Farm Living

String Too Short to Tie

It was during the time we lived in Bladen that I was awakened to my surroundings and began to recognize a world outside myself.

A few days ago, BBBH was reading one of her Westerns, or perhaps a pot-boiler with a western setting, I'm not sure which, and I was, yes, you guessed it, at the computer.  She made a comment on her reading by way of asking, "Can you imagine living in a soddie?"  Actually I could, for while I never lived in one, I remember visiting people who did.

My father had a cousin, Lester Taylor, who lived on a farm not far from us, perhaps less than twenty miles distant.  Lester had a family, yet I do not recall how many children there were, nor their names.  I do remember a couple of things about the visit. (I don't recall whether or not we visited more than one time.)  The first thing that happened when we got out of the car was that a terrifying and fearsome great grey gander, beak open and squawking like Donald Duck, ran toward me, obviously intent on devouring me, or  at the very least, inflicting serious bodily harm on my person.  I put my puny little four-year old legs into action and tried to flee the monster.  This encouraged the beast to pursue me.  He ultimately nipped the seat of the dratted short pants I wore.  Daddy rescued me, but the terror lived on.

On to the house.  While my recollection may not be totally reliable, I believe the sod house was about half dugout/half above ground.  I am surprised yet to this day that once inside this earthen structure, the home-like nature and furnishings of the place were much like any other house I'd ever seen.

So, yes, I can imagine what it might be like to live in a soddie.  Thank you for asking, Beautiful.