The COW Story (involving poop)

The sun was setting behind me. The colors blending in with the cloud

of dust from my tires as I speed along the dirt road. I stuck my hand out

of the window making an airplane and letting the wind blow it up and down.
It's harvest time!

All day long there is the sound of machines going in the fields. A fleet of trucks

run along the roads taking wheat, barley, and oats to their rightful places. The

sticky hotness and the itchy cloud of grain dust penetrate the air. It is

definitely miserable. But I love it. I didn't always.

Living on a farm sounds romantic and appeasing. Let me tell you it isn't.

When I was younger I hated the farm with a PASSION. I wanted to live

in a big city full of culture and art. I loved art. However, I was stuck in a town

where the nearest thing that could be called artistic was a cattle brand.

When I applied for college I was required to write an essay addressing

the question of why the college should choose me over other applicants.

I told them a story:

It was a stormy day. Actually, it had been raining for about three days.

Dad hauled my little brother and me out of the house to sort out

some cows that needed to go to auction.

We chased them down the alleyway into the sorting corral.

I grabbed the gate and was using it to push the cows in. All of a sudden I

was on my back as one of the mothering heifers kicked the gate right into my

forehead and sent me flying onto the ground. Let me remind you it

had been raining all week and so, yes, I was covered head (including hair) to

foot in slimy, oozy COW POOP!!!

{image via}

I just laid there stunned; cows running all around me

taking advantage of the open gate. I got slowly up. Waddled over to dad,

holding back my tears asked if I could please go home. "Nope," he said.

" We have to finish the job." So I stayed. Miserable to the bone. Hair

matted to my head with poop. Crusty. Stinky. Wet. And we finished the job.

I told those big college people that I would be that way the rest of my life.

I would stay until the job was done.

And so... in two days I move.

I move to a new town, a new job, and a new life.

I'm starting my student teaching. Starting the beginning of "being cultured."

And you know what I think I'm going to miss the most: home.

I'll be packing now.