Frozen Ponds at Christmas Time

The life of a dairyman and his family was eventful sometimes. The summers could be scorching hot, searing the skin until it felt deep fried. A blazing hot sun on a cloudless day was brutal most times. In Central Texas, humidity wasn't the issue, but a strong wind blew constant determined to take one down to the ground!
It was a dry heat. Different than gulf coast living. It was tolerable, but one still had to be careful to avoid heat exhaustion or heat stroke. Following a blazing summer, came the Fall.
It was a always a welcome change, moving into better temps and seeing the change of season moving forward. If it was to be a cold winter, the leaves would begin to change and dance to the rythm of the blowing winds. Trees were everywhere one looked...tall, skinny, fat, knarled, elegant and some, downright ugly, but green.
As the weather changed, the life of the dairyman picked up tempo somewhat. Waking at 4 a.m. to begin his day, the cows were pastured and had to be called to the lot where they stood aimlessly waiting their turn to walk into the barn.
The barn was stark white, cement blocks, with a row of windows that framed it's entire front. IN the summer, every window was flung wide open to alleviate some of the heat. And, in harmony with the natural wind, a big water cooler was hung in the end wall...blowing a blissful cool breeze of air constantly throughout the afternoon hours in hot weather.
As 'ol Man Winter set up residence, the windows were slammed shut, the catch locked and thus they remained for the duration. The old antique wood stove sat quietly about five feet inside the front door of the barn. When the temp dropped, the wood was shoved in the small front opening and lit to provide that steady circle of warmth within a few feet of the old grey wood burning stove.
INside the barn, the cows would be standing with their head locked in a stantion, eating the blissful scoops of feed that lay silenty for them to consume. As a milking machine was attached to the four udders and the power turned on, the rythmical, singsong of the pulsating machines could lull you into nothingness. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh as the milk ran down the glass bowl where you could watch it disappear into the pipeline. Four machines ran constantly, gently nursing the sweet, white milk from cow's udder and sending it on a rampaging journey into the stainless steel milk line.
Once it dumped into the 3000 pound stainless steel, refrigerated tank, job done. It was chilled ice cold until the Pure Milk Co. truck roared up into the wide gravel drive and swing hastily into postion to back up to the milk room.
Once there, a long, circular tube was taken from the tanker and snaked through the small, round opening near the floor of the front porch. Once inside, the driver quickly connected it to the siphone spout and then cranked open the valve. Two thousand pounds of milk poured from the huge tank and emptied into the belly of the sleeping giant.
After all was said and done, everything was disconnected and the milkman was on his way. Another day, another dollar...'udderly' amazing, it was.
Those were the more simple days of the dairy life. However, as old man winter took aim on the Waco area each season, one could be more deadly than the year before. On a particular Christmas/New Year time, he struck with voracity. No mercy.
The temps plunged into the teens, the rain turned into sleet and the horrific winter winds howled. Didn't matter what the conditions were, the work had to go on. Battling the weather, the elements and all, finally getting the cows rounded up and penned within their barbed wire perimeter, another session could commence.
However, December 1966 delivered a powerful punch. It was necessary for the farm hands to take axes to the tanks/ponds. The water was frozen inches thick and cows must have water to survive, regardless of the extreme weather and conditions.
Heaving the heavy axes high above their shoulders and then slamming it down into the thick, frozen ice, was a sound you wouldn't forget. It didn't work with one blow...it was challenging. And, most likely, by the end of the next milking round, it had to be repeated.
That winter scenerio appeared many times throughout my dad's 37 years of dairying. However, that New year's Eve was very unkind. The weather was foul, the temps were single digits, mud was everywhere, sleet pelted you when you left the cover of house or barn and it was unending.
To worsen the situation, the water pipes to the big county home had frozen solid, thus no water indoors. When all seemd hopeless,an unexpected event took place. That early morning on New year's Eve,my dad sat at the end of the dining table. Mother was there with him and watched in horror as the ill-fated episode commenced.
With a terrible headache, he suddenly threw his head back and as he did, his gray eyes rolled to back of his head. He was reaching for the back of his neck when it hit,and his right arm was frozen in place as well.
As panic raced through her veins, Lucille dawned raincoat and slickers and trotted to the barn to get the help to come and see what was going on. The man had been 'filling' in for J.W. since he had experienced flu like symptoms during the preceding days.
When the two shot through the back porch door, J.W. was sitting with his forehead resting on his right hand. The episode had released him, but there was definitely something terrible going on. His color was ashen gray/white and he could not speak a word.
Assisting him to the back seat of the car, off they went,hurling over the old iron railing bridge and skimming across the cracked cement bottom stretch of road. To the hospital as fast as the tires would turn from 5 miles out in the country into the heart of town.
Turned out, he had a 98% blockage in his right carotid artery and was on the verge of a stroke. Surgery was successful and he was taken home the third day after. In all of the mallay, the help had quit and walked out.
What would happen to the 52 cows that had to be milked twice a day? Panic set in and many phone calls followed. Finally, a young dairyman who knew J.W. agreed to stand in for him. That young man would milk his herd and rush over to our farm to milk my dad's herd.
We were saved by the grace of neighbor with a good heart! Well, we thought that was the case. Soon after my dad returned to his milking schedule, he began to notice many of his prize cows were 'drying up'....that meant they would be out to pasture for months before birthing a bull or heifer calf and returning the milk line. The young man had not let them milk out completely during each session. He was running short on time, so he cut many corners that cost a great deal ultimately.
That season of ice, wind, sleet and other...was the most costly season for my dad. Without a large number of cows standing at the stall, munching on the grain, liberally offering milk to gentle massage of a milking machine, production dropped drastically.
That season ended up and cost a lot in losses. Did he recover? Yes, over time. Was it easy? Not at all. Paying for loads of feed costs hundreds of dollars. But, finally the production had turned around, winter had passed on by and the spring time was just on the verge of landing in Central Texas.
Life on the farm was challenging for the man in charge. But, with strong will and a good mind, he always surpassed the mark and was known as one of a very few highly successful dairyman in the central Texas area.
To our wonder, we never did experience as harsh a winter as that one, ever again. I tip my hat to my dad...his strong character and dedication to family and work kept him going. ON the flip side,his best cheerleader/partner, my mother, was a very intregal part of that successful equation.
Through the good, the bad and the ugly...we survived and lived to face the next onslaught of unexpected challenges...or welcome the unexpected blessings sent our way. It was a win-win...successful until his retirement in 1970. Thanks to the strong Freedman duo. Job well done!

