Into each life a little rain must fall.

I remember back when I was a kid that life was so simple.  One of the highlights in my memory is crouching in the dirt and watching through the chicken fence as an old brown hen laid an egg.  I recall her looking at me a time or two and wondering if she was ever going to get done.  I do not recall it being any kind of "bonding moment" with the chicken, but in that few moments we were alone in the universe.  After she laid her egg and left the nest, I picked it up and took it into the house to momma.  While she was pleased that I brought her the egg she was upset that I had bothered the chicken it her egg laying business.

So, now to the crux of the matter.  Looking back I can see the folly of my experience.  First, laying face down in the dirt I was subject to all kinds of bugs and spiders.  Not to mention the fact that snakes also slither around chicken houses looking for prey.  And had the chicken not been engrossed in the act of laying an egg, she could have pecked my eye out!

Living on the farm was a constant learning experience.  The chicken experience was mild compared to the life and death struggle that went on constantly.  I recall the "dead animal wagon" coming to pick up our old Shetland Pony, Star.  Dad had gotten Star back when we lived on the Stroh place.  As I recall that was one of Dad's biggest follies.  He had gone into Hutch to join some of his old cronies for "a drink" and returned many days later with Star in a horse trailer.  That was the meanest damned horse that ever crossed the pike!  As Dad was unloading him he was kicking at the sides of the trailer and when he was finally on the ground, he made it clear that no one was going to set on his back! Or pet him! Or brush him! Or do anything but feed him and stay the hell out of his space!

We moved to the Strong Street house about the time I started second grade and Star died about a year later.  I recall the "dead animal wagon" coming to the house and the man taking a wench line out of the back of the wagon and into the barn.  Mother made us go into the house at that time and let us out as the truck left the yard with a horse leg sticking straight up in the air.  The demise of Star was complete.  He would be made into dog food.  I learned that from my school chums.  "Yes!  Dog food.  And his hooves will be made into glue."  Now how in the hell 7 year old kids knew that was beyond me, but it sounded true enough to me that I spent several nights crying myself to sleep, mourning a horse that was meaner than hell and no one could get near. 

There was a big Mulberry tree in the back yard there and under it I started a cemetery.  Donna squeezed a baby rabbit to death and  I buried it under the tree and put a stick to mark the place.  Dead birds were eulogized as well baby chickens that did not survive.  A mouse made it in also. And then I lost interest.  

Jake went off to the Army and I entered high school.  The days of sand and shovels were behind me.  Time to grow up and plan my future.  I would be a missionary.  I read about Africa and how the natives needed saved and brought into the grace of God.  Reverend Barnett gave me books to read.  I  learned that a lot of them were cannibals!  That kind of scared me, but at 15 years of age the world was my oyster!

And then I went to live with Grandma Haas, who was crippled by a stroke, and Great Grandma Hatfield, who was caring for her.  And the rest is history.

My daddy did not have a gun.

He did not have a gun.  What he did have was a buggy whip and a 2 x4.  My brother tasted both of them.  I did not.  I did live in mortal terror that I would.  I could tell when he was mad or that something was bothering him because he would rub his thumb and fore finger together and talk to himself.  He was a strange man.  He did not seem to have any friends that I knew about.  He had a few acquaintances.  He also had a couple farmers he worked for on occasion.  John Britain and Ed Crissman.  Mostly he just hung out at the local pool hall where the "ne'er do wells"  hung out.  He worked there some afternoons.  He did let me go in there once when nobody was there.  He actually played a game of dominoes with me.  Of course he won.  He always won.  Score was kept on a stick with a series of holes.  Each time one of us made a score the stick was moved forward a  number of holes.  The score was always a multiple of 5, so 10 points was 2 holes  and so on.  I still enjoy playing dominoes, but rarely find anyone who knows how.

I always thought my dad was a very big man, but I think he was 5'10" which is not tall at all.  He had a ruddy complexion and hair with a reddish tint.  I inherited neither of those.  My sisters and brother did, but I was a miniature of my mother.  I had brown hair and hazel eyes that turned to blue or green, depending on my mood.  Dad's skin was light and mine was darker.  I tanned very easily and the sisters burned easily.

My father did not like pets.  We never had a dog and the cat mom kept as a mouser was not allowed in the house.  Mother did have a canary at one time.  It had a cage that hung on an iron post that kept it off the floor.  The cat did come in one time on my watch and made short work of the canary.  Mother was livid.  Seems the bird was the only thing that really gave her pleasure in her mundane world.  She had received it from Grandma Haas.  Not sure mother ever forgave me for that little fiasco.  I do know she never forgot.

Dad never interacted with any of us kids but Mary.  Mary looked a lot like Dad with his rather ruddy complexion and the hair that had an almost red tint, but not quite.  Mary was always delicate.  I do not mean sickly, because I was the sickly one.  I had my tonsils removed when I was 10 or 11 and then became the healthy person I am today.  Donna and Dorothy were bordering on being pudgy, but Mary was just delicate.  There is no other way to put it.  Josephine was the oldest and she was a half sister.  Jake was the son.  I was the oldest daughter born to the union.  Then came Donna, Mary and Dorothy.  That made me the middle child and I lived the "middle child syndrome" my whole life. Still do.  I am not quite happy with anything I do so I try harder.  Just can not do anything completely and revel in success.  I always fall just a little bit short.  You would think after this many years I would give up on that!

