Farm Life

Midwestern Farm, 1938

Farm life on the midwestern prairie was rough in the thirties.  This single picture conveys a lot about the hardships of Nebraska farm life.

Take a look at that massive pile of chopped wood, but also notice the background.   See any trees?   Hmmm, is this cause-and-affect or another mystery?

I wonder how long that pile of neatly-stacked wood lasted assuming that was their only source of heat.  Probably not a lifetime supply, so where would the next pile of wood come from?  Maybe they knew something about global warming and didn’t worry about it.

I love the fancy border around this old photo, gives it a lot of character.  So does the writing on the back, naming my two uncles and their dog, Pootsie.   Pootsie?  Seriously?   Pootsie doesn’t sound like a rough-and-tumble farm dog.  Sounds more like an ankle-biting Chihuahua carried around in some Diva’s purse!  Every dog I remember at Grandpa’s farm was named “Rex”.   He was always big enough to look me right in the eye, owned the farmyard and shared it with no one, had a deep low voice and was very smart … he could speak his own name every time you came down the lane,  “rrrrRex!   rrrr,Rex!  Rex !  Rex!   Rex!”   He wagged his tail a lot, pretending to like you, but that was just to get close enough to bite your head off.

I loved going to the farm.

Thought for the Day:  If you get to thinkin’ you’re a person of influence, try orderin’ someone else’s dog around.    Old Farmer’s Advice