I had always planned to clean up this cute little cutter and put it in the parlor in front of the windows. However, we could never get the second big door open and it languished up in the building.
It doesn't look like I am ever going to get around to that job, so the boss took it over to the auction to sell this Saturday. If you are interested, get there early....
It belonged to his dad...he is said to have bought it for ten dollars from some people he did grounds keeping for.
We kept the bells, and if I can get somebody to ring them while I take video, you will soon get to hear them. They are the mellowest, most sweet-sounding sleigh bells I have ever heard. I have them in the kitchen right now and I jingle them several times a day just for the sheer enjoyment of it. I can just see it spanking down a snowy road with a little bay horse in front....and those bells making merry for all who could hear as it passed by.
My direction that is. My every single day has been bracketed by cows since I was roughly 26 years old. Maybe even younger...I don't quite remember when I started milking a hundred and fifty twice a day at Hollenbeck's and actually had cows even before then. That was a very long time ago. Now, without them....... I help with the meager helping of chores, what with the few animals we have left and then polish off all the other stuff I have always done, laundry, housework to my admittedly low standards, a little bookkeeping and filing. It takes maybe twenty minutes or half an hour to pick the stalls, milk Moon, feed hay and grain and feed the four bucket calves their milk. There are three of us to do it.... And then....what? I have been accustomed to a constant, unrelenting, and generally unreachable goal. And now, eh, it really doesn't matter. No milk inspector, no quality premiums to pursue. Can't wait for it to be warm enough and dry enough to at least get some garden planted. Can't wait for the auction to be over, as the boss is going all day every day getting ready for that. Can't wait to figure out what comes next.
That blasted wild, grey Tom, has poor Jetsam up a tree again.
I usually get up at or near, or on days when I have a lot of writing to do and need some peace and quiet, well before dawn. This is one of those days so..... First of all I got to stand in the center of the dawn chorus. Wow. We have an absurd number of robins around this spring and one was singing about ten feet from me when I walked Daisy by flashlight. Dozens of others warbled from every hedgerow and hillside. In fact they still are. Nice. I think it may be going to rain because they are crazy loud. Then as I sat here imbibing the first cup of coffee and putting off calling up this week's Farm Side and getting my act together, I heard this sorta familiar, but semi-out of place song. Just faintly. What the heck? And then it dawned. Last night just before we went to bed certain people who had been wheeling and dealing poultry showed up with three guinea hens and put them in the small chicken coop. Yep, that is what I hear. Guinea fowl.
Now if only I could explain as easilythe huge boom from off to the west that rattled the plates and shook the windows.