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Feeding Your Flock From Your Farm
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The Ants Go Marching On
The Farmer’s Wife is sipping away at her coffee (which is a frequent occurrence at this time of day) when her eyes zero in on a certain movement. A small black ant freezes where it stands, sensing it’s mistake. But it’s too late. Whack. The Farmer’s Wife lifts the swatter and investigates the remains. A dozen previously motionless tiny black forms scatter this way and that. Whack. Whack. (x12) The carcasses are shaken off into the garbage and the Farmer’s Wife now begins stage 1:; Know Thine Enemy. She scans, looking this way and that, lifting and moving jars and canisters, pots and pans. Her eyes go to the Cupboard,…
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Beyond the Farm
Beyond the Farm, but still a part of it, there is a woods. And in that woods there is a creek and trees and all the animals who live there (Who and what they are we will never know, because they refuse to introduce themselves. They simply scamper away and hide every time a certain Farmer’s Wife attempts to begin herself, leaving their footsteps as the only clue of who and what they are). The Farmer’s Wife (again) stands on the edge of the creek and looks longingly past. So many potential friends! And they are RIGHT OVER THERE! “What are you doing?” Her Mother shrugs, still looking. “Do you…
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The Pie Class Take Over
The Farmer’s Wife knows a thing or two about making pies (and she should, she’s been making them for ever so long). And others have begun to notice. Why that’s a mighty fine pie some could be heard saying and something along the lines of: Boy, I wish I could make a pie like that. On one particular day, after one particular person said that exact thing, the Farmer’s Wife got a very particular idea. Why, SHE could teach people how to make pies! And that is just what she did. She posted a sign for all to read: Come and lean to make the very best (truly the best)…
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Leftover Grits Made New Again
The Farmer hates Leftovers. He can spy one out a mile away. Soooo, after twenty-six years of this thing called marriage, I’ve learned to be creative. Because, I hate waste (almost) as much. Friday’s roasted chicken gets turned into Sunday’s chicken pot pie. Monday’s hamburgers get turned into Tuesday’s Tacos. And the Farmer has never suspected a thing. Now. Although the Farm is in New York (the state, not the city) we enjoy grits fairly often. Not the quick kind, either. No, we slowly simmer our grits in a bit of milk, salt and pepper, stirring all the while until it thickens and creams itself into something just a bit…
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Jonah McFaddin part 4: The Game
The parents sit one one side of the bleachers and the students on the other. Jonah and the four others on his team run out onto the court bouncing balls on the ground and catching them. Brian and the four others from St. John (they’re the ones in the blue jerseys, in case you wanted to join the Farmer’s Wife in a little cheering-for-the-home-team). Jonah tosses his head to the right and to the left, his golden locks flouncing in the breeze that’s been created by the movement. All the girls squeal. And not just the ones from St. John’s. Oh, no. There are many more than many lined up…
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Jonah McFaddin part 3: The Way It Went
Nothing goes the way it’s supposed to. Jonah is already at his locker when the girls spill inside. His locker is the first in a long line, right inside the door. So. Mae’s excellent spying abilities aren’t needed. AND, as if that were not enough, NADINE steps forward ready and very willing to distract Jonah. Hannah and Polly look at Nadine. They look at each other. And. No. One. Does. A. Thing. Except Brian, who walks in and starts talking to Jonah. The two move toward the locker room. Nadine sighs heavily. Hannah steps forward, ready and more than a little willing to remind all of the PLAN. How it…
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Jonah McFaddin part 2: The Plan
Three girls pile into the back seat with Hannah up front. She quickly turns to face them. “I brought a note to stick in Jonah’s locker.” Hannah waits for their reaction. It doesn’t take long. Three squeals of delight sound from the back, Mae’s being the loudest. “Let me see it!” Hannah hands them the Jonah Folder, in which is a folded piece of paper. Mae reads it out loud, “Jonah- I like your eyes. And your hair. Love, A secret someone. “Now,” Hannah instructs. “We need to watch him to see where his locker is, and once we find out…” The four girls divide the jobs. One is needed…
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Jonah McFaddin Part 1
“What’s going on?” the Farmer’s Wife asks to no-one-in-particular. And it’s a good thing, too, because no one answers. No. They’re much too busy for that. She asks again. And then, finally, she adds a name to her inquiry. “Hannah. What’s going on?” The girl herself looks up at her Mother and shifts, leaving the group of giggling girls who have made themselves into a circle. “Jonah McFaddin, that’s what,” she whispers, like that will mean something to her Mother. But, apparently, it DOES mean something to the seven or so girls encircled just a foot away, because that incessant giggling begins again. In fact, it’s a bit louder than…
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Measuring Time
The seedlings push up through the loose soil, a little more today than yesterday. Now. This is not a guess. It is a known FACT. And how is this, you might ask. Well. That’s simple. They are measured, that’s how. Oh. Just in time. There’s the Farmer’s Wife now, doing her measurements (Just as she does every day at this time, and also at nine and at three). Well, look at that bean–isn’t he just being re-dic-ulous? Yes, I should say he is. Puffing himself out like that–like the Farmer’s Wife won’t notice those types of shenanigans! And those tomatoes–do you see them–bending and swaying with the slightest breeze. Why,…
