When we were kids, pastures surrounded everything, if it wasn’t cropland. We could walk behind the house and come face-to-face with cow or two. We always had quite a few cows, some were for milking and others were for meat.
We dreamed up many forms of entertainment as kids, but it wouldn’t be complete without mentioning the ball games in the pasture. We would all get together with our cousins and play baseball using the dried cow patties as bases. We had to watch out for the fresh ones, of course, and make sure to run around them or jump over them when running the bases. We had a few mishaps along the way but not too many considering how many of us there were. I’m still not sure why we didn’t pick another place for the games and use rocks or something for the bases. I guess it was a lot more interesting this way.
Occasionally a bull would get out of the pasture. When one escaped the fence, it was exciting and all of our eyes peered from the door or window while we watched for it to come running down the road. We knew if we valued our lives to stay indoors while the men rounded him up and mended the fence. Only one time my sister, Scherri, and I were out in the field when the Brahma bull got out of the fence. He was the meanest one we ever had and we were both scared of him. But this is a story for another post.
All of us kids could take pleasure in the least little thing out of the ordinary because nothing much happened on the farm. The thrilling moments offered a great diversion from ordinary life.
We laughed, cried, and generally made the best of all situations.