Monday, January 22, 2007

The morning chores and other stuff

My husband is coming home today. He stays gone just long enough for me to get into a chores rhythm, then he returns and things are done his way, again. Yes, sharing chores is the optimal method, but with sharing comes sacrifice of rhythm and efficiency. Oh yes, and they aren't necessarily done my way. Except for cleaning the glass from the two cases of canning jars the cats knocked from the top level of the shed, I was finished in record time. Obi had not yet honked his horn to wake us on his way to work.

The cats and dog were fed; the chickens were released and bribed to like me with a bit of corn; the nesting boxes were cleaned and re-hayed; I sloshed through mud and manure deep enough to seep into the tops of my orange boot shoes; Mr. S's calf was bottle fed, his water refreshed, and a scoop of this disgusting milk feed was thrown in his trough (against my better judgement, but he's not my calf so I have to mind); Dusty was given his ration of oats; the heifers, Crip, and the bull were given their morning ration though I thought of cutting them out of the circle since they broke into the hay storage and ruined a good bit of it. All of these things were accomplished with no wasted steps. I had plenty of time to clean the mess left by the canning jars before morning baking.

I'll have to tell this one short tidbit about my apparent country-ness to amuse mull-berry . Last night we heard sirens about 7:30. I and both my children ran to the front porch to see if we could tell what was happening. The fire truck was coming from one of the Neshoba County stations which are about 12 to 15 miles from us and going toward the town. This meant that the fire was substantial and help was called. I picked up the phone and called my parents and brother who live in town to see what was ablaze. Yes, all county people do it, if they don't actually get into their cars and follow the firetruck in case they can be of assistance. A few minutes later more trucks passed, this time turning down the dirt road that separates our farm from the next one. We know this because we all ran to the porch, again. Then trucks came from the town and turned down the road. Apparently, the first truck missed the turn. I called a friend who lives down that road to see if she could see anything. She said her dogs were going crazy. Then she said, "I guess I'll have to get dressed and go see what it is."

I know people in other places don't do this. When I lived in the city, there would have to be action right across the street for anyone to come to the window, much less walk outside. There are just too many sirens to keep up. I, after many years, found that I was becoming immune to the drawing effect of the sirens. Once I moved back here, I immediately returned to my habit. The important thing to remember is that, while a bit of nosiness is involved, when the firetrucks pass your house in the country they are most likely going to someone's house or business that you know. Wanting to know if your friend's house is burning is not nearly as embarrassing as just being a gawker.

8 comments:

mull-berry said...

I totally agree ...it's a lot more personal there. Even when the sirens turn into our neighborhood, we stop to look but don't know who lives there.

Two questions ... (1) What did happen? and (2) What did people do before the telly? : )

zilla said...

Yes, it makes a world of difference when you know your neighbors and your local business people. Even in suburbia, a siren would more often than not go ignored. It's sad, really, that there's so little community spirit, so little neighborliness. I envy you those things.

Miranda said...

Where was the fire?

wisteria said...

I have yet to find out where the fire was. I drove down the dirt road as far as I dared. The roads were getting more and more messy. I passed all the houses of my nearest neighbors (within 5 miles) and the only evidence was the ruts left by the fire engines.

Before the telly everyone just followed the firetrucks. I will go to the hardware store. Ms H or Ms B will know because they know everything.

JoVE said...

I live in a city and when stuff happens on my street we all look. And within a day or so, I know from the neighbours what happened.

I also find out when police come at 3 am because my neighbour got broken into, how many more houses in the neighbourhood got broken into in a 5 day period around that, and when they guys got caught.

In general, I think this is a good thing.

Sister Susan said...

This made me smile.... Once a country girl always a country girl.. yesterday, my oldest called me and said he saw many firetrucks going toward the University Medical center - I heard them from my house - not just one but many... well, of course, I had to ride over there and make sure they didn't need my help :) They didn't. I will say I am "citified" enough that I don't chase just one firetruck anymore - it has to be multiples.

Angela, Mother Crone said...

This is a sad observance of city life, is it not? I have to say, we are fairly lucky to have lived here long enough to know all our immediate neighbors and be friendly with them. But we worked hard to do that.

It think it is more a changing attitude than just city life. When I was a kid living in a city row house, it was like I had ten sets of parents watching me...and we were all always welcome at everyone's house. When I was bored, I would visit with senior neighbors or help young mother. People are just too self-absorbed to be neighborly anymore!

wisteria said...

I can't believe you followed the firetrucks to University. What was wrong?

Angela, I hadn't thought of it being self absorption, but you are on the mark, as usual. Everyone is churning away on his or her individual exercise wheel in his own little world. Jove says it is different in her Canadian city and my sister is chasing firetrucks in Jackson so maybe everyone should move far North or far South. Just joking, though Canada is so nice, albeit cold.