The Ladies Page

COUNTRY ECHOES


| September/October 1967



BRANDON WISCONSIN RR-2 ZIP-53SI9

At about the same time this comes into print I expect to be unusually busy. For the first time in five years our six children, our married-into-the-family children, and four grandchildren should be keeping the place real lively around here. If God is willing that it be thus we will have seventeen people around the table for about a week. In my weaker moments I feel a little shaky in the knees. We haven't all been together at the same time for five years. Right now I am planning how to successfully carry off the project.

It may sound a bit way-out, but I am intending to take refuge in the barn. Our offspring get into endless gab sessions, and monopoly games that threaten to live into the next day. While it may not surprise old threshermen, even one iota, to think of sleeping in the barn, it isn't exactly a modern practice. You see, my husband is a very modern farmer, who when he remodeled his barn, put in an office for efficiency. It is really a rather nice place and most always cool and quiet. So I will be sleeping in modern comfort while all the younger element is burning up the energy I don't possess anymore. I hope to be up with the birds, feeling almost as chipper as they. Last year when most of them were here I envied my husband pulling out at nine thirty or ten o'clock to the quietness of his retreat, while I bedded down on the makeshift bed in the living room. The off spring were a around the dining room table, and we don't even have a door between. Never again, if I can help it. Not as long as the office can hold another single bed.

Yesterday I had the novel experience of showing a teacher and four of her young friends around the farm. The first things they were looking for were the cats. We have only two, and they were out hunting, but one finally came after I called him quiet lustily. Then I think I pulled a boner. We went to see the hogs, and we have had a wet spring, and consequently have they a nice juicy wallow. I appeared that they were making full use of it. They came over to the feeders, dripping with their unappetizing coating. 'Ooh, they are dirty,' said the one little girl with distaste in her voice. 'What do you do with them?' she asked.

'Oh,' I said quite nonchalently, 'they make ham and bacon out of them, and pork chops, and all kinds of good things to eat.'

'Those dirty things?' she asked shuddering. 'I will never eat a piece of ham or bacon again.'