We had a calf born just after Christmas last year.  Kent really likes to castrate his bull calves on the 2nd or 3rd day after birth before they get too big for us Mom and Pop farmers to handle.  It never really happens that way, though, and we usually have a big ape of a bull calf before we get to castrate it. Still, hope springs eternal in the small farmer's heart, so we began to try in any way possible to sneak up on that calf to castrate it.  We tried for weeks.  We tried in the day; we tried at night.  

We were convinced it was a bull calf.  It's momma is particularly skittish about her babies, and she wasn't having any part of us getting close to either her or the calf.  Joel, however, got close enough one day that he said, "It's a bull calf!"  And Natalie got close enough one day to say, "I am pretty sure it's a bull calf."

Day after day we tried to get close to the calf.  One night, Tyler and Kent tried to sneak up in the dark and use the calf-catcher that Tyler brought with him.  Didn't work.  We looked at ways to make a homemade calf scooper upper, but they really were beyond what we felt we could finagle.

Finally, I took to feeding hay and calling in the cows.  Kent though the momma would be less intimidated by me.  She was really resistant to coming into the barnyard to eat at all, and he was worried because there wasn't any grass left in the field for her.  It took several days, but finally one day after I fed the hay and walked away, she went in to eat.  Progress!  Hope began to sparkle again.  A few mornings later, just after daylight, I fed hay, and she came in to eat.  I snuck around the barn, and ran to shut the gate.  We had her, her calf, and the other 2 year old heifer in the lot!  So, I called Kent (cell phones have their use!), and he called Billy, and the game was on.

Together we maneuvered the two big cows out and kept the calf in.  The guys tackled the calf, and then I went in to help hold one of the front legs.  Kent laid out the knife and the iodine.  Then he reached down and pulled up her top hind leg and we all gasped.  It wasn't a bull calf at all.  We have a cute little heifer.  And, we have another story in the annals of Fernnook Farm.

On the way to the hay rack tonight a funny thing happened.  Well, actually it happened after visiting the hay rack, but, the point is, it happened.  Kent left for a meeting after dinner, and just as he was going out the door, he turned and said, "I need someone to give hay to the cows."  Well, it just so happens that that particular "someone" is me.  So, I went out to give hay to the cows.  It is really muddy right now.  We have had a lot of rain and snow and freezing and thawing going on around here, and that makes for major mud issues...especially in barnyards.

Today is Tuesday.  Tuesday means a lot of folk come over to our house for dinner, and today's meal had most of the usual crowd attending.  So there were hundreds of kids and dozens of adults both in the house and running around in the yard when I went to the hay rack.  I pulled on my trusty boots, not the ones in the picture above, those were from years gone by, but my nice muck-type boots, and headed out with hopes that I wouldn't get stuck in the mud.  And, I didn't get stuck, but something funny did happen.  It happened because I am so short and the mud is so deep.  I got the hay out of the barn, walked fairly well toward the rack, and then just as I reached it, I sunk in deep.  The top of the rack was over my head, so I had to push and shove and heave to get the hay up and in.  In the process, a load of hay went down my front on both the outside and inside of my shirt.  It was in all the wrong places and immediately began to itch like mad.

I had to go back into the barn to turn off the light, and before turning it out, I had the brilliant idea to take off the offending clothing items and pick out the hay.  Immediate relief!  However, as I was standing there with my top half in the buff, I heard distinct squelching noises come from right outside the barn.  Panic ensued!  I yelled, "Don't come in yet!" and I began to get unbuffed as quickly as possible.  It may have taken me 30 seconds or more to realize that the squelching I was hearing was the poor cows navigating through the deep mud to get to the rack.  What a relief!  My hide was saved, and I can give hay in the future with the knowledge that no one is the wiser to what an old woman looks like who is trying to unhay herself in the barn on a muddy day.  

Chicken Request

The Mayberry Times did it again.  They printed an article that was, well, so oddly written that when I read it aloud to Kent, I laughed until I cried.  And, that was certainly not the intent of the writer nor the newspaper at large.

I challenge you to read this article outloud to someone and not laugh.  Bet you can't.

What makes it especially funny to me is that the Citizen Hannah Barnett that is spoken of is my pastor's wife.   I can't help thinking that perhaps she was in a former life a leader in the French Revolution.  In actuality, they should have called her Citizeness Hannah Barnett.  Perhaps she is the one that was confined to a coup...no getting along with the government for her!  No, a complete takeover is what she must have had in mind when she approached the Mayberry City Council.

Here you go, and remember that laughter is good for the heart and the soul.

Doniphan Council Considers Busy Agenda, Favors Chicken Request

After much deliberation the Doniphan city council came to the Oct. 1 meeting with a unanimous decision to amend the city ordinance to allow chickens. However, this is to be on a trial basis, and comes with a lengthy list of restrictions.

Even so, the zoning and planning commission must first also approve the ordinance change.

The city had heard a request to allow chickens from citizen, Hannah Barnett, at the September meeting.

Having made the decision, Doniphan City Attorney Christopher Miller will take the city’s list and draft a preliminary ordinance that will be presented to the commission. A public hearing will follow, during which residents of the city can have a say.

