Friday, September 24, 2010


I haven't written a 'Franch' post in a really long time. I just pulled this one out of my mental archives for James, who would sit and listen to 'little girl' stories as long as I can tell them. This one isn't particularly thrilling but you East Coasters will get a laugh out of it. We loved to go over to our friends, the Folkestad's, house. They had horses, sheep, cattle, a pond, and other assorted creatures from time to time (most notably, a friendly raccoon named Cheech). We spent a lot of time over there swimming in questionable places. One place we liked to swim was the 'cow pond.' Yes, we shared a swimming hole with a bunch of bovines. We would fill our rubber boots up with frogs and crawdads, then empty them out before we came home. It was good times, I tell you. The bottom of the pond was very squishy, if I recall correctly. However, the story I told James today was about a cow tank. Their dad put a big, round cow tank out by their back porch. He would fill it up with water and we would have our own personal swimming pool. Many an hour was spent swimming in there, mostly in whatever clothes we happen to have been wearing at the time. (Cut-off shorts, anyone? :) Incidentally, it was the same tank that we would stop at to give the horses a drink. Good for one and all! I also have vague memories of the tank being full of feed corn, which was really fun to play in. And while we are on the subject of things we used to do over at the Folkestads, one time Meg and I were riding horses and we decided to race each other up and down in the silage pit. I remember asking her if that was OK with her dad, and of course she assured me that he didn't care. Needless to say, we got in big trouble when we got home. He was not happy. Which of course reminds me of the time that we got a little crazy with fireworks and gasoline. But that's another story for another time...

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