Farm Sunday

Mimi and Ellie, two peas in a pod...

Today I went for a very short slap dash visit out to the farm. It was the equal opposite Fall day from yesterday; cool, dry, sunny with a nice light breeze.

The girls got out Sugar Boy for a quick spin. Usually they jockey for position in taking turns riding Sugar, but today to the Victor went the spoils and that Victor was Ellie! You go girl!
She took a couple of spills a while back and cooled off on her horse riding. Her interests veered off into pellet gun shooting and various other kid weapons, which is good and "a part of this complete childhood". But we are all pleased to see her back in the correct unsaddled bareback position! Hooray! You know "Those ol' Sorry Pearson's" eschew saddles and other frivolous horse accoutrements. You don't need none of that.
Both girls are confident competent horsewomen, as one would expect. Ellie is in many ways more like me; gentle, quiet (sometimes) and patient while Cassie is just like Brandi...but more so(if it can be imagined); fearless, busy, restless, forceful. To say that Brandi bends things to her will is a bit of an understatement.
Once while watching her "persuade" her steed one uncle said of the uncooperative horse (I think it was Charger) "uh oh, that's his ass". Boy how!
We did not "learn" how to ride but took the same approach as with all our other talents, we did it "intuitively". You pretty much just stay on and when you learn horse body language it all comes together. It was easy.
Here is Ellie with her badge of honor; Ring Around the Butt. It's proof of one's saddle free coolness, showing off your horsewoman chops. It's also a sure sign that you've done at least one truly joyful thing today.

Dad tolerates me bringing Roxi out to the Farm even though she disrupts his cats. Thanks Dad! It seems cruel to go out there and leave a dog here in town, she loves it out there and is always so tired when we get home that I have to drag her out of the car she's so whooped.

When she and her Brother Angus get together, their intelligence drops off a bit. They're just having fun! I call them Dumb and Dumber.

When they are ten will they still carry on like this?

While the girls were with Sugar, the grown ups were on the porch and the dogs were frolicking I wandered around hunting for pictures.

Here is the first pump house of three on the Farm. It's cinder block with a deteriorating roof which you can see out of here...

When I was little I liked going inside to bask in the unusual sensation of being in a tiny building that was just my size. It's so cute!

It reminded me of the feeling I got whenever I visited the Grandparent Pearsons in Columbus and walked into the 1950s playhouse my granddad built for my Aunt Charme. He is an engineer and an architect and he built her the cutest miniature playhouse complete with tiny staircase leading up to a sort of attic/loft! Going in was a time warp for all the senses. If I ever smell that aroma again it will probably make me cry, the way remembered smells can do.

There was an old tiny piano that sounded as high pitched as it was undersized; I can still remember tickling the ivories whenever I entered! If there is anything at all that makes noise kids have to bang on it, it's a law of nature. There were mini dishes and even a real sink, a wee stainless steel thing. Everything you needed to play house was there. Oh and I just remembered one of the best parts-a porch light by the front door that really worked! That reminds me there was also an attic light that came on with a tug of the pull string. Those details made it very special; those were the kinds of things most people would have left out, but Wilbur Buckner Pearson knows what's good!

Oh how I wish I had a picture of it. If I could go anywhere in the Universe right now, it would be then and there, just for a minute. Just to smell that musty smell, hear the way sounds echoed in those close walls and look out the dusty kitchen window. I would turn on the porch light, play a quick "Mary Had A Little Lamb" on the piano and climb up those diminutive stairs to pull the light cord on and off, on and off while Granddad whistled a tune outside watering his palms.

I could always go back inside if it got too hot and marvel at all the cool tiny kitchen gadgets in a kitchen drawer or sit at Grandmother Pearson's vanity and clip her vintage costume jewelry to my ears and anywhere else on my clothes or hair.

Another favorite of visits there had to be enjoyed during the quiet privacy of grown up Nap time. I loved to tip toe into the living room and carefully, slowly pull open the door on the replica of Napoleon's carriage Granddad made. It was forbidden, but I could not resist my compulsion to open that doorway into the enchanted miniature environment he had created. Inside were richly upholstered button tucked velvet seats! The whole thing was no more than perhaps 10" high.

Their house was enchanted and seemed to permanently exist in the 50s, which made it an even better treat.

Now hopefully I can drift off into the dreaming world, become the dreamer and walk around in that time and space that lives in my mind. I can feel all the textures, inhale all the aromas, hear all the hypnotic sounds (old ceiling fan in Dad and Wilbur's room) and become infused in all the sensory delights of Military Rd.