LandThink

Country property has always attracted a bit more than its fair share of philosophers, utopians, missionaries, dreamers, writers and nuts.

President-elect Obama showed up unannounced in Blue Grass late Wednesday afternoon as I was pulling in with a load of split firewood. He wore old jeans and work boots. I tossed him a spare pair of leather work gloves, and we started pitching sticks on the pile behind my back gate.

Senators McCain and Obama came to Blue Grass this week for a fourth debate, because they recognized that my vote might decide the 2008 election. We sat at my kitchen table. They came dressed for farm work, both in new bib overalls and ironed flannel shirts.

I looked at a small wooded tract a couple of weeks ago. Before visiting, I asked the seller if he had a deed that he could send me so that I could run the calls through a deed-mapper program to check the acreage. He said that he did, but that he would not provide it. “Go get it at the courthouse,” he said.

I was lying in bed at 3:30 a.m. a couple of weeks ago recounting dumb things I’ve done and making a to-do list when a new thought slipped into line. It was this: I was warm and dry, fed and watered. I did not fear a knock at my door and a one-way trip to jail.