My mom grew up on a farm in New City, NY, where my uncle Richie still lives to this day at the age of 101. Dad, he was an Oklahoma country boy, wild as a weed! So, this conversation may sound ok, coming from their perspective. But only in the country is this considered a “normal” conversation:
“What's for dinner?”
“Go kill a chicken.”
For cryin' out loud, Dad! I was a bona fide, Catholic-School-Girl-City-Slicker for the first twelve years of my life. We had a carpool, and bought food in stores and everything! I do believe I still suffer PTSD from “Chicken Killing Day”, and yes, we did have to do it. The implications for self-analyzing are endless! Trust me! Food issues....
At the time, that was what it was. And I opted to head to my mom's beautiful vegetable garden. Protected with a nine foot chicken wire fence, clustered with wild roses and sweet peas, to keep the deer out. Well...that does not work, because with a running start, nine feet of chicken wire is not a challenge for hungry deer, who happen to consider roses & sweet peas appetizers. So, I would plant myself in there and eat tomatoes off the vine, as if they were apples. My brother, he had chicken...
And, only in the country can you trade a baby goat and an old truck wind shield for a running '63 Falcon station wagon. Back in the 1970's part of getting ready for school was, for Kathy and Julie (my little sisters), to feed the chickens and collect the eggs. We lived in the Sierra Nevada mountains, on a little over an acre. And we had lovable African Geese, who were more like pets. Each morning they would waddle up to the back door on the porch, tap on the glass with their beaks and “honk” for crusts of bread. They were named Mama & Papa Gooser.
My brother & I had a much more trying job each morning- milking the goat. Her name was Baby. Sounds sweet, huh? Baby was anything but sweet, and fought us every morning. We'd get the pail about full, and that dang goat stuck her foot in it every time, just as it was filling to the brim- kicking over the pail and spilling out all of our hard work, leaving no milk for breakfast the next day. Mike and I devised a plan to outfox that goat. We'd get her head in the stock, give her fresh hay, (because she could not resist fresh hay!) and my brother would pick up her hind legs like they were wheel barrow handles. And I would milk like crazy. It wasn't easy milking, laughing, and holding onto a goat like a wheel barrow! Baby wasn't so keen on this method, and she hollered and kicked with her mouth full of hay the entire time! But...we had milk.
The Twisted Sister challenge this week is to make a card based on a childhood memory and write a story. If you'd like to play along, please add TSC0817 to your keywords, and tell us about yourself!
Thanks for looking!
Date: Friday, August 17, 2012 GMT Views: 5226
Registered: December 4, 2009 Location: Southern Utah's Dixie Posts: 1163
Fri, Aug 17, 2012 @ 5:51 AM
Pat, not only does your beautiful card bring back the wonderful memories of the less stressful (?) days, but your story is a wonderful glimpse into life back then. Simpler days, maybe, happier days, definitely!! I love your beautiful country barn with thoughts of those wonderful days gone by!!
Registered: July 20, 2007 Location: Fergus, Ontario, Canada Posts: 9198
Fri, Aug 17, 2012 @ 6:10 AM
Oh Pat, this card is absolutely gorgeous! I love the colours and that wonderful country scene! Love the flower soft tree and grass. I also love the picket fence and the gingham bow.The beautiful die cut edges make this a real keepsake.
I also grew up in the country, and each Saturday afternoon, my father would kill a chicken for Sunday dinner. As children we loved to watch the chicken body keep running around after her head was chopped off! Gross, I know, but we were farm kids!
"Surely His salvation is near those who fear Him, that His glory may dwell in our land." Psalm 85:9
Registered: October 19, 2007 Location: Packer Country, WI Posts: 3150
Fri, Aug 17, 2012 @ 6:10 AM
When I opened up this beautiful card, I had no idea I would be entertained by one great story. I too being a country gal, can totally relate to your memory. Thanks for the story and the beautiful card. Into my favs. PS We know where the chicken dance orginated from don't we.
Oh my goodness, I loved your story and can relate. Thanks for sharing your sweet treasured memories.
This card is so grand, love the way you off set the inner frame, the picket fence and flower soft are so perfect! TFS!!!
Registered: February 21, 2007 Location: Bucks County, PA, Just north of Philadelphia Posts: 4237
Fri, Aug 17, 2012 @ 9:14 AM
Well, Pat, that's quite a few memories all rolled into your story - just what I hoped for when I came up with this challenge, and you sure delivered!!
Love this gorgeous framed picture of the barn and the rolled hay stamped on the soft caramel DP - the flower soft sure made it come to life, as did the fence on the side, and the country look of the gingham ribbon. What a great way to include your story about the chickens with the BG paper - I laughed so hard hearing about the goat milking with Mike, tears were running down my face. I have some "country memories" but nothing that can compare to your story - thanks so much for sharing one of the pleasant memories of your childhood! Great card and story for the TSC!! Hugs!! LYMI
------------------------------ SUE aka GREENIE - Twisted Sistah Handmade cards because..No one displays an email on their mantle, or saves a FB post in a box of treasures! Nothing is impossible with God!
Registered: October 21, 2010 Location: in the okanagan in b.c. canada Posts: 1280
Fri, Aug 17, 2012 @ 10:05 AM
Oh Pat, you so made me smile. such a sweet story. As you already know we grew up on the farm too and I can relate. Not with the goat milking (but My aunty and uncle had a couple goats and so I can imagine...lol). I remember the chicken days too. we all helped with different tasks.
It reminds me too of like yellow rose said the heads off and they dancing about, My fav. time of that wierd as it is is once we just did a turkey and our dog was chasing it and it looked as though it was running away and could see where to run away from the dog, was so bizzare..lol.
Great sotry and also you uncle 101....wowzers, now THAT could be a lot of stories to sit and listen to as well...I just could not imagine...thanks for the story and memories.
And this is just a county bumbkin beauty. Sweet scene and great use of that flower soft. I keep forgetting to use it except with the special pictures for it. and love that lil picket fence and ribbon...LYMI...HUGS
------------------------------ We as people are raindrops of colorful ink , falling down Crisp and Clear, each a different shade more vibrant then the last, but once we realize at the bottom of an endless abyss we all fall into the same inkpot forming one color, only then can we come together as one My son.
Your story is so precious. TFS . I was a city girl who married a farm boy. When we were first married, we lived in town for a while and then moved to a farm in southern Minnesota.
Raising cattle was something new for me. Thanks for bringing back happy memories of our children on the farm.
Your card is just wonderful!
Splitcoast Dirty Dozen Alumni My Pinkie is Inkie in Boxertown
Registered: April 4, 2006 Location: Boxertown USA, IL Posts: 6908
Fri, Aug 17, 2012 @ 11:46 AM
What an awesome farm scene. I like how you tied the fence up with that pretty bow. The flower soft trees are great, my flower soft never looks puffy like that. I thought for "shore" you would mention Strawberry. I guess that might be saved for another story time. Thanks for sharing your memories.
Registered: January 10, 2008 Location: Wausau, Wisconsin Posts: 77
Fri, Aug 17, 2012 @ 6:05 PM
Love the card AND the story. Brings back memories of "butchering" day. I tried to stay out of the way. The barn reminds me of the night my brother came in with his arm hanging funny. Was icy in the yard and he slid and hit the barn wall. His comment? "I think I broke my da-n arm!" Ah, the life of country-raised kids, huh? Your story about the goat was priceless!
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