I'm a City Girl Dad Gum It!

I am a city girl. Tis true. Beloved knew this when he proposed to me in the front seat of a 66' Chevy Pickup. Come to think of it, I should have gotten a clue considering it was the "farm" truck used to haul everything from feed, to hay, to animals.

I shoulda known.

Don't get me wrong, there is no better place to raise a couple of kids (children not goats, although a farm is perfect for goats too). We never had the bad neighborhood kid to deal with. Loud neighbors? Not a problem! Beloved could crank his stereo without fear of retribution. Children can raise all sorts of interesting farm animals and invite their friends over for air soft wars without the local sheriff showing up to bother anyone. Yes sirree Bubba, a farm is a great place for a family.

Until...

There is work to be done.

I'm just sayin'.

With FIL laid up in Rehab, Beloved and I have found a new hobby. It's called, "Fixin' the Old Man's fence before the cows get out."

Now, doesn't that just sound like too much fun?

FIL in all his wit and wisdom did not purchase hay this year. Or last year, for that matter. In the past, he would purchase ten to twelve TONS of hay, which we would install in the top (yes, top) of the barn. This usually involves a hay elevator (not nearly as much fun as it sounds) and a good couple hours of sweaty, sticky, family fun.

Ahhh the good old days.

These days, FIL would purchase hay from a local grower, drive over in his ancient Toyota pickup, load up Ten to fifteen bales, and unload them into the front feeder (it's so much closer to the house, dontcha know).

Only, FIL is in Rehab...so Beloved went to the grower to get hay. But the grower wasn't there. He went to another local grower. Then another. Then another. No luck. He finally found a grower with third cut alfalfa for $10 per bale.

I know...$10 per bale. That's like two Starbucks! Or half a manicure!

At that price you cannot afford to feed cattle. Not to mention, this is HIGH end feed. This is stuff you feed to show horses! Not big, stinky, cattle. Or at least not our cattle.

So, even though it's a month early, FIL said, "Turn them out into the back pasture. But the fence isn't working..."

Do you see where this is going?

Needless to say we spent all day, okay most of the day...no, now that I think about it, it was pretty much all day, working on the fence. This involves walking uphill, both ways, from our house to the field. It involves four trips to our local farm store because we cannot find things like insulators. It also involved a bloody battle with blackberry vines.

The vines won and I have the bloody wounds to prove it.

And after all that work, the fence works better than it ever has before and I can rest in peace knowing that the cows will not get out into the neighbors pasture and feast on his gloriously green field.

But I just want to say that I did not sign on for this. No where in my marriage vows did it say anything about feeding cows. It also left out the part about herding them through a "lane". I'm pretty sure I missed the part about walking a fence line to clear it, patching a broken fence, or installing a new line of barbed wire. I'm pretty sure I would have caught that.

I'm a city girl!

The worst thing I'm suppose to worry about is breaking a nail when I order Chinese to be delivered.

Note to city dwellers: No one delivers Chinese in the country.

So rest easy my city peeps. The cows are in lock down and all is peaceful here in the country. Do keep in mind though that it's calving season...Mercy!