This wheelbarrow has been part of our family since before we were a family. Before that, it belonged to Libby's brother-in-law, and before that, it belonged to the National Guard, I think. By the time we acquired it -- thirty years ago -- it was already in sad shape: hard to push, hard to steer, and rusting out. It spent many years at Roundrock, being pressed into wobbly, rickety service occasionally but mostly just looking picturesque leaning against a tall tree near the dam. The man who built our cabin confessed to using it to move some gravel around, which was fine. And last time we were down, Libby used it to carry some rocks. And that is what brought it to its end. The brace holding the axle finally snapped, as you can see here: As the song says, rust never sleeps. You can imagine how hard it would be to push and steer after this. So the old wheelbarrow found its way back to suburbia and was respectfully put on the bags of trash and raked leaves at the curb in front of our house. And now it's gone. We have another, much nicer wheelbarrow, and we may take it to Roundrock on those rare times when we need it (and happen to realize in advance that we'll need it). Missouri calendar:

• First day of winder/solstice: shortest day of the year.

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