It’s October 12, Native American Day in South Dakota, and snow is already falling. Am I ready for this? I’ve removed the tomato cages and uprooted the garden plants so decomposition can begin. I’ve drained the garden hoses and put them away. I’ve cleaned the chimney and cut a little firewood, though I’ll surely need more.

Enchanting as it is, snow induces uneasiness about what lies ahead—and about how much we all have yet to do. But am I ready for winter? The real answer is yes. I don’t exactly look forward to cold and snow and the season of death, but I intend to enjoy it with bundled-up hikes and cross-country skiing across the prairies and through the woods. And those fall details left undone—I’ll get to them next week. I will face the coming season with confidence, because I’ve finally followed my father’s advice.

Years ago he told me I should convert the electrical system of my 50-year-old Ford tractor from six volts to twelve. I was always too busy to get it done, but the real reason is that compared to my father and brothers, I’m mechanically challenged. I wasn’t sure I was up to the task. So for decades I’ve limped along, hoping the old beast would start when I woke up to a blizzard and the crankcase and its contacts were below zero and the 500-foot driveway had to be cleared. Usually it did start, groaning and straining and coughing, but finally catching fire. But sometimes it didn’t, and that meant driving the pickup down the hill to the barn, jump-starting the tractor, and hoping I could get the pickup back up the hill. It was time for more certainty in life.

So I went to the local farm store for a 12-volt battery, found a Delco-Remy alternator from a 1982 Chevy pickup, picked up strap iron from the local welding shop and set about reconstructing the mounting brackets and eventually getting the new charging apparatus in place. Then came the hard part—wiring the new system so it would function. I called both of my brothers, and even a technician at Delco-Remy, and eventually I got the wiring figured out. Imagine my delight and surprise when it worked!

Now the old Ford fires up so fast that the mice that build nests above the radiator have little warning to leap for life. The ignition is hotter too, so the engine runs better than it has for years. So let it snow! I’m ready. Maybe not mentally, and certainly I share the trepidation of my neighbors, but I am more confident than ever that I’m prepared for the most dreaded task of winter, moving snow. Now I’d better tune up the chainsaw, because we’ll need lots more wood. As always, the black stripe on the wooly caterpillars is fuzzy and wide.

–Jerry

Read more from Jerry in his book, Waiting for Coyote’s Call