In Place

Good morning to you!
Good morning to you!
We're all in our places with bright shiny faces,
For this is the way to start a new day.

My mother was born in 1904 in Averyville, Illinois (since subsumed into Peoria).  After high school, Mother attended Normal School, a college of sorts where students were specifically trained to be teachers.  After graduation, her first job was to teach all grades in a one-room school in a very rural area where she boarded with a student's family.  Bus service was nonexistent, so teacher and students walked to school whatever the weather.  One of her favorite tales was a time after a bad storm as she walked past the local cemetery on a hill and the rain had washed away dirt and exposed the ends of coffins; it scared the bejeezus out of her.

I still have a small notebook in which she entered all the games the children played and the rules, little ditties like the one above (which she also taught to me), and other pertinent information.  Given today's curricula, it is a little gem of history.

Trying to get into practice, I went down to the barn an hour earlier than usual yesterday morning.  Tessie and Inga had survived the night in their strange rooms, but I kept the same feeding order before letting them out.  They were confused, but it went well overall.

Given an extra hour before the heat of the day and the fact that I was not yet on Cam duty, I actually got some necessary chores done here.  At sundown, putting the girls to bed was a breeze.  Goats might have a short attention span, but fairly long memories.  Tess and Inga didn't want to have a repeat of the night before so went willingly and quickly into their assigned places (hence the little song).

There is a neighbor who has had issues with Camille in the past.  She knows Cam and I are friends, so she calls me with her complaints (??).  I expect a call today, as all three of Camille's dogs barked throughout the night (they're still barking this morning, and it's not yet 5 a.m.).  Honey, Sammi, and Bud Man are not used to being left alone overnight and were/are voicing their displeasure.  There's nothing I can do about it, but I know I'll hear about it.