Foolish Choices
foolish choices
CHAPTER ONE
I was ready to burst out bawling. Here I was, holding a pitch fork, standing in a pile of horse manure. Things had gotten completely out of hand. All I wanted to do was to live a quiet country life and now here I was up to my ankles in poop. Who did I think I was? Laura Ingalls Wilder?
I bought a farm in the hills of southeastern Ohio. It sounded like the idyllic life. Then, reality set in. The cows needed milking, eggs had to be gathered, horses needed grooming and they all had to be fed, not to mention the glories of cleaning up animal feces. I thought I could do it all, but apparently, I had bitten off more than I could chew. I guessed I’d have to swallow my pride and hire some help or I’d go crazy.
I wanted to get as far away from my family as possible, so when the opportunity came to buy this property, I jumped on it. After my parents passed away, my siblings and I had become estranged and my daughter was driving me crazy. At nearly thirty years old, she was still behaving like a college kid. Always partying and getting into trouble. The only time that she ever got in touch with me was when she needed money. And of course, she blamed me for the divorce; it was my fault that Danny stole money from me in order to support his drug habit.
I left the city without telling a soul; after all, I had nothing holding me back. I quit my dead end job as a paralegal. I was tired of doing all of the work for less than half the pay that the lawyers took home. Cliché as it may sound; I was going to reinvent my life. Why not? The old one hadn’t been so hot.
I had no clue where to look for help so I drove my pickup into the small town. I thought I would post some help wanted bulletins. My first stop was the feed store. A friendly looking gentleman asked me if I needed help finding anything. Knowing that he meant merchandise, I grinned and said that I was looking for few good men. He chuckled and replied, “Who are you, the US Army? “
“Not exactly, my name is Diana Borden and I recently purchased the old Wilkes place. I’m afraid I’ve gotten myself into a pickle. I need to hire a couple of folks to help with the animals and such.”
The man said his name was Bob Sullivan and he was the owner of the store. “Well, I can’t think of anyone right off hand, but I can ask around if you like.”
“That would be great, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to tack up one of these flyers on your bulletin board.”
“No problem, Miss Borden. Go right on ahead.” I made my way through the town and posted as many flyers as I could.
I decided that since I had driven all the way into town, I might as well grab a cup of coffee. There was a quaint little cafe on the corner with a small shady patio. It was a nice day so I chose to sit outside with my java. It certainly was a different pace of life here. People strolled by the cafe, running errands and things; none of them seemed to be in any hurry. Most of them said hello as they passed by my table, even though they had no idea who I was. I had picked up the local newspaper and skimmed through it. Not much news, of course, just some announcements of upcoming events. There was going to be a county fair the next month and a hog calling contest that coming weekend; stuff that you’d expect to see in a little rag like this. Miss Gully was running for student council, Mabel Jones was going to enter her blueberry pie at the fair; she had taken second place the previous year.
I was just about to head back to the farm when someone called out to me. “Hey miss? I heard you was looking for some farm hands.”
“As a matter of fact, I am. Do you know anybody?” I asked.
“My name is Dirk Stevenson and I do a bit of handy work around this town. I’m pretty good workin’ with animals too. I could start next week, if you want.”
“I sure am glad to meet you, Dirk. I really could use the help.” I said. I wrote my cell number down on a scrap piece of paper and gave it to him. “Could you stop by this weekend to look the place over?”
“That sounds just fine, miss. I’ll see you then. Enjoy your afternoon.” Dirk said. I finished the remains of my coffee and headed back up the country road to my ‘dream home’.
Back at the farmhouse, I went into the den to check my e-mail. There were only a few, mostly junk. Since I didn’t want to be contacted, I’d changed my e-mail address as well as my physical one. I even had my cell phone number changed. It was so nice not to have to worry about family drama. Peace at last.
I climbed up the stairs to change into some comfy shorts and a t-shirt. I left my shoes in the hallway and headed to the kitchen. The wood floor felt smooth and cool on my bare feet.
I grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and sat down at the table. From where I sat, I could see the horses grazing in the pasture. There were just two of them. One was black and the other a sable brown. Prince was the black one and also the older of the two. He had a haughty attitude about him, but he was sweet as pie. The brown horse was called Hershey and was only about three years old. She was playful and spunky. I had come to love them both, despite the poop.
I finished my beer and was about to have another when my cell phone rang. “Hi, Diana, how are you? I just got back from India a few days ago and my mom told me that you finally bought a farm.” It was my friend Frankie from college. We had stayed friends all of these years even though she was always off to some exotic destination.
