by Shelly Purucker

Created on: April 21, 2009

A run in the field to our favorite stop is just the Old Barn on the Uncle's hilltop. We watch with wonder to the amazing tasks that only a few of the niece's and nephews ask.

Why does this cat cry in her bed? Why is the old dog barking at the cow who is now more hungry since the others ate her chow. Does the rope hang high from the loft with a sigh? Is the fork in the hay to dangerous for play? When does the light shine down on the ground is this a tube or a crown?

We march through the stalls our pride must enthrall, Look over there, a kitten with an old ball. Jump into the saddles we'll pretend we have horses, that takes us onto the land and trots us to camp where the singing is grand.

Return to the barn for it is calling, be it evening or dawn at the first of the hauling. Stock up for the winter, summer is just begun, let loose from the pasture a bed of fine hay. We will tromp though these doors , for it is more work than just just play.

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