I chose the theme, Farm Livin'. Now, I haven't always lived in the boonies...as a girl I lived on Main Street, just one block from the bustling metropolis that was Lowell, Indiana...population 2,270. It was as a young bride that I moved to the country...to a hundred year old farmstead, complete with a dilapidated barn and a chicken coop. Those first few years, out of fear that someone would call me a city girl, I learned to glaze windows, butcher chickens, grow a garden, can tomatoes and make jelly. I embraced country living with gusto...and still do.
Just when Mr. Kattywhompus & I were beginning to think how nice it would be to have animals again, and that we should think about building a barn and putting up fence, something unexpected happened to remind us that animals, although wonderful, are hard work.
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and we had company after church. We had just finished eating lunch and were enjoying tea on the back deck with our "city friends", Barb & Amy. Mr K. & I were sitting with our backs to the driveway when suddenly Amy's eyes grew huge and Barb mouthed the word, "Goats". When I turned to see what all the excitement was about, I saw this...
A veritable goat stampede...about two dozen in all...turning in at the drive, heading up the hill, and coming straight for us-fast! Just as we sprang out of our comfy chairs and got the door closed behind us, the goats began to congregate on the deck. It was soon apparent that our deck could not accommodate such a large number of goats. No problem, one by one they jumped over the railing and found their way to the side yard. At this time, I should point out that we don't have goats... and our closest neighbor is over a mile away.
After we gathered our wits about us, we realized that no one seemed to be looking for these goats...and that it was up to us to herd them back to whence they came. Mr. Kattywhompus found a length of rope in the garage to use as a lead. He explained to us that where one goat goes, the others will follow. How he knew this, I'm not sure...but it turns out he was right.
By this time, city girl Amy, has been bewitched by the lost goats and begs us to allow her to "walk" the lead goat. What can we do, but allow it? After all, Amy is our guest. She is handed the rope and off she teeters in her high heels and church clothes, behind "her" goat. Four adults, three children and two dozen goats start down the road, hopefully heading for home.
All is going well until two young girls from the neighboring farm ride up on bicycles, shouting, arms waving...each with a tiny chihuahua dog tucked under her arm. The girls are from migrant families and neither of them speak English. We have no idea what the girls are saying, but the WAY they are saying it makes the goats run faster. I gotta hand it to city girl Amy, she never lets go of the rope. The girls with chihuahuas lead the way and we scramble to keep up with Amy. At this point we must look like some deranged version of The Bremen Town Musicians.
When we get the goats back to the neighboring farm, we find no one at home. Between hand gestures and my eighth grade Spanish, we surmise that the girls have accidentally let the goats out of their pen. The girls showed us where the goats belong...but we would no sooner get one goat in the pen, than another would jump over the fence. We finally realized that we were putting the goats in the horse pen. My Spanish was rustier than I thought.
Let's just say that through a series of unfortunate events, the horse got out...and while we were corralling the horse, a few pigs got loose, and then some sheep wandered. Eventually we (Mr. Kattywhompus) got all the animals inside the various pens.
Farmer Bailey had a nice day at the county fair...but was confused when he came home that evening to find his livestock rearranged.
Mr. Kattywhompus is rethinking that barn.
And city girls Amy & Barb sent us the nicest thank you note...said it was the best time they'd had in a long while. They can't wait to be invited back.
Farm livin' is the life for me.
Until next time...