Frankie Simmons was my complete opposite, both physically and in personality. Her five foot ten inch frame dwarfed my height of five three. She was as fair as I was dark. Frankie was a free spirit, whereas I was organized to a fault. She was never concerned about petty details.
“It’s great to hear from you! How was India?” I asked.
“Like nothing that I have ever experienced. I’m missing it already but glad to be home at the same time. How is farm life treating you? Have you heard anything from Krissy lately?”
“The work is completely overwhelming, but it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. You’ll have to come out and visit soon. It’s so beautiful and serene out here. My daughter has no idea how to reach me and I’m glad to be away from her. If only she would stop making such foolish choices.” I told her.
“Actually, I’m going to be out that way in a few weeks. I’m going to visit my aunt in Pittsburgh. I could swing by and stay for day or two if that’s ok.” Frankie said.
“That would be wonderful! Just let me know when. I can’t wait to catch up.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up. I was happy to have heard from my old friend and looked forward to our visit.
Taking a steak out for my dinner, I went out back to fire up the grill. I tossed a simple salad and took the meat outside. The grill was ready to go so I plopped on the steak and sat down in a lawn chair to wait for it to cook. When it was finished, I took it into the kitchen to rest and set myself a place on the table out on the porch. I fetched the salad and a bottle of chardonnay and set them on the table. I brought out my steak, said a little prayer of gratitude and enjoyed my meal.
I took care of the animals for the evening and sat down to peruse my copy of “The Idiot’s Guide to Farming”. The title fit me to a T; I had never felt so inept in my entire life. I’d started the book a few weeks ago and my goal was to read at least two chapters a day. There was a bunch of useful information, but it was mostly about how to grow the perfect crops; that sort of thing. I needed to know how to do the dirty work that comes with running a farm.
The sun was beginning to set and I watched the glorious colors from the porch. The sounds of crickets chirping and the fragrance of the lilac bushes gave me a peace of mind that I had been searching for my whole life. Little did I know that I would find it here on a couple of acres in the Ohio countryside? I headed into the house, shoulders aching from mucking out the stalls, and climbed up the stairs to go to get some sleep before I had to start all over again in the morning.
I was ready to burst out bawling. Here I was, holding a pitch fork, standing in a pile of horse manure. Things had gotten completely out of hand. All I wanted to do was to live a quiet country life and now here I was up to my ankles in poop. Who did I think I was? Laura Ingalls Wilder?
I bought a farm in the hills of southeastern Ohio. It sounded like the idyllic life. Then, reality set in. The cows needed milking, eggs had to be gathered, horses needed grooming and they all had to be fed, not to mention the glories of cleaning up animal feces. I thought I could do it all, but apparently, I had bitten off more than I could chew. I guessed I’d have to swallow my pride and hire some help or I’d go crazy.
I wanted to get as far away from my family as possible, so when the opportunity came to buy this property, I jumped on it. After my parents passed away, my siblings and I had become estranged and my daughter was driving me crazy. At nearly thirty years old, she was still behaving like a college kid. Always partying and getting into trouble. The only time that she ever got in touch with me was when she needed money. And of course, she blamed me for the divorce; it was my fault that Danny stole money from me in order to support his drug habit.
I left the city without telling a soul; after all, I had nothing holding me back. I quit my dead end job as a paralegal. I was tired of doing all of the work for less than half the pay that the lawyers took home. Cliché as it may sound; I was going to reinvent my life. Why not? The old one hadn’t been so hot.
I had no clue where to look for help so I drove my pickup into the small town. I thought I would post some help wanted bulletins. My first stop was the feed store. A friendly looking gentleman asked me if I needed help finding anything. Knowing that he meant merchandise, I grinned and said that I was looking for few good men. He chuckled and replied, “Who are you, the US Army? “
“Not exactly, my name is Diana Borden and I recently purchased the old Wilkes place. I’m afraid I’ve gotten myself into a pickle. I need to hire a couple of folks to help with the animals and such.”
The man said his name was Bob Sullivan and he was the owner of the store. “Well, I can’t think of anyone right off hand, but I can ask around if you like.”
“That would be great, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to tack up one of these flyers on your bulletin board.”
“No problem, Miss Borden. Go right on ahead.” I made my way through the town and posted as many flyers as I could.
