As I sit here this evening, exhausted from staying up until the wee hours earlier this morning due to coyote issues, gagging over yet another evening of an ever persistent skunk fouling up the air, I am able to reflect on the day. Many nights after the kids go to bed and it's quiet I enjoy thinking about how things went. This evening, probably because of the skunk funk, I'm thinking about morning chores.
I have a habit of doing morning chores in my pajamas. Not the really nasty stall cleaning out stuff, just the morning wake-up calls and feeding parts. I'm sure lots of folks do farm chores wearing their pajamas. For me, it's been the way of it is since we moved here. No matter that the first week we lived here I locked myself out of the house and had to walk up and down the next road over looking for someone who was home so I could borrow their telephone to get a locksmith over. At least I had my bathrobe on; it was January. I'm sure the mailman didn't think a thing of it last week when I was running around the yard in my p.j.'s picking up Phoebe's wool when the wind started blowing. After 4 1/2 years of delivering the mail here nothing should phase him.
Usually the garbage is picked up early, before the school bus gets the kids. I asked the Kid to drag the can up the driveway by the van so the bus didn't hit it. No big deal. Bus safety, don't you know. After the bus picked up the kids I put on my worn yet still cheery fuschia rain boots with the yellow chickens. I thought they went quite well with the pink shorty nightgown that sported sheep all over it. I even added a light sweater since it was chilly out. I was pure class. Then off I went to get the chores done.
After I was finished I decided to shake out some dirty Shetland fleece and wash it. Might as well get dressed afterwards since it can be a dirty job. As I was shaking it out I thought I heard the familiar sound of the garbage truck, but figured my ears were deceiving me because it should have already been here. The Kid had moved the empty can for me. But there it was...the garbage truck was rounding the turn at the front pasture. I thought surely Kid wouldn't have moved a can full of garbage back. I ran up the driveway to where the can sat and gave it a tug. It didn't move because it was full. Next thing you know I'm trying to get the garbage man's attention so he doesn't keep driving on and will stop for the garbage. I'm sure it was my hollering that got him to stop. The man was quite nice about me not having the can sitting out at the road. He said he was a substitute for the day, that the regular guy wasn't working today, and he got a late start. I told him my story of Kid dragging a can full of garbage back from the road, and he said he completely understands, that his kid would have done the same thing. See, totally normal. Then I told him I was glad he heard me and didn't drive off without the garbage. He said he didn't hear me, but it was hard to miss me in my pajamas and boots trying to run up the driveway while dragging a garbage can. Yup, totally normal.
So, there you have it folks. The end to another day here at The Silver Maple Farm. The crickets are chirping, the skunk is stinking, and if you're ever driving by in the morning...okay, any time of day...and see something that might not look quite right, don't worry because it's totally normal. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
I'm the queen of our farm, although the animals haven't figured that out yet. My title is Head Chicken Wrangler, but most days I'm called Mom. Life is a comedy and I plan on documenting it.