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Kountry Life Memories

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Dads Monumont----The Log Barn
It was built in the late nineteen thirties with pine logs that an uncle gave Dad, and with the help of some very fine neighbors, as good friends as a man ever had. A hall was put in the middle for wagons, and beside, stalls for horses and mules. On the other was a corn crib and a feed room; overhead was for hay and some tools. To the west of the mules' stalls was for storage; to the east of the cribs, six milk stalls. We spent many hours there with the milking, in the spring, summer, winter, and fall. Every cow had a name, and she knew it. When we called she would come every time, and she'd wait til the cow we'd just finished had gone out, then she'd get into line. Many times I was kicked by a kicker; many times swatted by a cow's tail. Many times I would have to pour the milk out when a cow would step in the milk pail. The cat was always there for a handout from the stream I would squirt through the air. It would be there both nighttime and morning to get what that it thought was its share. Old Charlie, I recall how she'd chase us. It was an adventure when she was around. You'd better have a club when you were near her, or she'd butt you, put you on the ground. Lawrence Biffle once helped with the milking, and Charlie went off toward the pond. Lawrence ran after her, planning to head her. She turned on him and chased him back to the barn. We'd feed the horses and mules at the day's end. 'Put six ears in each trough,' Dad would say. 'And don't forget to put hay in each manger. They have earned it, for they've had a hard day.' They would soon eat the corn off the corn cobs, and the hay, then lay down for the night. Come Sunday we'd be playing in the hay loft with our friends, and we'd have a cob fight. On the west side was parked an old buggy. It was there every year all alone. Mama called it Dad's ten dollar folly. She had ever since he brought it home. He had bought it at the sale for ten dollars. Never used, he called it his antique hack. Finally, forty years later he sold it--for ten dollars, his whole investment back. It's been seventy years now since Dad built it. My, he worked hard everywhere that he went. That log barn will be standing for ages, and we call it our Dad's Monument.

Submitted By: Randall Gray from AR on 2006-05-31

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