Currently we are staying with the Insurance Man's parents in Burns for the week-end. In reading through Mom's Christmas letters I found one that was so special I wanted to share it...especially with Julie and the boys.
The letter was from a home-schooling family of four children, and this particular letter was from Seth, their 10-year old son. I hope it brings a smile to your face, as it did ours.
In the year of our Lord 2009, in the 11th and 12th months, the steers (formerly bulls) and the heifers are fed hay (dried grass tied into bales) in the White Barn (our big barn). In this activity (the feeding of course) I participate. First I absolutely MUST climb the ladder (preposterous, isn't it) that, eventually, with much nerve wracking climbing, leads to the loft. Why, you ask? It is really quite astounding but true- the loft is where we keep the hay. Shocking but true. Next you throw the required amount of hay (seven to ten bales) through the hole in the floor. That is because the bovine critters couldn't take the tedious climb up the ladder to the hay (too much of a mental and physical strain. And they would get too tough.) After I take part in the activity just described, I descend the ladder. At my arrival I find a mountainous mountain of hay bales (unbelievable!) Then I carry the bales (two-tons each) to their assigned space (each between two-different pillars), setting them down with a stone-splitting CRASH! The bovine beasties flock to the spaces with the great masses of dried grass. Then I remove from my pocket my razor-sharp cutting device, and after opening it, I slice the strings that hold the lawn-clippings in a bale. I jerk the strings off of the bale and then spread it thoughout it's space. Then I repeat the process ten more times (exhausting!)
Merry Christmas from the cows in the barn and Seth!"
I think he may be preparing for life as a very descriptive fiction writer : ) Jennie