I decided that since I had driven all the way into town, I might as well grab a cup of coffee. There was a quaint little cafe on the corner with a small shady patio. It was a nice day so I chose to sit outside with my java. It certainly was a different pace of life here. People strolled by the cafe, running errands and things; none of them seemed to be in any hurry. Most of them said hello as they passed by my table, even though they had no idea who I was. I had picked up the local newspaper and skimmed through it. Not much news, of course, just some announcements of upcoming events. There was going to be a county fair the next month and a hog calling contest that coming weekend; stuff that you’d expect to see in a little rag like this. Miss Gully was running for student council, Mabel Jones was going to enter her blueberry pie at the fair; she had taken second place the previous year.
I was just about to head back to the farm when someone called out to me. “Hey miss? I heard you was looking for some farm hands.”
“As a matter of fact, I am. Do you know anybody?” I asked.
“My name is Dirk Stevenson and I do a bit of handy work around this town. I’m pretty good workin’ with animals too. I could start next week, if you want.”
“I sure am glad to meet you, Dirk. I really could use the help.” I said. I wrote my cell number down on a scrap piece of paper and gave it to him. “Could you stop by this weekend to look the place over?”
“That sounds just fine, miss. I’ll see you then. Enjoy your afternoon.” Dirk said. I finished the remains of my coffee and headed back up the country road to my ‘dream home’.
Back at the farmhouse, I went into the den to check my e-mail. There were only a few, mostly junk. Since I didn’t want to be contacted, I’d changed my e-mail address as well as my physical one. I even had my cell phone number changed. It was so nice not to have to worry about family drama. Peace at last.
I climbed up the stairs to change into some comfy shorts and a t-shirt. I left my shoes in the hallway and headed to the kitchen. The wood floor felt smooth and cool on my bare feet.
I grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and sat down at the table. From where I sat, I could see the horses grazing in the pasture. There were just two of them. One was black and the other a sable brown. Prince was the black one and also the older of the two. He had a haughty attitude about him, but he was sweet as pie. The brown horse was called Hershey and was only about three years old. She was playful and spunky. I had come to love them both, despite the poop.
I finished my beer and was about to have another when my cell phone rang. “Hi, Diana, how are you? I just got back from India a few days ago and my mom told me that you finally bought a farm.” It was my friend Frankie from college. We had stayed friends all of these years even though she was always off to some exotic destination.
Frankie Simmons was my complete opposite, both physically and in personality. Her five foot ten inch frame dwarfed my height of five three. She was as fair as I was dark. Frankie was a free spirit, whereas I was organized to a fault. She was never concerned about petty details.
“It’s great to hear from you! How was India?” I asked.
“Like nothing that I have ever experienced. I’m missing it already but glad to be home at the same time. How is farm life treating you? Have you heard anything from Krissy lately?”
“The work is completely overwhelming, but it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. You’ll have to come out and visit soon. It’s so beautiful and serene out here. My daughter has no idea how to reach me and I’m glad to be away from her. If only she would stop making such foolish choices.” I told her.
“Actually, I’m going to be out that way in a few weeks. I’m going to visit my aunt in Pittsburgh. I could swing by and stay for day or two if that’s ok.” Frankie said.
“That would be wonderful! Just let me know when. I can’t wait to catch up.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up. I was happy to have heard from my old friend and looked forward to our visit.
Taking a steak out for my dinner, I went out back to fire up the grill. I tossed a simple salad and took the meat outside. The grill was ready to go so I plopped on the steak and sat down in a lawn chair to wait for it to cook. When it was finished, I took it into the kitchen to rest and set myself a place on the table out on the porch. I fetched the salad and a bottle of chardonnay and set them on the table. I brought out my steak, said a little prayer of gratitude and enjoyed my meal.
I took care of the animals for the evening and sat down to peruse my copy of “The Idiot’s Guide to Farming”. The title fit me to a T; I had never felt so inept in my entire life. I’d started the book a few weeks ago and my goal was to read at least two chapters a day. There was a bunch of useful information, but it was mostly about how to grow the perfect crops; that sort of thing. I needed to know how to do the dirty work that comes with running a farm.
The sun was beginning to set and I watched the glorious colors from the porch. The sounds of crickets chirping and the fragrance of the lilac bushes gave me a peace of mind that I had been searching for my whole life. Little did I know that I would find it here on a couple of acres in the Ohio countryside? I headed into the house, shoulders aching from mucking out the stalls, and climbed up the stairs to go to get some sleep before I had to start all over again in the morning.