Monday, May 19, 2008

Bona-fide Farm Chick

Whether my husband admits it about me or not, deep down I'm a bona-fide farm chick.

My two younger brothers and I were raised on a farm that was fashioned 5 miles from the nearest town--population 600. You'd frequently see beef cattle, cats, and dogs on our well as my paternal grandparents' farm that is a short walk down our hill. One year my mom took on the Mother Hen role and raised baby chicks that eventually grew to be plump enough for the butcher. What she realized is that Mother Hens don't--and will never--enjoy sending off their babies to such a place. That was the first and last year of that. And, oh, they were cute!

There are many things from the farm that still linger in my mind. Like the 5-6 nights after my dad weaned the calves each year from their mamas at our farm, relocating them to their new home at my grandparents' farm. Neither party was happy with the moo00000oove, leaving loud cranky cows that missed their little ones, and me wide awake in my bed thinking how sad the whole situation was.

And, then there's harvest. Riding in the combine (For all you East coast readers--a combine is a corn and bean picker. I still can't believe some of my college friends had no idea of this.) with my dad, watching the corn get sucked up the auger, and sitting next to the warm corn dryer are just a few other farm memories that give me warm fuzzies. I still consider the smell of drying field corn one of the top smells of all times. It's right up there with fresh cut grass and sharpie markers.

These, and many more memories, were uncovered last weekend while the kids and I spent the night at our home-away-from-home--my friend Leah's house. We were able to meet two new members of their family, their little lambs Lolly and Louie (Hallelujah). And, boy were the children as happy as little clams lambs while they fed them their bottles.

What a fabulous place a farm is! A place where pedicures are unwarranted and drying your clothes on the line is the trend. So, for all you farm girls, with your glass of whole milk raised in the air, here's to the Sisterhood of Farm Girls. Yehaw!


Lisa H said...

This is great! I'm not a farm girl (yet!) but I've always wanted to be one. We're moving this summer and I've already given our new place a ranch name and bought books on how to raise chickens....maybe I'll have to rethink that one after your story....or we'll just keep 'em for the eggs. We'll see.

Great post!

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