Quote:
Originally Posted by Life-in-Him
JRRJH
Kind of different out here on the Prarie isn't it.
Windchill last night was -25.
Still have our unit in brother's building as we finish work from 23k miles in 10 months last year. Should be back on the anti c-19 road after celebrating ourv 60th anniversary later this month. Gets boring not being on the road.
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It sure is different working on a farm or on the range.
Having grown up working on a diary farm, I was not only used to milking twice a day and cleaning the milking parlor after every milking along with cleaning the barn lot and hauling that "aromatic, black liquid earth" to the back of the pasture after every milking, all while wearing knee high rubber boots. When we visited Uncle Clyde and Aunt Lilly, as my uncle and I left for the pasture to herd the cows to the barn (they already knew we were coming and were ready to head that direction, so it was more "us opening the gates" than actually directing the cow's travel) I put on rubber boots as I knew what was ahead. My "brand new bride" having never even touched a cow's tail, was "woefully unprepared for what she was going to encounter". Wearing her white Keds tennis shoes with pink ankle socks, a gray skirt and a pink blouse, I questioned if she wanted boots and her reply was, "No thanks"...
Anyway, the only way into the milking parlor is to go "the long way around the barn" or "wade through the barn lot"... So, her "introductory path to the milking parlor" completely contaminated her, from the soles of her white Keds to her knees with a few "splashes in other places".... The rest of that afternoon "spiraled downhill, rapidly"...
Needless to say, sitting on a blanket that covered the seat in our car, she was not a happy camper on the way back to my parent's house... It took almost 50 years for her to be able to laugh about that event and as far as I know, she never even went into the back yard of my aunt and uncle's house, not even to the chicken coop.