My leukemia's back.

Wet dog...not THATS a smell I can do without. Old hound
doesn't smell real good when he's dry. Wet...he stinks.

Spooks taste in music...he's an old man, likes old music.
County...George Jones, Conway Twitty...that era. Been to see
many of them live, back in the day.

Mainly...big band dance music. Barb and I danced, time to time.
And when we danced, I wanted to hold her in my arms. Learned
to dance in school, we did. Then years later, someone started a
dance club in the area for us old people. Had to learn again. SLOW
dance...some of those people were OLD.

I miss that already...the dance. Just holding her. Like others, I don't
like a heavy perfume smell. But I loved the way her hair smelled, felt,
shined. Spook was in love with her long hair.

Grew up on a 100 acres. People called it a farm...I thought it was my
playground. Bordered other farms...just a big playground. Complete
with three (working) barns. Teenage Spook used to love to hang out
in the hayloft of the cattle barn, read a book, drink a soda. Listen to
the cattle. Spent a lot of time on an uncle's dairy farm. Even know
how to milk a cow, Spook does. Churn butter. Lots of farmy things.

Didn't have a horse, so we did the next best thing. Steal the neighbors
horse and ride. Horse got so he wouldn't come down in the valley
pasture. (down in the valley, we could catch him and the neighbor
couldn't see us.)

Next farm over raised sheep...lots of that here. Sheep. Goats weren't
near as fun.

My dads uncle, he raised guineas...noisy birds. Could NOT sneak
up on them. Between the guineas and his dogs, you couldn't even
get close before Uncle Tom knew you were there. After I grew up a
bit, I knew why....Uncle Tom had himself a moonshine still, and that
was his watchdogs. Had me a taste of that stuff a time or two...makes
a Spook walk funny.

(Spooks don't drink...we leak a lot.)

Years ago, Spook was just a county kid...did all those normal things.
Stealing watermelons, gluing mailboxes shut...just being a boy.

Tried living in a big city a time or two. Not my life. No trees. No hills.
No fun. No Spook.


***My Dad, he was a great guy. He grew up hard...coal camp poor.
So he gave us everthing he could. He bought us a dirtbike when I
was about ten years old. BUT...they were dangerous. So he wouldn't
buy us any gas. We pushed that bike up a hill so we could coast down.
Had that bike for years. Never heard it actually run more than a time
or two.

My Dad, he was way smarter than me...I grew up and bought myself
one of those motorcycles....with gas. Old Honda road bike. And
proceeded to crash it. Woman pulled out in front of me, I laid the
bike down. And Spook learned not to ride motorcycles anymore.
Honestly, wife didn't want me to have one. Always told her I was
going to get one with two sidecars on it...one for her, one for Hana.

Spook misses a lot of things these days.
 
Last edited:
I really don't know who that is.....
idunno.gif

My music taste runs from Tommy James....Duanne Eddy.... To Drowning Pool..... Sometimes I like my music Rip your head off hard........ Sometimes I want it calm (heady,)..... I do like the old school country...... But not anything newer....
No......
lau.gif

......
hmm.png

No....
th.gif

Not I..... I've seen the litter box.... ...
sickbyc.gif
Phil! We're talking about country cats here!!!

Wet dog...not THATS a smell I can do without. Old hound
doesn't smell real good when he's dry. Wet...he stinks.

Spooks taste in music...he's an old man, likes old music.
County...George Jones, Conway Twitty...that era. Been to see
many of them live, back in the day.

Mainly...big band dance music. Barb and I danced, time to time.
And when we danced, I wanted to hold her in my arms. Learned
to dance in school, we did. Then years later, someone started a
dance club in the area for us old people. Had to learn again. SLOW
dance...some of those people were OLD.

I miss that already...the dance. Just holding her. Like others, I don't
like a heavy perfume smell. But I loved the way her hair smelled, felt,
shined. Spook was in love with her long hair.

Grew up on a 100 acres. People called it a farm...I thought it was my
playground. Bordered other farms...just a big playground. Complete
with three (working) barns. Teenage Spook used to love to hang out
in the hayloft of the cattle barn, read a book, drink a soda. Listen to
the cattle. Spent a lot of time on an uncle's dairy farm. Even know
how to milk a cow, Spook does. Churn butter. Lots of farmy things.

Didn't have a horse, so we did the next best thing. Steal the neighbors
horse and ride. Horse got so he wouldn't come down in the valley
pasture. (down in the valley, we could catch him and the neighbor
couldn't see us.)

Next farm over raised sheep...lots of that here. Sheep. Goats weren't
near as fun.

My dads uncle, he raised guineas...noisy birds. Could NOT sneak
up on them. Between the guineas and his dogs, you couldn't even
get close before Uncle Tom knew you were there. After I grew up a
bit, I knew why....Uncle Tom had himself a moonshine still, and that
was his watchdogs. Had me a taste of that stuff a time or two...makes
a Spook walk funny.

(Spooks don't drink...we leak a lot.)

Years ago, Spook was just a county kid...did all those normal things.
Stealing watermelons, gluing mailboxes shut...just being a boy.

Tried living in a big city a time or two. Not my life. No trees. No hills.
No fun. No Spook.


