Is this:
a. a hog
b. an old boyfriend
c. my mother-in-law
d. dinner
This is Oreo, the hog from my cousin's farm, and probably the biggest hog I've ever seen. It's as big as a frigging sofa. (My cousin and I came to the conclusion that we are 3rd cousins; with Southern blood coursing through our veins, we're pretty meticulous about lineage and try and sometimes even succeed at placing various cousins in their rightful spot on the family heirarchy, even those who are "removed.") She and her family live in Middletown, Va, home of Rt. 11 potato chips, the best doggone potato chips anywhere, in loads of flavors, created in small batches in a little rundown old building in the middle of nowhere. Delicious!
This is what people who live in the middle of nowhere do for fun. We went creek dunking (wisely, nobody got any pictures of me flailing about on the rope swing, or anything else for that matter), spelunking (preceded by a couple of 11-year-olds clearing brush with machetes), hay-diving, and the boys enjoyed their first drive-in movie, complete with unimaginably bad popcorn.
We also went horseback riding. I haven't been in decades, and I'd forgotten how intimidating it can be to sit high atop a powerful animal who, if she feels like it, can carelessly toss you off and paralyze you for life. While she didn't do that, she did take me through a small patch of woods and saplings, where not only did I nearly lose my right leg when a sapling found its way between my leg and the horse, I also damn near broke my neck when a branch got stuck between my helmet strap and my chin. How the hell does THAT happen? I came out of the woods mostly unharmed, but with a much greater appreciation for people who ride these damn things often.
Now, I'm a suburban gal all the way, so at first, the idea of spending a few days on the farm seemed a little, well, icky. These animals smell, don't they? What's this thing? A tractor? Is that damn rooster really going to wake us all up at 5am? You can imagine my trepidation.
She has horses and the pig, roosters and chickens, a one-horned goat...natural garbage eaters, I found out. We just tossed our uneaten food over over the fence where the animals ate it up. Corn cobs, apple cores, the works. My cousin works very hard tending to her farm and her animals, and while we had a great time and have already decided to return next year, I'm not sure Green Acres is the life for me.
5 comments:
i think it is mike, the califonia kid of yosemite.
Nah, Mike's a good guy. I like him.
But he might not allow my kids to throw food at him, like the pig did.
Welcome back Carey!!!
LOL. Thats a farm? Nah, sounds like a hobby one to me. Cause when I was growing up, feeding the 'pigs' and cows and 2200 chickens was a bit more involved then tossing garbage over the fence. Only way to know for sure is if each of your cousin's animals had first names.
Sounds like you had a grand time.
LOL, Krissy. Well, actually they did all have names. The goat was "Connie."
Granted, it's a smaller farm--15 acres. But ya gotta remember, I'm from the suburbs, so anything with a hill and a barn more or less qualifies as a "farm."
Yeah, I nearly broke a finger on the damn thing. It must've been pretty disturbing to watch.
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