves. We met him less than two years ago when we rented our extra house out to some people from Colorado. This guy went to college with one half of that couple and he now works in the oil field on a several week on/several week off kind of job. Our location is a good stopping point for him when he is headed wherever he is going for his time off. So when our Colorado friends left us, this guy kept stopping, only at our house now.

As one person put it to me: "Let me get this straight. You had people living next door to you that were complete strangers just two years ago. They have this friend who is even more of a complete stranger and you let him stay in your house every few months and enlist him in calving, house remodeling and harvesting projects?" Yup.

Hey, when somebody shows up at the most opportune times for us, eats Cocoa Puffs at the table with my kids, discusses the benefits of investing cattle into an IRA and puts in a good day's work, what kind of crazy people would we be to ask questions? And also, we kind of like the guy. I won't use the word "kindred spirit" as that seems a bit girly, but he and our former neighbor who has since moved back to Colorado just seem to click with the Danish Cowboy.

He showed up today when we are kind of short-handed and just getting ready to bring in the winter wheat harvest. Danish Cowboy taught him to drive the combine and away they went. Combining, hauling, laughing, sweating, truck driving, and enjoying the feeling of accomplishment that only work like this can bring.

I, on the other hand, did not drive the combine. I think I made fun of the weird farming terms the

Cowboy uses one too many times and I have been banned from all equipment that has any sort of value. But I did make potato salad. And packed a cooler. It's not much of a contribution but good things will come to those who show up with the Gatorade and beer this evening.

The harvest goes on. And at 1.2 miles per hour and 36 feet across at a time, it goes on. And on. And on. But that is hardly a complaint. This is what we live here to do and we revel in every minute of it.

If you ask me what my favorite time of year is, the answer would change based on the season that we are in. For today, harvest is it. And it is best enjoyed with good friends who thrive on the hard work just as much as we do.

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