These short stories were originally posted on my original blog when I started dabbling in blogging in October 2010.
I hope you enjoy these short fun reads 🙂
Learning to Ride. A Buick Creek Story.
Learning to ride. I remember a time when I longed to try something new. Things haven’t changed much. I remember being around seven years old living on our farm in Buick Creek.
My dad and mom along with the help of their eleven children had pioneered a lot of land up in Northern British Columbia. Since I was the youngest, the baby… I came on the tail end just when they were beginning to enjoy the fruits of their hard labour.
There were advantages in this. One was riding motorbikes or go-carts. This was something when I was 7 years old, I thought I would give anything to be able to try. I knew I could…I thought I’d just never been given a chance. I begged and begged for my brother or sister to teach me, but nothing worked.
Now there was this ‘unwritten rule.’ No one was allowed to ride the motorbike unless they had ‘earned the right’ by carrying their weight’s worth of work duties that were given to each of us children.
The enforcement of said rules were not in the form of parental decrees but rather in THE sisters and brothers ‘code of honour.’ This code proclaimed that “if I had to do all these chores when I was your age…and I’m still doing those and more then if you want the privilege, you need to do the work!” So I asked what I would have to do to get on that two wheeled flying machine and received my answer.
“You need to start getting up early in the morning to milk the cows and once you’ve done that for awhile we’ll show you how to ride.” my siblings said with smug smiles as if watching my future unfold.
After much hesitation, I slowly replied, “Okay, I will.”
My mom was surprised when later that afternoon I told her I wanted to start getting up early to learn to milk the cows. “You want to what? Do you know how early dad gets your brother and sisters up for chores?” Mom said hoping to change my mind.
“I know it’s early I said, but I really want to learn.” I said outwardly earnest and inwardly quaking at the thought of the early hour and new job.
Mom just said “Okay we’ll talk to dad.” At supper table that night mom mentioned my request for a new chore assignment.
“Good. It’s time you learned.” he said and with that note I knew my fate was set. I looked at my older brother and sisters who sat there trying hard not to laugh. I didn’t know what was so funny but it didn’t matter because knew I was ready to ride.
The next morning dad tapped me on the shoulder along with the others.
“Okay, I’m up.” I said rubbing the sand from my sleep-filled eyes. I got dressed quickly, put my rubber boots on and trudged outside following the others to the big red barn. We only had the yard light to see by but we made it to the barn just as the cows were filing into their stalls. Dad and my sister and brother got the milking stools and brought them to their designated cows.
“Chrissie, you teach your sister. You can teach her on the easy milker.” Dad said sitting down by a feisty cow and milking faster than I’d seen anyone do it.
“Watch me and then you try.” my sister said. So I studied my sisters actions but it sure was a lot easier watching her than doing it, as I found out.
“You have to put your hand around the teet, but don’t dig in your fingernails or she’ll kick you a good one.” my sister said, trying to teach me quickly. I put my smaller hands on the cow’s teet and squeezed and pulled like I saw her doing, but only saw a few drops of milk. I tried again and the cow lifted up her leg to try to kick. My sister managed to calm her down. After the bottom of the pail was barely covered with the thick white liquid, my sister took over and finished milking that cow. I knew I had a lot to learn, but at least I’d gotten started. I knew that there would be many days ahead working at this new chore, and I’d figure it out.
That same afternoon when most of the day’s work was done, my brother and sister took me to the ‘bumped and bruised’ 250 Honda motorcycle.
“Now you can learn.” Arthur said as he hung onto the handlebar and motioned for me to get on. The ‘amazing flying machine’ as I had begun to think of it, was much more intimidating up close. The handlebars were up to my chest and as I tried to get on I could barely reach my much shorter arms to the handlebars.
“Don’t worry, I’ll hang on to it.” big brother said as I listened as closely as I could to his explanation of how to shift gears and how to ‘give it gas’ on the handle.
“Okay, I’m ready to try.” I said sweating. Wondering how this was really going to pan out. My feet were six inches from reaching the ground so the odds were that I would fall down at least once on this first time trying alone. I thought, never mind that. I really need to learn. I’d rather try than not try and regret it. So big brother Arthur shoved back the bike stand and I was off. There I was, in first gear, sputtering, wobbling, shaking and finally falling over before I’d gone thirty feet. Thankfully there was no broken bones, only bruises. I remember getting up from that first bike ride and thinking “That was sooo much fun! I’ve got to do that again!” From that day forward, I learned to ride and had fun doing it.
I remembered this story from my youth as I’ve been tackling new ideas and projects. I was reminded that trying something new is like learning to ride…I’d rather try and risk falling down than to never try at all.
here’s to your story,
Lorna
Interrupted by a Bull. A Buick Creek Story.
I wanted to share a story from when I was about 9 years old when I encountered a bull. For real!
