Don´t Fence Me In

Fences, to keep things, in......and to keep things out....

Recently my life has been consumed with fences, real ones and ones in and around my person.

Trying to build my little mini farm, has become quite the challenge. I have been all summer trying to get someone to build a chicken pen, to keep the chickens in, and the red tailed hawk, raccoons, coyotes and other miscellaneous creatures OUT!

But for some odd reason, the building of this pen has become equal in my mind to the building of the great wall of China! I wonder if the Chinese had to deal with workman not showing up for work, not calling in, or NEVER returning text messages? I wonder if the Chinese had to dicker with people on prices so they could save a few pennies when they bought used material?

I'm not quite sure but a lot of early fences were the work of slave labor. If they didn't show up they were executed.....hmmmmmmm......... that has me thinking!

I wish I could find someone in this country of ours that is willing to help this poor little farm girl build her dream of having a little mini farm, but alas, no such person is to be found.

I guess that is why I have built my own fences...fences that surround my heart and keep it safe, safe maybe not from a red tailed hawk, but a few sly foxes, that never return phone calls, or show up when they are supposed to either...

Not all fences are bad, and for now in my case....they will stay up, as for my chicken pen....I will be glad when it gets bulit.

The Simple Life At Church Camp

Well, I'm back, I was only gone from Sunday afternoon till Wednsday afternoon, but boy oh boy!

This was my oldest granddaughter Hailey's first year, at church camp. I went along, not as a cabin leader but as the camp nurse. (I can never get the vision of Cloris Leachaman as the nurse on Mel Brooks' movie "HIGH ANXIETY" out of my head as I say that....ugh!)



I stayed in the nurses quarters, and Hailey was in a cabin with other girls. I saw her at Chapel, meals, etc. so I was still a busy body grandma, without smothering her.

In between bandaids, bee stings, blisters and homesickness amongest the campers, I had the opoortunity to think, ponder, read, and remember the simple life I am so striving for.

Right now I am working two jobs, and trying to pay off bills, buy things for my house and little homestead, and get myself ready for my BIG life change into self sufficiency.

I miss my afternoons puttering in my flowers, making new flower beds, mowing, and taking my doggies for walks.

I miss sitting in my yard swing reading my bible, or just taking a nap.

Church camp gave me a refresher of why I am working so hard right now. Why I'm spending so much time away from my little funny farm, and toiling away for others.

FREEDOM!

FREEDOM to do as I please, when I please, and how I please. FREEDOM to not have to work at a job if I don't want too. FREEDOM to enjoy life, and grow closer to God.

FREEDOM. ...to be me!

The Party Line

Years ago the telephone party lines were our means of communication with the outside world, and they have a long history in the culture of America.


For you history buffs, the party line was introduced by Bell Telephone in 1891 to make phones more affordable to working class families, they began to be used for various purposes in the realm of the community.

By the 1950s party lines were used widely for socializing, however, they've since faded off the American landscape as a shared service. At least by Ma Bells standards.


We didn't have cell phones, internet, facebook etc. We had a black rotary dial telephone that was connected to a phone line that was connected to the every other farm house down the road.

Sometimes six to eight families used one line, so you can imagine how hard it could be to make or recieve a call!!

My cousin Donna(Vanmeter)Hubbard, would spend time at her grandmother's and we would set a time, when we would both pick up the phone and talk without ever having to dial each other! WOW! What a concept!

You would have thought we were spies, or working for the CIA, we thought we were too cool!

Many a day I would run in the back screen door at my grandmother's to find her sitting at the desk with her hand over the receiver part of the phone, LISTENING to someone else's conversation( Pre-historic facebook!)

She would have a Marlboro Red dangling from her fingertips as she shusshed me to be quiet so know one would know she was listening!

But of course all the ladies in our rural neighborhood did the same thing, even if they would never admit to it, but come Sunday morning at the local Baptist church, everyone knew everyone else's business...

Funny, it's just like that now, except, we have FACEBOOK to listen to everyone's conversations, and come this Sunday, everyone at the local Baptist church will know everyone else's business....Funny, as much as some things change, they still stay the same!

Hung Out To Dry

Grandma's blue cotton dress rose a little in the back as she bent over to pick up the clothes basket. I know she had other dresses, but for the life of me, the only one I can remember is the blue cotton one, maybe it was her favorite everyday dress, who knows, but it is emblazened on my memory.

She lifted the clothes basket and I watched her carefully open the screen door, heaven forbid if she would let it bang shut, like I did fifty million times a day.

Out the door she went and began hanging the freshly washed white cotton sheets on the line. They began to billow in the breeze like sails on a big sail boat.

I knew that I was definately staying all night with grandma and grandpa that night, which meant a bubble bath in the big claw foot tub, and then, I would slide into the bed on those sweet smelling line dryed sheets.

They were always cool, and fresh, and when one area got warm you could always stretch your leg over to a another cool spot!


The wonderful memory vanished as a big drop of sweat rolled into my eye. I pulled my bandanna head band down over my eyes and gave them a quick swipe. It was hot, 97 degrees in the shade, and a heat index of about 102, and I was out here digging around my clothes line posts so I could add more quick crete. They need to be straighted up, because they weren't straight.

My 2nd ex hubby(we will discuss this in another story) had helped me put these clothes line posts up a couple summers before, but he had not added enough conrete so they were leaning over like drunk sailors leaning over a bar.

I shoved my spade a little deeper into the hard ground surrounding the post and turned over another spade full.

I have a dryer, but my memories from my childhood drives me to re-create these things in my life now, for me, and for my grandkids. I want them to have these vivid recollections that will bring them comfort throughout their entire lives.

I heaved the 80 pound bag of concrete onto the ground and began to pour it into the hole I had just dug, and my mind drifted back to those white sheets blowing in the wind.........

And so It Begins.........

When I was a little girl, we lived on a farm.Scott County was much different back in the early 60's. We were a very rural, agriculturally based area. Our farm sat about 1 and 1/2 miles from the Clark/Scott county line.


Back in the day,( I used to HATE it when my parents would say that) most of the area around our farm belonged to other families, you could go several miles, before getting to someone else's farm. It wasn't like living in the big city of Scottsburg.


We raised beef cattle, Charlois to be exact, and one of my favorite past times was following the cow path's thru the field. The cows would follow one after another and walk in a row to the barn, or to the back forty, so they would wear a path in the field.


During those hot, southern Indiana summers, a cow path felt good on a little girls bare feet. They were wore down, and in the hot , dry sun the earth became soft from the continual pounding of hooves.


I can remember how the soft dust would sift up thru my toes, and "POOF" up into the air, then it would gently settle down on to the tops of my feet.


As there wasn't much to do back then, I would walk those paths, pretending to be on an AFRICAN SAFARI, or the Oregon trail, my adventures took me anywhere my creative mind would lead me!


Life, my dear friend, is very similar to a cow path. It can be as complicated, or simple as you choose to make it.


The trek, can be littered with adventure, creativity, joy, and laughter, but once in awhile just as a walk along the cow path, one might encounter some crap!


But how you handle that crap, how you go around it, over it or thru it is totally up to you.


This blog be it ever so humble, is my attempt to get back to the simple life of my youth, and to share along the way, my struggles, joys, and accomplishments, as well as a story now and then, a memory that needs to be shared, so they are not lost or forgotten.


I hope you enjoy our journey, it maybe get bumpy at times, but I believe that life along the cow path is worth every step.......so let's get mooooooving!