Miller advised against changing the ordinance, which he said was actually rewritten in part because of an issue with chickens.

It was thought that problem was a complaint because of roosters crowing.

Certainly there will be a limit as to the number of chickens, a ban on roosters, a set-back requirement from the homeowner’s property, and requirements as to confinement to a coup, the structure itself, and sanitation.

Residents who decide to keep chickens also would have to submit to an annual inspection and purchase a permit.

Code violators would be given a specific number of days to comply or be shut down.

That within itself was a huge concession for the council. They were concerned that Brian Byrd, who is both the city’s code enforcement officer and also the fire chief, might not have time to take on another responsibility.

Mayor Dennis Cox said he was not in favor of permitting chickens, stating that it is difficult and time consuming enough for Byrd to have to enforce city habitation ordinances.

Cox also expressed his opinion that, “We already have a problem with dogs and cats being out of control. I am not convinced we need to add another animal that might potentially cause more problems.”

Alderman Denver Jackson was not present at the meeting; however, Alderpersons Riley March, Leslie Netherland and Steve Collins each said they were willing to permit residents to keep chickens, within reasonable guidelines, at least on a trial basis.

“We can always change it back later,” they said.

Collins noted that he polled his neighborhood and out of 11 individuals he asked for an opinion, only two objected.

 

Since we moved to the country in 1991, we have collected a lot of Mayberry stories.  One happened today.  The phone rang, and I checked the caller ID.  It read, "Melvin Nesbitt."  Thought I, "I don't know any Melvin Nesbitt, and I have kids here and am crazy busy, so I will just let the answering maching get it."  But just at the last second it hit me, Melvin, our mailman from our first day here until about a year ago when he retired...I do know him.  So I grabbed up the phone to find that Tollie had already answered it and was bringing me the other extension.

"Laurie", said Mel, "I am delivering packages for (I didn't catch the name) to help them out today." (Aside: Mel just can't hardly stay retired.)  "I am at Hattie's driveway with a package for her, but the gate is locked.  I could leave a note in her mailbox for her to pick it up at the Post Office, but I thought I would check with you first to see if you know the code."

I just learned the code last week (not because they didn't want us to know it, but because they hadn't gotten that part of the gate working until last week), but it had been sent to Kent's phone, not mine.  With a little hard thought, I pulled the number out of my head and told it to Mel.  He delivered the package, and all were happy.  Well, Hattie was a little surprised to see someone coming up her driveway, but she didn't hold it against me, so all is well in Mayberry tonight.

Turkey Stories

This morning Kent and I headed out to pick up our car that had been worked on yesterday.  As we were tooling down the road, just enjoying the fresh air blowing through the windows, we got behind a large tractor.  I think it was a tractor with a hayrake.  When we got to the stop sign at the junction, I gasped and said, "No one is driving that tractor!"  I could see the seat, but there wasn't any head sticking up out over it.  The only thing I could think of was that a VERY short person, like a 5 year old, was driving it.  

Kent looked at me in disbelief and replied, "Laurie, that tractor is on a trailer."  And, well it was!  It was on a trailer and being pulled by a black truck."  

So we giggled a bit.

Then, Kent looked at me again and said, "You know those plants in a little rectangular pot that are on Ashley's back porch?"  (Ashley owns Loma Linda, which is where Kent is a maintenance/grounds keeper).  "You mean those succulents?" I asked.  "Yep," he replied, "Ashley called me over to look at them yesterday." Then it hit me, Kent was probably watering them 3 to 4 times a week, and they only need it once a week at most.  I gasped again.

But, it gets worse....  "You have been watering them too much," I said.  "Yep, way too much.  They are artificial plants!"

Ashley was wondering why the pot was rusting out.  Now she knows.

Now we weren't giggling, we were roaring, and gasping again, but this time for air.

Kent and I clean two houses every other week.  I take my feather duster, because I love feather dusting things.  At Miss Joy's home, I climb on her big poofy sofa (after removing my shoes) and dust the window, curtains, and behind the couch.  Not long after we first started cleaning there, my feather duster lost a part of one of the feathers behind her couch.  The next time her great-grandkids were over they saw that feather and thought it was a snake.  She and I have giggled over that several times over the last couple of years.

(As an aside, and not really part of the story I am really telling, one day I left my feather duster outside her front door.  I put it there when I was finished with it so that I could grab it on my way out.  It was tucked in the corner between a potted plant and her outside wall.  I forgot to grab it, and she saw it the next day and thought a chicken had gotten stuck in there!  We really have giggled over that one.)

But today, I had an opposite experience from Joy's grandchildren.  I was vacuuming at Nikki's house, while she and her mother Kathy, and her son Brooks were sitting in the living room waiting for us to finish so they could pack up and leave for a barrell race down south somewhere.  As I was vacuuming in the corner by the door, I thought I saw an escaped feather.  It kept "blowing" and wouldn't be vacuumed up.  So I bent over to look at it, and said, "Oh, I think it's a worm."  Then Brooks ran over and looked.  He said, "It's a snake."  And, shore 'nuff, it was a little black snake.  Nikki and her mom didn't even get off the couch.  They were cool and clam as a lamb about it.  So, I grabbed a paper towel from the sink, wrapped it around the snake, kind of pinched it, and threw it away.  I hope it doesn't come out and crawl into one of their beds while they are out of town!  I wish I had just moved it outside into the yard, but I was a bit thrown off by the whole experience and didn't think of that until later.

