You may have seen yesterday's post about two generations of farm girls doing what farm girls do. I wish I had seen Peggy's reaction to that barn full of wonderful cows, not to mention baby goats, and human kids to play with as well. Here are a couple more....farm girls of another era...the taller girl is the Boss's mom, an amazing person I wish you could have known. The smaller blond is his auntie, 97 years old now and darned near as sharp as ever. They were farm girls too, on that little place up on Fiery Hill, before loss and hard times sent them other ways. Our Peggy is named after both of them...Peggy and Ann...she even has the same last initial as they did when they were young girls. Of course the Boss's mom ended up here on this farm and named the place and showed it love. So many things are still hers...your mama's apple tree...your mama's garden....your mama's sitting porch....sometimes you leave a mark on a place and she sure did. I still have almost all of her houseplants and tend them faithfully and with love. We surely miss her.
The kids finished digging potatoes yesterday...a really nice crop too, and they are so delicious! Peggy went along to help...her mama buried some little ones in soft dirt so she could dig her own. When they came back to the house she had to show me every single one of them, one at a time. I made a big deal out of sniffing each one..they just smell like dirt...and saying "foo" and making a face. She thought that was hilarious, so she brought me more and more and more of them. Then she moved them from box to box and then hauled them in the living room. By bedtime last night she was still bringing me taters and laughing uproariously at "foo!". How could you not love her?
You run over to the milk house windowsill at the barn to get a roll of Vetrap to doctor on your arm, upon which you have poison ivy, or wild parsley poisoning, or some other natural, outdoor, chemical, nasty burn. You are certainly a farm girl if it doesn't bother you that it is calf scours yellow.
And, yes, Virginia, there are beans. Beans for dinner last night. Another big bowl in the fridge waiting to be put up today. One half row almost ready, the picked over rows putting out a few already, and at least three more rows in the upper garden not in bloom yet and needing weeding, but growing. I am seeing beans in my sleep.
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