It was another normal day. I had just got home with my brother and sister from school, which was almost an hour’s bus ride to the farm. I burst into the house, took off my shoes and jacket and was stopped by Mom at the kitchen. She came to greet us with a kiss on both cheeks. Since it was only late September, the weather was cool but not the biting cold December usually brought us.
“You have that fresh smell on your cheeks.” Mom smiled and waved us off. I carried my books to my room.
“Lorna, it’s time for chores!” Mom called. The sound of another cookie sheet coming out of the oven nudged me forward. That sweet smell of oatmeal raisin cookies greeted me before I reached the kitchen.
“Can I have one cookie?” I begged secretly hoping for more.
“Here. Take two. You’re going to need it for the long walk ahead of you.” Mom said handing me two fresh from the oven cookies. She even poured milk to go with it.
“Thanks mom. You’re the best.” I said loving the special treatment she gave us. You’d think we were kings and queens arriving home from a long journey.
“Once you’re finished eating you need to get on your old clothes and get the cows home from the pasture. Dad wants to start milking the cows a little earlier because of the change in weather.” Mom said handing out snacks to the others. I knew my sister and brother had worse jobs than me…like mucking out the stalls, cleaning out the barn and hauling hay to all the animals. I knew I should be thankful for my job but inside I was fearing that bull. I imagined him waiting for me like a sentry. Watching for me, ready to pounce.
I went back to my room and put on my chore clothes. I really don’t want to go today. I’m scared of the bull.
I went to the porch, put on my rubber boots and grabbed the only farm jacket left. It was a red and black plaid one, a little big, but it would keep me warm.
Walking slowly to the barn I took my time petting the cats and scratching our dog behind the ears. I walked over to the baby lamb and rubbed her furry white nose and gave the mama goat some grass. I went through the fence and passed my brother who was hard at work mucking out stalls. I was a good mile to get to where the cows usually spent their days eating grass.
Following right behind me was our family pet dog, Barney. He loved to help get cows. Sometimes his loud barks would put the fear of God into those poor cows, but it hurried them along. I kept walking close to the fence line so I wouldn’t lose my way since the pasture was encircled with trees. Finally I reached the clearing in the pasture, where the cows were looking quite relaxed. Some were lying down, others were eating. So far, I hadn’t spotted the bull, maybe he wouldn’t be with the cows today. Maybe he took the afternoon off. I know I was hoping.
“Come, Boss.” I called out walking around the cows. I remembered how my dad called the cows and it seemed to work. They were getting up.
“Barney, you circle them from the other side.” I coaxed. I walked and whistled at him again. He ran to me and then seemed to understand because once he started barking all the cows stood up and started walking.
They seemed to know which path led to home. Barney and I were just rounding up the last couple of cows, when I looked beyond them toward the trees.
Just as I feared, coming out from behind the trees was the bull. He looked scarier than I remembered.
It seemed for awhile I couldn’t move. I just watched him walking toward me.
This big, massive, hunchbacked animal with extra-large horns on his extra-large head. He seemed to stare me down. I shuddered inside. When he was about 15 feet away he started pawing at the ground, bucking his head back and forth. His eyes seemed to bore a hole in my head.
Suddenly it was like I was awakened from a deep sleep. I turned around and ran as fast as I could to the fence. I could hear the bull on my heels and Laddie barking at the bull as I raced to the safety fence. I thought if I could just reach the other side of the fence I would be okay.
Scrambling through the 4 wires that reached to the top of the fence line seemed like the tower of Babel to me right then. As I lifted up the upper wire my jacket got caught on the wire, so I quickly shrugged out of it and made it to the other side just in time. The bull, drawn to the red in my jacket, bucked his head against the jacket as I stepped back even further from the fence line. I stood perfectly still watching in horror as he blasted a few holes with his horns in my coat. I started shaking with fear as I pictured my body in place of the jacket, skewered like a shish kabob against the fence pole.
Suddenly, he stopped. Shook his head and snorted as if to remind me that he’d won this round and had not surrendered any ground to his enemy. Then he turned around and walked away. I stood there in total disbelief.
This seemed like a very unbull-like move. He kept walking away until he had made his way back through the trees before I had the courage to move again. Thank you God, he’s moving away.
I slowly made my way through the fence, grabbed my jacket and ran to catch up with the cows. I met them halfway home and remember thinking that I shouldn’t have worn red that day. Mom wouldn’t be happy with the holes in the jacket either. Somehow I knew she wouldn’t mind when she knew the whole story. Who knew that rounding up the cows this day would be interrupted by a bull?
Many times in life it seems like we’ve been interrupted by something that comes up against us and feels like a bull blocking our every move. It’s up to us to use our God-given wisdom to position ourselves to move beyond the interruption and focus on the goal.
Perhaps it’s also wise not to wear red.
here’s to your story,
Lorna