Through Colored Glasses

Springtime in the country was the most beautiful time on the dairyfarm. The grass grew thick and deep, green and plush and served as the perfect bed for a teenage girl to lay on her back, gazing at the floating clouds.
As the horse lazily grazed, the blonde haired, blue-eyed kid lay in the breeze and dreamed. The clouds took on many different shapes and sizes, but there was always something in the sky to grab her attention and hold her steadfast with wonder.
The soft bed of plush, new growth felt as comfortable as bed...because it wasn't about that at all. It was about relaxing, clearing the mind and letting life's visions dance through her mind. True, she lived out from the community and had to commute to the high school.
For some, perhaps that would have been a challenge. To her, it was life. The best life. Driving home each day, hearing the kerplunk of the gravel rocks spatting the car as she sailed through the course was a symphony to her. It was the sound of home. That was what she knew.
Rounding the final "S" curve prior to entering the huge gravel drive up to the big 'ol white country home, she'd slow gently and cruise the course while looking out over the bottom land.
A large tank sat right in the crook of the pasture and beyond that, many acres of flat ground that led down the banks of Tehuacana Creek. A long, narrow 'slew' ran through the middle ground of the bottom and always some amount of water in it. Had to be careful though if you rode a horse into it.
The mud was like peanut butter, thick, sticky and would suck a leg deeper into the wet goo. Once a horse hit the mud, a loud pop would explode with each foot lifted from slime and sticky grip. Black, wet, cold mud clinging for life would almost make a good horse founder.
The view from big front porch of the country home was worth the time. You sat upon the steps and slowling raised your eyes from the white board fence around the plush yard and ran the view for thousands of yard to treeline of the old, crooked creek.
Not only did the lazy bottom offer room for horseback riding, hide 'n seek with other horse buds and hidden, secret lairs on the creek, it offered massive hay crops. Her daddy planted hay every spring and it would be harvested in the summer. The very hot, sweaty summer!
Life was the sound of the huge combine mowing the hay and laying it down in straight rows...that enabled the 'bailer' to drive beside it, scoop a bale amount in, shape it into a rectangle and wrap two pieces of bailing wire around it. The rythmical hum of the mower could be heard all the way of the bottom hill into the front yard of the country home.
Captured, baled and encapsulated, the hay would lay until the haulers were hired to go and stack every bale and deliver it to the giant, wide-open hay barn. That's what made the 'fun' for the farmer's daughter. Hay stacks, jumping from the upper tier, playing in the hand built maze of tunnels and some days....sitting among the huge bales of peanut hay with her dog, Rip. Peeling one peanut at a time and killing an afternoon. Crunch and more crunch!
For some, the country was absurd. Country. Huuummpphh...who'd live that far out? Sometimes, those questions were posed to us 'country folk' when we were in the huge metropolis of Bellmead, Texas. I think the Baylor folks had a saying 'bout Bellmead...something like "help the needy in Bellmeady'....so, country to me wasn't bad at all.
When her brother hit the big BU band and became a Frat brother in K-PSi...all of those young men would gather in the middle of the country home...sitting in the living room floor, every spring to watch the biggest event of the year....THE ACADEMY AWARDS.
Yep, some of them were from million dollar families, parents who toured the world or, perhaps, from a place where he was considered fortunate to enter BU. It didn't matter. The country home was just that. Everyone was welcome, the food was wonderful and the hospitality could be matched by none!!
After living in the country, with 300 acres for a playground, city life held no candle. The blonde haired country girl spent her life in education. Through various avenues, connections were made with old high school friends/classmates. Amazingly enough, several of those 'city folk' have ended up living their lives in the COUNTRY! They love it, they have horses, they love nature and more! Imagine...she was the kid on the 'outside' looking in. Now those other kids are in the lap of life!
One of life's lessons for all should be that of respecting and loving all for who they are. It matters not what a person looks like, how they talk or what brand of shirt they dawn for class. Life truly teaches until the end of the road. I hope all of us have enriched ourselves through the years, settled comfortably into the now and understand that friends are what make the world go round.
And, no fear....after all, "He's got the whole world in His hands!"