Sounds from the barnyard
Sunny, 93/73, Change to fair. Mostly mowing and clearing yesterday. The ground is so dry, saplings just bend rather than pull up by their roots. What the brush-hog cant get, I’ll just have to wait for fall when the rains come.
This time of year in the south is a little bit depressing and exciting at the same time. Depressing because the grasses start to die and one hot day draws into another, and the cycle just seems to go on and on. Exciting because its time to start to think about fall planting, and which grasses go where.
When we bought our farm, all of it was abandoned farmland. The problem with abandoned farmland is that after a couple of years here in North Alabama, it turns to brambles pines and poison ivy. Slowly, between the goats and our tractor, we’ve been clearing it. So far, we probably have about 15 of our 60 acres cleared.
Well yesterday, I was clearing on the backside of our 10 acre pasture with Sam the goat dog and my entire herd when I heard thunder off in the distance. Not having rain in a while, I started getting excited. I was even more excited when Sam started cowering under a log (she hates thunder). It eventually got close enough where I thought it might be a good idea to put the equipment away and wait the thing out in the barn.
Sitting up there at the barn with nothing to do, I pulled out my Horner “Old standby” harmonica and started to play. Now, I’m not some great harmonica player or anything. In fact, I really just screech and squawk through songs. I started playing only because I was jealous of other drivers in town having things pressed against their face all the time. I didn’t have a cell phone, and the ol’ harmonica was the next best thing.
While I went through a scale, the dog began to yap and the goats tried to join in. All except billy (my billy goat) who is way to “cool” for such behavior, Billy went to find a spot under the tree and laugh at us. After another scale, I’d about decided we had ourselves a choir. With all due respect to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, I believe we’ll call ourselves the Moron Lab-n-Stable choir.
Well, I started playing, and Sam started howling, and the goats started baaing and we were sounding real bad. I think the good Lord finally had enough and shed some of God’s tears down on our dry land and us. The rain shut us up in a hurry, the goats and the dog were scrambling for shelter, and I couldn’t hear myself think over the noise of the water on the barns tin roof.
The rain lasted about 15 minutes, but you wouldn’t have known it even happened. The ground gobbled the water up as fast as it fell. The sun came out and the humidity went sky high. It felt good though, and I slid the old standby back into my pocket. I looked back at my singers as I headed home from the barn. Hmmm maybe we’ll try this thing again tomorrow.
This time of year in the south is a little bit depressing and exciting at the same time. Depressing because the grasses start to die and one hot day draws into another, and the cycle just seems to go on and on. Exciting because its time to start to think about fall planting, and which grasses go where.
When we bought our farm, all of it was abandoned farmland. The problem with abandoned farmland is that after a couple of years here in North Alabama, it turns to brambles pines and poison ivy. Slowly, between the goats and our tractor, we’ve been clearing it. So far, we probably have about 15 of our 60 acres cleared.
Well yesterday, I was clearing on the backside of our 10 acre pasture with Sam the goat dog and my entire herd when I heard thunder off in the distance. Not having rain in a while, I started getting excited. I was even more excited when Sam started cowering under a log (she hates thunder). It eventually got close enough where I thought it might be a good idea to put the equipment away and wait the thing out in the barn.
Sitting up there at the barn with nothing to do, I pulled out my Horner “Old standby” harmonica and started to play. Now, I’m not some great harmonica player or anything. In fact, I really just screech and squawk through songs. I started playing only because I was jealous of other drivers in town having things pressed against their face all the time. I didn’t have a cell phone, and the ol’ harmonica was the next best thing.
While I went through a scale, the dog began to yap and the goats tried to join in. All except billy (my billy goat) who is way to “cool” for such behavior, Billy went to find a spot under the tree and laugh at us. After another scale, I’d about decided we had ourselves a choir. With all due respect to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, I believe we’ll call ourselves the Moron Lab-n-Stable choir.
Well, I started playing, and Sam started howling, and the goats started baaing and we were sounding real bad. I think the good Lord finally had enough and shed some of God’s tears down on our dry land and us. The rain shut us up in a hurry, the goats and the dog were scrambling for shelter, and I couldn’t hear myself think over the noise of the water on the barns tin roof.
The rain lasted about 15 minutes, but you wouldn’t have known it even happened. The ground gobbled the water up as fast as it fell. The sun came out and the humidity went sky high. It felt good though, and I slid the old standby back into my pocket. I looked back at my singers as I headed home from the barn. Hmmm maybe we’ll try this thing again tomorrow.
posted by Brad Bachelor at 4:33 AM
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