I quickly changed out of my school clothes and put on my comfortable barn sweat shirt and pants. I then pulled on my winter coat and boots and headed out to the barn. We had just received a new dumping of fresh snow so as I walked I zigzagged looking behind me now and then to check out the trail I was leaving in my wake. Snow was magical when I was a kid. I just couldn't understand why it sent my mother into such a state of worrying. I called greetings to my horses who seemed to be enjoying the snow as much as I was. My old horse Devon found the largest drift he could and quickly sank down into it! You could almost see him smiling as he rolled back and forth, all four hooves flailing in the air, then his grunting as he tried to get himself free of the snow drift. He then sprung free of it with a big buck and with tail lifted he cantered over to the fence to see me as if to ask "Are you coming to play too?" I gave him a big pat and went into the barn. I grabbed the wire egg basket and a big stick that sat outside the henhouse, and then proceded to go feed the chickens and gather the eggs. Why the stick? Well, you see, Sir Henry ( the rooster) awaited some poor unsuspecting humans arrival within his domain of chickens. He was a mean brute. He'd wait until you had your back turned and then he'd come at your legs, neck stretched out, wings spread wide and the meanest looking eyes that seemed to glow with the depths of Hell right in them! I'd have to keep one eye on him and one eye on the eggs I was gathering so as not to break any. Quickly I escaped with a full basket of eggs and all skin intact. I grabbed the wheel barrel and pitch fork next. In the distance I could hear my Dad firing up the tractor readying it to blow the snow as well as my tracks, from the driveway. I emmersed myself with the chore of mucking out the horse stalls, removing the horse manure and bedding the stall down with fresh, knee deep straw. This would be the worst job in the world for some, but it gave me time to think of the days events and helped me relax while everything I loved about life surrounded me. The barn cats meowed at my feet, wanting their supper next, but first I had to dump my manure ladden down wheel barrow. The barn door was closed to try and keep the cold winter day out, so being somewhat lazy as all kids are, I grabbed the wheelbarrel handels and gave it a mighty shove against the barn door. That way I wouldn't have to stop and prop the door open. I could hear Dad on the tractor blowing the snow but I was concentrating so much on keeping the wheelbarrel upright without loosing any meadow muffins that I didn't look up to see what he was doing. Suddenly I was being attacked with a wall of pummeling white. It persistently hit my face so I was instantly blinded! I completly forgot my careful handling of the wheelbarrel and threw it aside, meadow muffins flying askew! My hands came over my face in instant defense mode trying to fend off my attacker! Suddenly all went quiet. I peeked out from behind my gloved snowy fingers, waiting for the next assault but all that greeted my eyes was my Dad trying to stay seated on the tractor because he was laughing so hard and slapping his knee that he almost fell off. "Gotchya again!" He hollered over the engine of the tractor and he proceeded on down the lane taking aim at the horses as he passed their paddocks, I'm sure he was chuckling all the way. I just didn't see the humor in it all as I wiped the snow from every oriface of my face and proceeded to refill my wheelbarrel with spilt meadow muffins. Once refilled I muttered paybacks all the way to the manure pile.
Today I think of these past memories and how much I miss them happening. Mom and Dad's farm hold many for me. Memories only a farm, its animals and great parents can give you.