"Annie can you help unload a few loads of hay?"
"Sure", I answered. I sort of miss it anyway.
I helped unload a few loads of hay. We piled it in a pole barn with no unloader. Just man and woman power. The kids chased after kittens as I tossed hay bales. It's like riding a bike, it all comes back to you.
My eyes started to sting as the sweat was pouring down my face and the guys must have noticed I was on the verge of a heart attack so they decided to take a quick break.
No time to run Annie to the hospital for heat stroke.
While we were chugging down some water, somehow we got talking about teeth, or the lack of them.
You get the best stories on days like this. I love stories, especially ones about things that happened before I was around.
Yesterdays story went something like this, told by an old time farmer who has all his teeth.
"When I was a kid my Dad had a cousin who used to drink alot. He had bad teeth. One day he decided to pull out his bad tooth so he drank a bunch of home made whiskey".
"He went to the barn, got the proper pliers and pulled out the tooth". "After he sobered up, he realized he had pulled out the wrong tooth".
Laughter.
"So, the next day he drank some more and pulled out the right tooth."
We proceeded to finish the hay.
Sometimes you wonder how true these stories are. All these folks are long gone.
Their stories live on.
Thanks to things like "throwing hay".
Talk later,
Annie
1 comment:
Now wait, Anne, we was brandin' calves a few years back and this old feller told us the same story!?? It must be that homemade whiskey, eh? Just like you ...I just love those old timers and sure do miss their story tellin'!
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