Don't know why I got this in my head today, but here it is.  Guess I will go downstairs and do something constructive.

Randy Travis calls this "Pickin' Up Bones."  Just makes me wonder if we ever really escape our childhood?  There are only 2 of us left now.  We live 400 miles apart and visit sporadically if at all, but it is enough to know she is there. And I am here.

Look Paul! I must have stolen a horse!!

My friend, Paul from the other church, has been taking riding lessons for over a year and finally bought a horse.  It is a match made in heaven.  As for me, I have always been afraid of horses.  Have you seen their teeth?  Those things are huge and I do not want to make one of them mad and have it bite me.  I am doing  very well with the cat and 2 dogs that reside with me.  We get along pretty good as long as I keep the groceries coming and the bed warm and the water dish full of fresh H2O.  But something has happened to make me question whether I have perhaps been living alone to long.  I did harvest the grapes and make juice which I drank all of it, but it was not made into wine so it should not affect me at all.

These are my grapes.  I only have one vine left, but they are the dark blue Concord with seeds.  Baby eats them by the handful, bug, bird poop and all so I figured I better get them picked and processed if I wanted them.  Best juice ever and not a drop of sugar in the whole gallon of juice.  If I were a jelly eater, I would have made jelly, but I am not so I just drank it all except what I shared with Baby.

This is my Climbing Cecile Brunner which did not bloom this spring at all.  I was very disappointed, but on a day when I was sad I looked at the bottom of the bush and here was a pretty little rose just for me!

But, now this is what happened the other morning.  I got up and went outside to hop in the mobile and go some where.  I passed this on the way to the car and did a double take.  What!  That looks like horse dodo.  Upon closer inspection it turned out that it was indeed horse leavings on my front lawn.  I was pretty sure I did not have a horse when I went to bed and upon further investigation I could not find one of the big hairy things anywhere on my property.  Not any on the neighbor lady's premises either.  I am very happy that I lock the doors at night, because Lord only knows what might turn up in there if I am not careful.  I do recall in the early years of homesteading out here on the Mesa that I had planted Tulips across the front of the house and I came back from town to find a big cow munching on the.  That was sad to stand and look down in the ground and see spots of yellow, red, and orange which would have one day been tulips.

I also recall coming home one evening about dusk and seeing 3 baby skunks playing on the grass.  My Chile dog used to get sprayed by skunks on a regular basis.  The remedy for skunk spraying is a bath in tomato juice.  After going through 40 quarts of tomato juice one season, I finally talked to the dog groomer and she told me she used Massengill Douche Powder.  That was way better.  Course the druggist looked at me a little strangely when I told him I wanted a pound of the stuff!  I was a tad naïve in those days.

Snakes and foxes, coyotes and chicken hawks.  centipedes and mice.  Always something creepy, crawly, or slimy set to ruin my day.  But I love my little piece of earth out here and I love my little 2400 square foot house.  I guess if strange animals wander in and relieve themselves on my yard, I can live with that.  I am not real fond of cleaning the house or burning the weeds or any of the mundane chores that daily life requires of me, but it is what it is and if this is the worst thing fate can throw me, I can live with that!

OK, Ito, this is our last time.

This was the day Ito would leave me.  I got him a very big carrot at the produce stand.  It was very orange and very fresh!

Look at the little fellow.  He knows I have this for him.

 He learned early how to hold up his left hoof when he is saying please.  He can't talk, you know.

Yes, you little shit.  I am going to miss you , but I told your new owners about how much you like carrots and how you can say please.  And how lonely I will be.

I started this post 2 weeks ago.  And sure enough a big horse trailer pulled into the yard.  A woman who sure appeared to know what horses were all about strolled over and slipped a halter n my Ito.  She led him into the trailer and closed the door.  He managed to look my way and paw the floor of the trailer several times before the truck roared to life and the trailer pulled down the drive and out of sight.   It was over.  I have no idea where he went, but I am sure I will never see him again.  I have to think he will have some one to ride him and  feed him carrots and rub his nose.  I sure hope he does not miss me like I miss him.

Such is the life of a horse.

A sad little horse.

The neighbors have a horse.  It is in a field in front of their house.  It has a shed to stand in and that is about it.  Oh, it gets food and water.  The neighbors on the other side also have a horse.  It has the same life.  The two horses are separated by an offset fence so they do not have any contact.  They just stand there close to their respective fences.  What a life.  Neither one ever gets ridden or taken out of their pen.  I do not know why either neighbor has a horse.  I guess so they have some where to spend any money they happen to have left over.
I taught Ito to say please.  I go out with carrots and he holds up his left front foot.  I give him a carrot and he eats it slowly.  Then he raises his foot again and I give him the other carrot.  It is a game we play, but alas, the game is over.  The neighbors are moving to Castle Rock.  They are actually mostly moved.  Ito is all alone over there.  It is very sad to me to think of him all by himself.  I am sure they will come and do something with him.  I know he will be glad to see them, but ai am sure he will miss his other horse freind and who will give him carrots?  He can't ask for them.  Maybe his new owners will know that horses like carrots.  I sure hope so cause he is really a nice horse.
So I am off to bed, but just wanted to let you know, that my heart is very heavy tonight.
Sleep tight.