***My Dad, he was a great guy. He grew up hard...coal camp poor.
So he gave us everthing he could. He bought us a dirtbike when I
was about ten years old. BUT...they were dangerous. So he wouldn't
buy us any gas. We pushed that bike up a hill so we could coast down.
Had that bike for years. Never heard it actually run more than a time
or two.

My Dad, he was way smarter than me...I grew up and bought myself
one of those motorcycles....with gas. Old Honda road bike. And
proceeded to crash it. Woman pulled out in front of me, I laid the
bike down. And Spook learned not to ride motorcycles anymore.
Honestly, wife didn't want me to have one. Always told her I was
going to get one with two sidecars on it...one for her, one for Hana.

Spook misses a lot of things these days.
hugs.gif
 
And yes...Spook's been skunked before. Twice, on account of
he's a bit slowing learning sometimes.

Advice? Skunks are pretty to look at. Don't try to catch it. They
don't like it.

More advice? Even little skunks are skunks.
 
Grew up on a grain farm, dad brought home baby skunks several different times. Made pets out of them. Played with them like kittens. They were not ever descented. Remember the 3 legged mama cat catching birds in the hay now for her newest batch of kittens. Sneaking out to the chicken coop after dark to catch the white Leghorns my grandparents had. When I got older mom would hold the chicken so I could cut it's throat to bleed into a glass jar for grandpa. He would make breakfast blood sausages with it. Grew our own pork. Loved the smell of the old smoke house. Hams hanging. Playing with the casing for the sausages, turning the handle for grinding the pork. Playing with the air sacks of the "red horse sucker aka carp" we caught in the river in the spring time. Or "sun fish" and "crappie" in the lake in the summer time. Learned to drive 2 tractors before the car.
 
A little gardening (sorta) story from my past.....way back before Noah built the ark....I posted this in another thread a couple of years ago.



Don't forget stealing green apples and eating them with salt until we got sick!! Oh, but we thought we were clever! Grab a big brown grocery bag - the ones we had always had said, "Shop at Sunshine" - and the old Tupperware salt shaker off the stove top. Then wait until it was dark and let the mahem begin!! The apples had to be the right size - too small and there wasn't enough salt in the universe to make them palatable, and sometimes fences would give us a little grief.

I remember once when Old Man Van der Linde flipped on his porch light and yelled, "You little Ba****ds get the hell out of that tree!" We all split, but I went the wrong way. I didn't see the little wire fence he had around his garden, hooked my foot in it, and went down flat on my face in the cabbage! Oh, I thought I was gonna die...I just knew he was coming after me with a meat cleaver, because that's what all the older kids said he did to apple swipers. There I lay, all alone, face planted into a smelly cabbage plant, just waiting for death, snot and tears running down my face. I was too scared to get up and run. I kept telling my feet to move, but they weren't listening. Where were my co-conspirators? How could they let me die like this? Would my sister tell Ma where I was so she could claim my little body?

Suddenly he was there - right there. Old Man Van der Linde, the evil child killer of South Dakota. "Got yerself inta a bind there, didn't ya Diane?"

"Um, yessir, I guess I did."
"I should just leave ya there for the cabbage worms to eat." Worms?? Oh, Lordy, help me!!

Then just as gently as could be, he helped me up. He wiped my face off with the corner of his t-shirt, extricated my tennis shoe from the fence where it was stuck with my foot no longer inside, and swatted me on my backside. "Now git yer a** on home!'

He didn't have to tell me twice. But as I ran off, sneaker in hand, I turned back to him. "Are you gonna tell my dad?"

He thought for a second and then he said, "Nope." Oh, whew!! And he continued, "You are."

Now I'd like to say that I never swiped another green apple, but I'd be lying. I did, however, learn to watch for short little fences. And I did learn that Old Man Van der Linde didn't kill little kids. Nope, he left that for their fathers!
 
Phil!  We're talking about country cats here!!!

:hugs

My cats live in the country.... Spend most of their time outside... Got litter boxes though..... Your talking barn cats.... No farm here? Sorry....50 shades....:)

Grew up on a grain farm, dad brought home baby skunks several different times. Made pets out of them. Played with them like kittens. They were not ever descented. Remember the 3 legged mama cat catching birds in the hay now for her newest batch of kittens. Sneaking out to the chicken coop after dark to catch the white Leghorns my grandparents had. When I got older mom would hold the chicken so I could cut it's throat to bleed into a glass jar for grandpa. He would make breakfast blood sausages with it. Grew our own pork. Loved the smell of the old smoke house. Hams hanging. Playing with the casing for the sausages, turning the handle for grinding the pork. Playing with the air sacks of the "red horse sucker aka carp" we caught in the river in the spring time. Or "sun fish" and "crappie" in the lake in the summer time. Learned to drive 2 tractors before the car.


:frow
 
Good morning everyone!

Loved reading the farm and country memories
love.gif


We're getting rid of most our stuff and in the process of moving to WY. I was sitting on the porch just now thinking...it's not the "stuff", it's the memories we take with us. And the memories are with us no matter where we are.

You all have a wonderful day!
 

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