'Slosh' goes the milk into the bucket.
'Ooof' goes the chore hand as she hefts 8 gallons of milk.
'Thunk' goes the door as it's opened.
'Brrr' goes the chore hand as she walks toward the barn through the chilly morning air.
'BAAAAAAAAA!' go the hungry hungry calves as they see their breakfast arriving.
'Vrrrrmmmmm' goes the skidsteer as another bale is unrolled for those hungry babies equally hungry mommas.
'Clank' go the headlocks as the cows reach for a tantalizing mouthful of hay.
'cluck buck buck' goes the lone barnyard hen as she scrabbles for a kernel or two of corn.
'peep' goes something nearby as the chore hand walks back for the remaining buckets of milk.
Wait....Peep? What goes PEEP in the middle of winter?
'Hon, come listen' says the chore hand.
'Where's a ladder' asks the farmer.
'What's making that noise' asks the chore hand.
'Two chicks. And there's 9 more eggs' says the farmer.
'Buck Buck Buck' says the now flustered momma hen as she shoos us away from her little family and nestles them back under her warm cozy feathers in her oh so cozy nest in a little hidden nook of the wall.
And so ends this morning's excitement at the barn.
(Whoever heard of a hen hatching chicks this time of year?)
Friday, November 21, 2014
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Kids at Play
I hear the rumbly Brrrrrrrruuuuummmm. Brrrrruuuuuuummmmm of a large piece of farm machinery starting up.
I hear a myriad of Moos, Honks, Baas, Neighs, Clucks, Meows coming from the barnyard.
I hear the farmer holler Who's hungry? as he heads out to the barn.
Tractors busily plowing, digging, spreading, combining, chopping, baling, or mowing fields.
Assorted barnyard animals live in a rather interestingly shaped barn.
A farmer busily feeds a bale to the small herd hungrily awaiting their morning grub.
To the two blond kids playing Barnyard, it doesn't matter that their animals are plastic and stand no higher than a few inches. It doesn't matter that their tractors are miniscule compared to the real deal and need 'hand power' to move. It doesn't matter that their fields are floors, chairs, couches and bales are blocks. It doesn't matter that their barns are made of Lincoln Logs.
In their imagination, their pint-sized living room farm is every bit as big and real as the one they really live on and they are farming just like their daddy.
I hear a myriad of Moos, Honks, Baas, Neighs, Clucks, Meows coming from the barnyard.
I hear the farmer holler Who's hungry? as he heads out to the barn.
Tractors busily plowing, digging, spreading, combining, chopping, baling, or mowing fields.
Assorted barnyard animals live in a rather interestingly shaped barn.
A farmer busily feeds a bale to the small herd hungrily awaiting their morning grub.
To the two blond kids playing Barnyard, it doesn't matter that their animals are plastic and stand no higher than a few inches. It doesn't matter that their tractors are miniscule compared to the real deal and need 'hand power' to move. It doesn't matter that their fields are floors, chairs, couches and bales are blocks. It doesn't matter that their barns are made of Lincoln Logs.
In their imagination, their pint-sized living room farm is every bit as big and real as the one they really live on and they are farming just like their daddy.
Friday, November 14, 2014
Morning Drive
Since we've moved the cows to their winter abode, I now have a commute longer than the 25 steps from my back door to the barn door. (Now, I take 5 steps to the van door and drive for 10 minutes.) Here's today's 'word picture' of that drive.
Crisp shivery air. Jack Frost has left his sparkly signature on everything in sight. Trees are wreathed in silver, the air is full of crystal haze, a dusting of snow shimmers the ground. There is a crunching underfoot as I scamper to my vehicle. Icicles tinkle as they snap loose from the van door and shatter on the ground. I noticed that all the nature sounds are clear and cold this morning while all the man-made sounds are low and grumbly. Like the van as it growls it's 'why are you starting me up on such a cooooooolllldddd morning?' rumble. (Also like the children of mine as they grudgingly roll out of their cozy warm beds, dress, and bundle for the chilly weather.)
Driving to the barn, you see signs of winter's arrival everywhere. The van thermometer showing a 'balmy' 4 degrees. Snow in the ditches, frost on the trees, ice on the ponds. The prickle in your nose as you breathe a bit too deeply of the brisk morning air.
At the barn, there's signs of Old Man Winter settling in as well. Snow dusted cows come walking in the barn, water tanks have frozen, calves bellow their disagreement at finding their feeders are cold (until warmed by the milk, that is), chore hands find chapped hands and cold toes a normal thing.
Yes, winter is here.
Crisp shivery air. Jack Frost has left his sparkly signature on everything in sight. Trees are wreathed in silver, the air is full of crystal haze, a dusting of snow shimmers the ground. There is a crunching underfoot as I scamper to my vehicle. Icicles tinkle as they snap loose from the van door and shatter on the ground. I noticed that all the nature sounds are clear and cold this morning while all the man-made sounds are low and grumbly. Like the van as it growls it's 'why are you starting me up on such a cooooooolllldddd morning?' rumble. (Also like the children of mine as they grudgingly roll out of their cozy warm beds, dress, and bundle for the chilly weather.)
Driving to the barn, you see signs of winter's arrival everywhere. The van thermometer showing a 'balmy' 4 degrees. Snow in the ditches, frost on the trees, ice on the ponds. The prickle in your nose as you breathe a bit too deeply of the brisk morning air.
At the barn, there's signs of Old Man Winter settling in as well. Snow dusted cows come walking in the barn, water tanks have frozen, calves bellow their disagreement at finding their feeders are cold (until warmed by the milk, that is), chore hands find chapped hands and cold toes a normal thing.
Yes, winter is here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)