ON A FARM.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 230, 28 September 1929, Page 4 (Supplement)

ON A FARM.

NEW ZEALAND LIFE. A SPRJNG MORNING. (By SUSAN E. DASSLEK.) :. As Winnie gulped down her second cup of tea she looked out of the kitchen window to see if the cows were coming over the hill. She wanted to get the porridge made before they arrived at the shed—there was no time after milking before the children went off to school. As she-looked, the sun peeped over the horizon. "Thank God for the sunrise," she thought. If only it would keep on shining and banish' the light frost and give | them a fine day for once. It had been nothing but rain, rain, rain lately, even after a frost. She began to think of a book she had been reading, a book of life on a farm in New Zealand. It had always been fine weather in the book, except for a few spring showers that whipped the colour into the heroine's cheeks and made the damp tendrils of hair cling affectionally to her face. And the- sunrises and sunsets! One would think the sun. never rose and bit in cities, the way. people wrote about their compensating one for the lack of conveniences and comforts in the country. She thought of the beautiful sunsets she had seen in Napier and Auckland, and came.to the conclusion that the townspeople had the surprises and- sunsets and. the comforts and conveniences. . Oh. well—she made, the porridge just in time, and passed through the garden on her way to the shed. "Thank God for a garden!" The garden was there, certainly, though there was little enough in it. , A few straggly violets —there would have been more if one of the eows had. not got" in and .trampled on the, plants. There ' would have been daffodils out, too, if the fowls had not picked off the buds' with their relentless, self-seeking little beaks. There should have been three long.rows of potatoes, too, in,that warm corner, but the pigs had rooted them out almost as soon as they were planted. Oh, well, cows and fowls and pigs had their uses, too. Filthy Yai'ds. She reached the yard, and hesitated before stepping into it. It was almost knee deep after the winter's rain. Squelch! One, foot was in. The first step was always the worst. One little shuddering gasp, and the other foot was in, too. After that it .didn't seem to matter. It was warm in the shed and the smell of the new milk made her feel sick. It always did in the mornings. The people in that book always drank a cup of warm milk all. round, fresh from the cow. Ough! As well offer her a .cup of castor oil; The stench from the cow's breath was nauseating, too. Yet in the book they spoke of the "sweet-smelling breath of the cows." "They must have been fed on violets," thought Winnie, "certainly not on turnips and top-dressed pastures." Soon she had finished milking her ten cows and Jack his twelve, She would run over to the house to get some hot water- to warm up the separator, see if the children were up and dressed, put some wood on the fire, and give the baby a bottle. She found .the sun, had, retired beh'jnd a cioud, arid a soft .driz.zle was falling, turning the frost into' cold, slippery mud. Hastily she washed her hands and went inside. The childreu were up, and girlie had cut her finger trying to slice up some bacon. The baby was crying, and the two boys were fighting over their socks and garters. She soothed and attended to them all and went back to the shed. - Calvea and Pigs. The separating finished, she left Jack to feed the remaining calves and pigs while she got the children off to : school. It. was . raining steadily now, but she turned aside as tie mail car flashed past and a paper was flung out at the gate. She must get the paper before lit got wet through and before she changed her wet things. Thank God for a newspaper anyway! In that respect at least they were hieky—to have a daily mail car running past file gate with papers aboard. To think they lived so far in the baekblocks, yet had a daily paper to keep/them up-to-date. The metalled road did that. Another hasty wash, and she was bustling with the breakfast. The table was set, if it could be called "set." The cloth was awry, with a spot or two of blood ori it from the girlie's finger, and the things looked as if they had been thrown at .the , table and landed just anywhere. The floor had not been swept, but she couldn't do that now with.food on the table—no time before school anyway. By the time the children had eaten their porridge, their bacon and eggs were ready and their lunches cut. Soon they were off, and Winnie turned her attention to herself. Off came her wet boots and stockings and she washed her feet in lovely hot water before putting on dry woolen stockings and slippers. Off came her old milking dress, to be replaced by a warm house dress. ; Quickly she removed the dirty dishes, set the table in order, and soon had bacon and toast and eggs ready for herself and Jack. The baby had gone to sleep with his bottle, the fire was a glowing mass of coals, and there was plenty of wood handy. Now for five minutes with the newspaper before Jack claimed it for his five minutes, which meant twenty at least. For this is when the milkers relax a little—at breakfast time. The rain came down more heavily. Let it rain! Thank God for warm slippers and dry stockings, a roaring fire, a good breakfast, and the health to enjoy them! .