My palms were sweating. I could feel my pulse even in my toes. I can’t remember the last time I was so nervous — maybe a high school speech class — but then again, maybe not. For the first time since I started wearing high heels, I felt a little wobbly — and I’m pretty sure even the bottoms of my feet were sweating. I was in Seattle for a book signing — my book signing.

Since I was 10 years old and learning to diagram, I knew I wanted to write. I love stories: I love to listen to stories, I love to read stories, I love to write stories. And now here I was, ready to sign my name for anyone wanting to read those stories.

It was a terrifyingly wonderful experience. I put on my best smile and my highest heels, and spent the next few hours chatting with strangers. One question I was asked over and over, “What inspired the name of the book, ‘High Heels & Tractor Wheels?’”

Well, I was always told you should write what you know best. For me that is farm life and family. And while Muck boots and work boots are the steak and potatoes of farm life, heels are the apple pie — high heeled shoes to be exact. Life is short — heels shouldn’t be.

I’d trade all the lipstick, the lash extensions, the big purses and the essential oils for forklifts, tractors, grease guns and small wallets — but when it comes to heels, I’m all girl. Mark Twain once wrote that “clothes make the man,” but for a girl, a new pair of shoes can be life-changing — just ask Cinderella.

I love shoes, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who you are asking), I don’t have a lot of time or money to spend shoe shopping. My aunt, however, does. Her husband, like many husbands, doesn’t seem to understand the point of owning more than three pairs of shoes: a formal pair, a work pair and a pair to play ball in. “So many heels, and only two feet,” he’ll remark dryly. My aunt’s shoe closet is a place where dreams come true. I have often stood looking at box after box of gorgeous wedges, heels and platforms. She doesn’t need to fear people looking in her closet for family skeletons — all anyone will find there is fabulous shoes!

I’m not sure what I did to make the stars smile, but last week they certainly were shining. After a long and rainy spring, I was finally back out on the tractor, the sun was shining, the kids were happily playing in the tractor cab — and things were about to get even better. My aunt is retiring and moving, and cleaning out her shoe closet — and just like Cinderella, there are only two of her nieces whose feet fit into her pretty little slippers.

My aunt would text photos of a group of shoes. Then my cousin and I would take turns picking out the shoes we liked. Once those were through, my aunt would text another group of photos. It was amazing. Shoe shopping from my phone while GPS and autosteer assured my rows were perfectly straight. Now that’s a good day — and the eptiome of the High Heels & Tractor Wheels.

And so standing in a book store, wearing new-to-me heels, I opened up the front cover of my book and in a red pen I signed:

“Say no to drugs,

get high on heels…

…and buy a tractor to match!”

Brianna Walker occasionally writes about the Farmer’s Fate for the Blue Mountain Eagle.