I was two years old in 1953. I was still an only child. Spoiled. The center of attention. It was my last year of being an only child.
I used to go along to the barn. I liked being in the barn. I had to go along to do chores. If both of my parents were in the barn..then that is where I was. Dad made a pen for me to play in, it was made out of straw bales...I loved the kittens..the Banty roosters and hens not so much.
In the winter when it is cold outside it is cozy and warm and aromatic in the barn…wet straw with a slight ammonia smell..fresh cow pies plopping into the gutter…steaming…very odiferous. The smell of silage thawing out.. a little fermented.
The nails in the walls of the barn covered in frost. The hay dust gleaming in the sunlight as the hay is thrown down from the hay mow. The cobwebs hanging in the windows.
The sounds..the cattle munching their ration of grain, shuffling their feet..mooing softly or sometimes not so softly. The swish swish of the milk hitting the bucket..making bubbles on the surface. The sound of milk being poured into the strainer that sat on top of the milk can. The kittens meowing for milk in their dish.
My parents trying to carry milk in buckets while the barn kittens swirled around their legs. Hollering at the Banty’s to leave me alone.
The terror of being pecked by a mean old Banty Rooster that was flapping his wings ninety miles an hour while pecking my legs! Crying..
Walking back to the house.
My boots must have been too large for my little feet. The dogs..I think one was Frosty..and the other was maybe.. Fido? My Maternal Grandparents were always bringing me a dog..cause they knew I liked dogs!
Smiling for the camera:)