August 12, 2007 – I cannot imagine how Robbin Slater manages a job as complex and difficult, how he masters all of that dirt, machinery, those rocks, and helpers, all those wires and pipes and then copes with all of the sudden dramas – hidden wells and culverts, boulders, broken cables, nervous customers, wires and water pipes. It is not conceivable to someone like me how landscapes are rearranged, long drives are lowered, culverts dug, pipes laid, and foundations dug out and restored. 
  Everything is taken apart, everything is put back together. People can literally rearrange the earth.
  All in the hot sun, in hot machines, with bugs and rain. And Robin is more than willing to explain it, and does so clearly and with flair.
  In the few weeks that Robbin Slater has been here, he has rebuilt the foundations on two barns, recountered the landscape around the meadow, moved tons of dirt and rocks to rebuilt my water ravaged driveway and hillside behind the house. He has an enormous number of monstrous tractors, trucks and other machines, and he manages all of this with a grace, humor and intellect that actually makes the mess a pleasure. Sort of
  And I never thought – not in a million years – that I would enjoy or even survive the dust and mud and interruptions, the ground rattling and shaking right outside my window while I tried to work.
  It wasn’t bad. Robbin is what I call a rural philosopher. He might not be on NPR, but he ought to be, and if  you listen to him, you will perhaps learn a lot more about how the earth works than you will on NPR.
   And Robbin’s narratives about water and earth are mesmerizing and impressive. He is the first hydrolic philosopher I’ve ever met. He has a sense of humor, too, and he needs one.
  “Hey,” I yelled out at Robbin as tons of dirt and rock were dumped in my driveway right outside my office, “do you think Ernest Hemingway had to go through this?” Robbin shrugged and said that well, if he had this kind of water problem he  probably did.
  But I think the most impressive thing about Robbin isn’t the competent and professional way he works and gets things done, but the fact that he always remembers to be a human being in the process.  The people who work with him are hard-working and courteous, and comfortable, as he is.
  And Robbin often brings his son Ryan to work, and Ryan is just as nice to have around as Robbin and his crew. He has fed the goats and donkeys and visited the cows. Today, he herded the sheep with Rose.
  I am impressed by this, and it is a lovely thing to see. I did not have the blessing of a close relationship with my father. We went to one or two baseball games, but other than that, I don’t recall our ever doing anything together at all. I surely would not have enjoyed time together the way Ryan and Robbin do. It is touching to look out the window and see Ryan riding next to his dad in the tractor, his father’s around him, the two of them as comfortable and at ease as if they were sitting in the living room watching TV. They are both visibly proud of one another, and that is a rare thing to see.
  I have a good friend who has also had a difficult relationship with his father, and he wondered at the story of Robbin and Ryan roaring around in the tractor all day. “Wow,” he said. “I wonder if Ryan knows how lucky he is.” I suspect so. He certainly will one day.
  My driveway is also looking good too, as are the foundations of the barns. I have a hunch that much of the water now pouring down into the barns and near the house will now go where it belongs, down the hill.

   Ryan befriends Rumsfeld the ram

  
 
  Ryan herds the sheep with Rose