I’ve never heard a rooster say “cock-a-doodle-doo.” It’s always been closer to “Er, er-er, er-OOooo.”
This morning, I heard a rooster crowing in the distance before dawn. I had a sudden pang of longing for the house I grew up in and the pasture I played in as a child.
Half-asleep, I was struck by a memory of play amidst the tall grasses and reeds, watching my mom come down from the house to milk the goats and feed the chickens. Twilight chill and damp. The silhouettes of the orchard: fig, apple, persimmon, boughs bent with heavy fruit and framed by blackberry brambles and a brush pile. A breeze in the cottonwoods that sounded like rain and the sleepy mutters of chickens settling down. No pain, no fear, no worries.
It made me homesick. It was more than that: I miss having parents actively involved in my life. I miss that sort of childish innocence that comes with not having to be completely responsible for yourself, knowing someone will watch over you and take care of you.
As I get older, I realize what an idyllic childhood I had.
I saw the doctor again today, who dropped the steroids and decided I should be on two antibiotics for a while. He’s still not really sure what’s wrong, so I have a referral to a gastroenterologist for a diagnosis and treatment. That consult could be a month or more off, so if I’m not better in a week, he’ll ask them to expedite my appointment.
I remember hearing the roosters at your house. Seems like a long time ago…
Another layout change! *teh flailz*
I grew up hearing a lot of cows mooing. Sometimes I miss the peace of farm country. But I definitely don’t miss the smell of the dairy farms.
The peace of farm country… that’s a good way to put it. 15 years ago, I was sure I wanted to live in a big, busy city. Now. . . maybe not. Although I definitely don’t have time to work 40 hours a week *and* keep up a farm. I have no idea how my mother managed it all.
There will be many more layout changes in the future. :evil grin:
I have always heard roosters pretty much the same way. Though the rhythm of cockle-doodle-doo is right for their early morning crowing.
Though by the time I was born and into the family, all the farm animals had long gone and my grandparent’s barn was empty. What brings back feelings of childhood for me is the smell of cold winter in the air, fresh cut grass and wet-dirt, or gardens. My grandmother had an amazing green thumb and spent most of her free time gardening when she could.
I hope the doctors figure out what’s wrong–and that it’s something passing, maybe a bug!