The More

The more I live each new day the faster time flies, the faster the Holidays descend upon me.
I’m not exactly sure what’s happened to Della. The new kitten aged somewhere maybe between ten to twelve weeks old, that’s all, Frieda trying all manner of names finally settling on “Tas” from Tasmanian Devil (after the kitten‘s rather unorthodox behavior. This calico many bright colors was born to play, love and beloved in her bust busy-way. Ah yes a very purr-cosious critter bouncing around the house liking a popcorn kernel destined to remain an old maid trying to let its inner self out is showing Della the way to pet-full happiness behavior.
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Unmentioned activities for the rest of the troops activities had them push a good lot of the cattle through the chutes, where in they wormed and inoculated. A couple of these ladies with their tattooed and tagged calves were moved to winter quarters. A couple more head, a blind bull and an odd freemartin heifer were bus loaded and ticketed to Dizzyland for their last amusements before being worthily boned out and hamburger packaged.
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Last night taking inventory my behavior, I told my Frieda, “I may have to take up smoking to quit sucking Wintergreen Lifesavers.” She thought that….well….never mind…….
And life goes on.
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A posted Turkey story reminded us……..
Although our parents poultry keepings were small. Setting hens hatching out new young hatch about the end of each Spring they weren't whole sale operations. Although mom had steady store and private customers for them.
Oh lawd, cleaning the hen house out each spring and fall during cooler weather on a day with a more or less stiff breeze as many the windows we could open, the ammonia in the manure was about breathtaking.
And how it was it seemed I was elected and handed first the hatch and then the boiled hot water to kill and dress an extra chicken should we have unexpected Sunday company for dinner.
Sorry! No use stopping in unexpectedly around here. The hen house houses on these farms have been turned into storage sheds these last twenty five years.
And remember, you are what you eat.
Pleasant Feasting
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Another board topic: Sky fallen balloons!
It's always been a concern of mine some thoughtless soul launching these tempting turned trash curiosities a critter who’d bend to ingest such a thing and sample it. Read on as I've herd this story repeated. A young yet some years ago, at that time having come out to this very farm for one dairyman Johnson's slobbering dairy cow. Puzzled and watching the gentle beast, her licking the inside her right cheek, Doc Pearson (still living) reached right in, way back, into her mouth and cheek and brought out a tin can lid eatened from farmer Johnson's very own trash dump. :yes:
Fernan
I think I've averaged a thin vinyl or rubber balloon and all its tailing streamers every other year since moving out here. Some thoughtless people will go to any height to spread potential trash over a placid country scene.
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While still morning, planning my breakfasting, I hadn’t made up my mind whether I wanted to either get into trouble or tire myself out. Still have them barn door tracks to finish if the scene’s devoid the troops or cut and split firewood out here along side the house. Meanwhile Frieda’s dressed and ready for church to confess my sins. Should be a heck of a day which ever way I turn.
Air’s nippy. Mostly cloudy with a bit of sun trying to peek through as I diligently tell it like it is without any embellishments. ;^)
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More and less, plans whatever they might have been can be changed around here in an instant. Take for instance the library throne had over flowed messing that floor. Argh! Towels thrown on the floor to quickly soak up that what could be rivers held from spreading into the hall and cascading from about the hot air register under the vanity to the basement floor below.
It’s offal my abandoning my duty to do chores finding two ladies out for the crews messing up my gates positioning about the barnyard. Enlisting aid my aid coming to my need we had the ladies back in where they belonged in good time. I’d never gotten them in by myself. Tasting freedom they’d not come back willingly for one only drover.
Where they belonged I had witness two buck kills take from out back.
Moseyed across the road, winding up drinking coffee, smoking, and sampling schnapps. Floor scrubbing could wait. Frieda’s prescripts called in, dinner eatened, I was on my way turning left out the drive way for drug and grocery stores. By the time I got back I had spent a bundle of bucks on medications, included for starts onions, celery, cranberries (I can’t have), diced tomatoes on sale, ice-cream, and cookies. Getting back it were quarter to dinner.
What little I had been out had determined me I wasn’t going up any ladder. Should my nee give out I’ve enough padding to bounce cleanly enough for a winning score. I guess I had better wash floors. Getting is some thinking I receive a call. A fence is down at the other end. Hokay, I loaded myself in Greene toting three buckets of tools and fence supplies. The uneven ground in the pens, the fence down between two, my knee complained loudly in my mind. To keep the knee company I’d developed a pain in my neck’s lower left side below the ear. What? I carried on doing what I had to do even caught in the draft for moving some ladies and spring calves around. I was also to learn I’d never accomplished any work on the sliding door tract as the troops had rallied around a head-gate partially parked in the same door way. A working conflict of labors somebody would had been in somebody else’s way. I had managed to goof off 80% of my day engaged if frivolous endeavors returning home I repaired the same fence gate the morning‘s two ladies had gone through to wind there way out into areas where upon I‘d decided they had not belonged. Putting my tools away. Gathering up a piece of wire, a pair of pliers I head for the house. Darkness came early this evening the sun having had gone into hiding when I had first left this morning.
Believe it or not, but I feel some rested having been hard at it accomplishing near nothing all day.
“Rainbows“
Fernan.