It was 6:05 a.m., 45 degrees, and the snow had turned the whole place into an absolute mud hole—so me and Jacob loaded up and hit the road. We grabbed a Bojangles biscuit and jumped on I‑40 (which I hate), headed down toward Wilson, North Carolina to pick up two tractor attachments I found at the Southern Farm Show. I was honestly surprised they honored the show price after the fact, but they did, and we ended up bringing home a new grapple for the big Kubota and a potato digger I’ve wanted since I was young. The grapple is something I needed—especially with all that brush work we’ve got ahead of us—so I paid attention to value: grease fittings on every moving joint, bushings, and heavy steel so I’m not tearing it up. But that potato digger? I wanted that thing. If it works like it’s supposed to, it ought to shake the dirt out and leave the potatoes on top so we’re not making three or four passes and still missing half of them. Worst case, if our rocks or weeds make it a pain, I can always move it along—around here they don’t sit on Marketplace long. Back home, we checked on the newest calves (including a big-legged new baby that’s decided his whole world is a hay pile), and I eased Candy back into the milking routine—with a kick bar, some feed, and a whole lot of patience. Some farm days are hard, but this one was plain joyful.