August on the Farm

Out on the farm in the days when crops were planted, cultivated, and harvested by horse drawn implements and that long-handled tool called a hoe, August was welcomed as time when the crops were ‘laid by’. A horse and plow would only damage the full-grown plants, and the heat was wilting the few weeds that had escaped the hoe.

Life slowed down—but never to the point that was nothing to do. The corn ears were dry and hanging haphazardly on the stalks. It was time to sweep out the old log crib and soak the wagon wheels so the metal rims wouldn’t fall off as the corn was hauled in.

My Dad hooked his team to his wagon and let the team pull the wagon slowly down the rows of corn, while he pulled the ears of corn off the stalks and tossed them into the wagon. Leather gloves were not a luxury—they were a necessity for wrenching off all those ears in their dry shucks. Trip after trip was made back to the barn, where the corn was unloaded into the crib to be saved for winter feed for both livestock and meal for cornbread..

Another job finished, but another waited. Those leafy cornstalks couldn’t be left in the field to waste. They, too, were saved for winter feed. But they didn’t just nicely arrange themselves into nice teepees like those in harvest-time pictures. That took days of hot, stingy work by human hands.

Dad had a large curved knife he used to cut the stalks. Then they were bundled into a manageable size and tied with a length of binder twine. Then the bundles needed to be carried or dragged a short distance to where they were shocked. Not electrically, but in teepee shapes called corn shocks. The dragging was my job. I hated corn-shocking time. I was't real happy with child labor, either.

It’s not surprising that I looked forward to school starting. But wait—there were Saturdays, and the peanut crop to be harvested. I’ll rest a few days, then tell you all about it.

Dannie

Two Friends and a Bottle of Sherry

I have a friend named Bessie Mae, that comes over and drinks coffee with me each morning, and we sit around the table with our coffees and talk about our ailments—I’m ninety and she’s eighty—so we have a lot to talk about.

Anyway, sometimes we talk about other things, like our kids and recipes, and stuff like that.  So one morning we got to talking about a recipe for a sherry cake. Let me tell you, that is one delicious cake, but I’ve never made one myself because I don’t keep sherry in my pantry—at least not real sherry, and that’s what the recipe calls for.

Well, the more we talked about how good it was, the hungrier we got for that cake, so we decided we’d run out to the liquor store out on the highway—well of course I don’t mean we were going to really run out there—we’re not that lively anymore. In fact, we don’t walk too well, but you know, it gets pretty boring just sitting around all the time, even if you do have a new ailment to talk about every day, so we decided we’d just make a little trip to the liquor store—in Bessie Mae’s car, of course. I don’t drive nowadays.

It’s not because I can’t—I just didn’t want to fool with taking a driving test again. My gosh, I took one a few years back—well, I reckon it was about seventy years ago, but anyway, I’ve parked my car for awhile. I may change my mind about taking that test, though. It’s just that I don’t hear too well and might irritate the trooper if I kept on driving after he said stop.

Oh well. Back to our trip to the liquor story. I got my walker, and Bessie Mae got her cane—she’s younger than I, remember, and she’s one lively lady. I think it’s because of her red hair. Anyone with hair that red just has to be lively.  Come to think about it, I don’t remember her hair being red when she was younger

Oh well, back to our trip to the liquor store. It wasn’t far, so we made the trip without any problems. One guy kept honking at us, but we didn’t pay him any attention. We just figured he was trying to get Bessie Mae’s attention on account of her hair. She has that effect on guys, you know.

Well, anyway, here we were at the store, so we parked---well actually we parked several times. Bessie Mae kept ending up kinda catawampus with the lines. But she finally got parked straight enough so nobody would bump in to us—she’s had her left fender repaired three times because of the careless way people park.

We had a little trouble at the door. I can tell you it’s not easy to hold a walker and open one of these heavy doors some stores seem to like nowadays. And then the darn thing kept trying to close before I could get out of the way.

So there we were, and I can tell you that there were so many bottles we didn’t know which way to turn, No one paid us any attention, until my walker knocked a couple of bottles off a shelf. That’s when a clerk came over and offered to help us.

When we told him we needed a bottle of sherry so we could make a sherry cake, he tried to tell us we needed cooking sherry. When we told him the recipe called for real sherry, he just shrugged and pointed to another aisle and said “Take your pick, ladies.” and walked away.

Well, I thought he could’ve been more helpful, but that’s the way it is nowadays. Anyway, we found the sherry without any more help, but we had no idea there were so many kinds. Finally, Bessie Mae picked out a bottle she thought was pretty and said “Let’s get out of here,” so we paid and left. No body asked us to come back, which I thought was a little rude, but it really didn’t matter, because I had no intention of ever visiting that place again.

I think Bessie Mae was a little annoyed, though, but she didn’t let it affect her driving. She obeyed the speed limit and didn’t get distracted by all those people that honked and waved to get her attention. They all seemed to be in a hurry and looked like they were out of sorts about something, so we were glad to get back home and take a little sip of that sherry.

That cake can wait until another day.

Happily,

Dannie
(hm-mm)

No Politics, No Terrorist—Just Pleasant

Sometimes we just need s rest from all the unpleasantness we'e bombarded with, and nothing is better than scenes from nature, whether it's butterflies or flowers, trees or lakes—or both.

For the flower lovers

And the fascinating butterflies

Trees - miniature, colorful, and strange

Easy to look at

 And awesome


Enjoy,
Dannie