Manure

During four summers while in my early teens, I spent time at my Uncle Rod’s farm. My dad drove our trusty Studebaker the 330 miles from Omaha to his brother’s place in southwest Minnesota. We all spent a couple days at the farm, and then the rest of my family—mom, dad, sisters Sandy and Sunny-- returned to our Nebraska home. I was left for a month in the capable, calloused hands of our rural relatives. The episodes that follow are a mix of everyday farm activities and some ways we found to make our own fun. But for me, a city kid, these times were extraordinary. I learned to work hard, and through it all, I bonded permanently with eight of my wonderful cousins. This is basically a fish-out-of-water story, though the fish had a great time, and he didn’t die.