The second time they fought, HayJ managed to pushed down a fence and a gate and make his escape. That morning, at 1 a.m. I’m standing in the road with shawl in hand, nightgown and slippers on my body, and telling HayJ, “go back to the barn NOW you black beast! NOW, I SAY, NOW!” Thank You, God…HayJ listened. I’m not sure how cold it was that morning but would venture a guess of around 40 F above. Cold enough to get my attention but not cold enough to do serious harm.
So…anytime anyone asks what it is I do on the farm I’m, frankly, at a loss for words. How do I tell someone of the adventures, the perils, the misadventures? How do I explain to someone this life is the only one for me, the only one I’ve ever wanted and known so since I was six years old?