Book Excerpt: Give Me a Home Where the Dairy Cows Roam (Spring
Cleaning)
>From the book: Give Me a Home Where the Dairy Cows Roam (trade
paperback; Sept. 2004) LeAnn R. Ralph http://ruralroute2.com
Chapter 3: Spring Cleaning
When I reached the top of the driveway after getting off the
school bus one April afternoon, I couldn't help but wonder why
Dad was standing on the stepladder next to the tractor.
I had never seen my father use a stepladder to fix a tractor. He
didn't have to climb on anything to reach the engine. I also
knew he wasn't filling the tractor with gasoline. The 460
Farmall was too far away from the gas barrel underneath the
silver maple tree by the garage, so the hose wouldn't reach that
far.
"What's Dad doing Needles?" I asked.
Our dog, Needles, had come to meet me, his tail going in
circles. Needles was a Cocker-Spaniel mix we had gotten when he
was a tiny cream-colored puppy with wavy hair on his ears.
Within the first week, he had nipped my sister's ankles while
she was hanging clothes outside to dry. She had exclaimed, "Get
those needles out of here!" And the name had stuck. As Needles
grew older, his color had darkened to light caramel.
At the sound of the word, 'Dad,' Needles' ears perked up, and
his round, dark-brown eyes stared at me with sharpened
intensity. Needles was Dad's 'hired man.' That's what Dad said,
anyway. When my father worked in the field, the dog would either
trot behind the tractor or, on warmer days, would find some
shade at the end of the field where he could keep an eye on
things. When we milked cows, he stayed in the barn, sometimes
nudging aside the cats so he could drink some milk from their
dish. And when Dad went on an errand with the pickup truck,
Needles often rode with him.
"What's Dad doing?" I repeated. "Go find Dad, Needles."
The dog, his feathery tail still wagging, spun around and took
off toward the machine shed.
I stood for a minute, listening to the redwing blackbirds
singing in the marsh below our driveway