If My Life Was In 3rd Person: Work

    Nestled in a little dip of the earth in central Alabama lies acres and acres of tall waving corn stalks that rattled in the breeze, blankets of dusty green dotted with wisp of leftover white cotton, and the protruding spikes of Christmas trees preparing for the holiday season. A lone dirt road wraps around and through each of these but for the majority it was the sole strip past the vast corn field. On such road rattles the old spoked wheels of a horse drawn wagon. Pulled by two great beast and commanded by an old farmer in a checkered button up top and his wife with grey hair in a tight bun. They greeted the old woman dipping apples in hot melted  caramel, the young lady weaving ropes to create folksy decorations with crosses and beads, and the two hispanic men chatting away in their native language on the back of a pickup.

Two white houses with long wrapping porches followed on the old dirt road, the homes of the farmers from which the old dusty farm got its name. On the right large wheels of spun hay laid in such a way that the young kids could explore through its winding maze and directly beside it, on a small strip of grass, roamed large golden roosters and a few hens of which were busy scratching at the chilled earth. But the calm of morning was occasionally interrupted by the call of one of many more animals that could be heard right next door. In six mesh pens under the large tin roof of the barn were guineas, ducklings, chicks, geese, roosters, hens, a rabbit, and Turkeys. A dirt aisle also laid under the roof and separated the cages from the barn. This is where she spent most of her time. The baby chicks were her personal favorite with their small fluffy frames that nestled perfectly into her chest. She had a favorite amongst them too. A little soon-to-be copper rooster affectionately called " Ebola".

   Naturally she couldn't tell the public that all of these animals were being raised to be (as humanely as possible) slaughtered and used for food and other resources, it was afterall a fully functional farm, thus they rarely were given names. When asked for one she would often give people the special privilege of naming the chick she held, a name soon to be forgotten along with the identity of the chick.  When one man offered up the name 'Ebola' though to the unique little chick and she adopted it out of pure humor. Most of the baby roosters had large scarlet crowns, his was more a wad of lumpy swollen flesh that could be elegantly described as a dried up mini Twisler, giving her an easy way to spot him amongst the others.

   She would hold Ebola close as she walked through the barn itself. It was an old, rickety, two story, all wooden shelter probably a good hundred or more years old. It was uneven and dirty but to her the most familiar and comfortable thing. There were 5 stalls, a large tack/ feed room, and an upstairs hay loft. These held goats, more goats, sheep, pigs, and a donkey. Tinkerbell and Jethro were her favorites. Tinkerbell was a big potbelly goat who was heavily pregnant and looked like the young farmhand had fed her the more obnoxious children. Jethro was a massive brown goat with flapping ears and large curled horns. If you could wrestle him away from the door and out without disturbing Tinkerbell too much then one could slip his little blue leash around his neck and go goat skiing down the dirt road. So called for the way one would get dragged by the small but mighty creature all around to different food sources. And last but not least on the outside, two baby calves who were equally appreciated by her due to their calm demeanor. One of which she called ET for his large bulging black eyes.

   This was where she spent her weekends from 6-9. Across the road were the horse rides that plodded along through the day and through the far side door was a view of kids crawling all over hay mountain like ants as the revolutionary war actors camping out in their tents, occasionally firing their muskets. Most of the foot traffic consist from the cotton field were tourist and visitors came back carrying large pumpkin or sunflowers, taking the scenic trail back to the farm from the wagon rides that took them out the the pumpkin fields.  She would out different animals to talk about to the kids and let them put their hands on as eager parents took pictures. Occasionally having to explain that it was a Turkey and in fact not a very large, angry duck....to adults or the difference between a goat and a donkey.