 Life in Mayberry is often hard, sometimes funny, but never dull.

This past week we had our first ever political showdown here in Ripley County.  Lots of candidates that will be competing both in the primary in August and the General Election in November were present.

I picked up a few new Mayberry sayings that I had never heard before.  They all came from some of the six men who are duking it out for Western District Commissioner.

One candidate in describing the various quick fixes that had been done to the courthouse in recent years called them all just, "lipstick and rouge".  What an apt little phrase!

Another one, after hearing the "horrible" condition of the roads mentioned one too many times said, "But that horse has already been beat." (I have heard that before, it was just perfect though when he used it the other night."

Another candidate in discussing the power structure in Ripley County said, "There are a lot of chiefs and very few Indians."

And finally, one said, "Only people that leave Ripley County with one million dollars come back here with 2."  I am not sure exactly what his point was, but I got a kick out of hearing him say it.

 

The various grandkids get to go shopping with me on a somewhat rotational basis.  This past week it was Adeline's turn to go.  She is very much her own little person, and that came through loud and clear in our several conversations throughout the day.

Some years ago I had Kathleen with me and we drove past the purple castle that Doniphan is graced with.  As we gazed at it, I said to Kathleen, "When my ship comes in, how about if we go to Europe and explore all the castles we can find?"  She was thrilled with the idea and our imaginations ran wild.

As Adeline and I drove past the Doniphan Purple Castle yesterday, I tried that same tack with her.  "Adeline, when my ship comes in, wouldn't it be fun to go to England and Ireland and Scotland and Germany and see all the castles that we can!"

Dead silence for about 5 seconds (and 5 seconds can be a lot of silence from a 6 year old).  Then, "Do you mean you and me, Grandma?"  "Yes," I replied.  More seconds of silence followed that little exchange.  Then came this from her, "Well, could you just go and take a lot of pictures?  I don't want to go without dad and mom.  And, I already decided I never want to fly in an airplane."

A bit later we were in the parking lot at Menard's and saw a person with a handicap working there.  I pointed them out to her so that we could talk about how we treat people, no matter who they are.  After about my first or second sentence she said, "Grandma, please stop, I never want to talk about this again."  

Finally, I was putting on a Fernando Ortega CD to listen to, but before the music started, I began singing the first song.  "Grandma, please stop, if I listen to you sing it first, it will ruin it for me."

In a world of innuendos and indirect statments, such honesty is refreshing!

 

Confession--I love a real tree for Christmas.  But, I also love a fake tree that looks really fake.  Fake trees that try to look real are just a little too cheesy for me.  A nice silver tree, especially one that is well-loved and shows it here and there, is just the ticket to brighten up my home for the holidays.

Besides, a silver tree reminds me of my Grandma Lil.  She and Grandpa Ben had one in their apartment on 13th Street in St. Louis.  I don't remember a lot about Grandma Lil and Grandpa Ben, but I remember the silver tree.  I also remember the smell of the shaving soap that Grandpa used, the tile in the bathroom, and the nicely shaped wooden posts of the beds.

Several years ago, I thought of Mom's silver tree that she used to put up in her sunroom, and I dug it out of dad's basement and set it up.  It was an instant hit with the grandkids.  It is different than any they have, plus what isn't cool about a turning color wheel?  Which reminds me of how nice it is NOT to have to put lights on a cedar tree every year.  Taking them off is even worse than putting them on because by the time you take them off the tree is especially prickly.  

Now, I also have another confession.  I don't like to decorate early.  I do like Christmas decorations, but they make me feel a little claustrophobic.  It is always with a sign of relief that I take down the decorations and pack them away.  It is probably partly because we are always having to fit people into our house with a shoehorn anyway, and the tree just eats up quite a large amount of room that could be used for seating at the family dinners.

Anyway, I put decorating off as long as I could this year, but today was the day.  So I rounded up 11 of our 17 grandkids, gave them the box with the tree, and set them to it.  They did a nice job.  The Biggles and Middles helped the Littles as needed.  They always do.  I love them for it.

Afterward, Colyn found some lights and the kids decided to try to brighten up our porch.  That didn't quite work, so they decided to decorate the playhouse.  Not only did they decorate it, but they cleaned the playhouse, and then they cut a little tree down and decorated it too.

Fernnook has gotten quite festive this year with a lighted outdoor tree and gnomes at the boy's place (Ken and KJ's), and a lighted outdoor tree at the Joel Harding home.  Of course dad's house has outside lights, but it faces Highway K, not K-2.  I don't know about further down the road past us, because I haven't been down after dark lately, but now we can add our own dazzle with our lighted tree and playhouse.  

We celebrated the lovely tree and playhouse decorations with cups of hot toto (as Toliver calls it) and marshmallows.