There was the weening of the calves (calfs?) day. I hated country life that day. That day broke my heart. There was constant crying for 24 hours ...
And the calves (calfs?) were not much better.
But the wonderfulness of the isolation fresh air and nature even makes the weening day a tiny blip in my memory.
Yesterday morning, I looked out to see a truck with some sort of tank driving quite rapidly through the neighbor's pasture.
Unsure of what was happening, I stepped outside.
Apparently yesterday was the day the neighbor chose to fertilize his field.
There are no words.
I wish you could momentarily smell what I was greeted with yesterday morning.
I've often heard of chicken litter. And I've even smelled it from a distance.
Nothing could have prepared me for this assault.
I called The King and asked what was happening.
He said he'd smelled it earlier that morning when he left the house and had been expecting my call.
I asked him what exactly comprised "chicken litter".
He informed me that it was chicken poop "and stuff" from the bottom of chicken houses.
Y'all. It was so bad.
I did what any good mother would do, and immediately told The Princess to come outside.
We went back inside and locked the door. My nose was burning.
I smelled a candle. I stuck my face in the side of my cat. I stuck my face in the load of freshly dried towels.
The Princess finally caught her breath and said that it smelled like the worst combination of sweaty feet and poop that she could imagine.
Can you think of a good combination of sweaty feet and poop?
We stayed inside all day and never ventured back out. By the time The King came home it had either gone away or I now have immunity.
Do you think the farming neighbors would find me too city-ish if I asked for a few days notice before the fertilizing begins next time?
I'D LIKE TO SCHEDULE A SMALL VACATION.