Vagabond - part 3: Farmlhand

Vagabond - part 3: Farmhand I stayed after the barn was done. Libby laid out some clothes for me to choose from - they fit me quite adequately. It was a pleasant change to have something clean to wear. I made my bed in the handyman's loft over the stable. Clean sheets on a tick mattress - like heaven after pine needles and assorted small rocks. I decided to bathe in the barn using a bucket of well water and soap given to me for the purpose. It was a bit brisk and I rinsed quickly, then dried myself and dressed for warmth against the evening chill. I slept peacefully for the first time in many long weeks. Morning - a soft, hazy dawn heralded by the rooster's crow. I made the morning rounds of the barnyard, feeding and watering the critters. The cows needed milking so I did that, too. I could smell the bacon and coffee being prepared in the kitchen. Libby was humming and singing a gentle song to herself as she worked - a song I did not recognize. I knocked on the kitchen door and was invited in with my two pails of milk. She had taken time to do up her hair - her blonde tresses softly framed her chiseled features. It was a face that spoke of both joy and sadness and above all hard work. "I need to get a load of cheese into town today," she said. "I kin trade it at the general store for more vittles - bacon and flour." So after breakfast I hitched the horse to the buckboard and loaded it up. She trusted me to watch the farm while she drove to town with her errands. "David," she said, "I kin see in your eyes that you're an honest and trustworthy man." Then she waved goodbye and clicked her tongue at the horse to let him know she was ready to go. I settled in with the obvious chores - much of the farm had deteriorated from unavoidable neglect. I resolved to rectify this as much as was possible with the limited resources to hand. I have never been a moocher, but always paid my own way. I enjoy getting my back into a project and relish the sheer pleasure of the physical activity. I took my shirt off and started in on the depleted woodpile. That, alone, would take most of the day. - to be continued - 3/27/2002 Written March 27th, 2002 © on Mar 27 2002 02:52 AM PST, Heinz Scheuenstuhl    0 • 10