Cow Chip




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" February 25, 2003 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com ----------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to your latest issue of "Write 2 the Heart" You are receiving this newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. To subscribe send a blank e-mail to subscribe@write2theheart.com. ------------------------------------------------------------ Ever have someone tell you how to do something and leave out an important step? Pamela did, and with very smelly results. ------------------------------------------------------------ Cow Chip Tea By Pamela Jenkins ------------------------------------------------------------ One morningDad watched as my mother carefully positioned aglass jar filled with water and three tea bags. She was setting it on the patio so the sun would shine on it, warming the water and steeping the tea bags to make sun tea.This gave Dad an idea.If the sun would warm and steep the tea bags, why couldn't the same idea work on a larger scale? Dad set up a 55 gallon barrel near his garden spot and filled it with water. He proudly showed me the contents one day when I was home visiting. "I use a watering can, and just skim some water off the top of the barrel. I use it to water the baby tomato plants in the garden. Should give me the best crop I ever had." Dad was proud of his brew. "Why is the water so brown?" I asked as I peered into the murky depths. Dad gave me a grin and answered, "Cow chips. Nature's own fertilizer." This was just like my father, I thought. He was doing his bit torecycle, in his own way. But the idea stayed with me, especially when I saw his bumper crop of Big Boy tomatoes that summer. I'm not much of a gardener, but I do enjoy my flowerbeds. I considered making my own cow chip tea butthe ingredients weren't readily available in my town. Besides, what would the neighbors think? After a few more years of city living, my husband and I moved to the country. It was wonderful! There was more room for the kids and the dogs, andto my heartfelt joy, a house begging for flowers to be planted around it. All went well the first year. I dug and weeded a bed for the plants.I hauled in rocks to line the borders.I bought petunias, rose moss and begonias. Friends gave me starts of Jacob's Coat and irises. My pride and joy was the fuchsia geraniums. The next spring, the flowerswere just beginning to bloom when the neighbor's cows paid me a visit. Forty head of rangy-looking mama cows, calves and one bull broke through the fence next door. They moved down the dirt road and turnedup my driveway, trampling my lawn and leaving piles of manure across my yard. I watched through the window as they circled the house, around and around, not stopping to munch on the green grass. They seemed bewildered and lost, snorting at eachother and spooking if they saw me. Soon the rancher came looking for them, tooting his pickup horn. The cows apparently associated the pickup with feeding time. Theyeagerly followed him back down the road to his gate. What a mess my yard had become! The hoof prints were deep, and it was going to be difficult to mow over them. And the cow patties! They were everywhere. That's when the idea came. I went to the old barn and began looking for a container. Ifound an old barrel with no top. I rolled it over to the side of the house and rinsed it out with the garden hose. Then I grabbed a shovel. I hauled a lot ofmanure that day. Back and forth across the yard, scooping and dumping the lot into the barrel. It wasabout a fourth of the way full when I decided I had enough.I turned on the water hose and let it fill to the rim. Now all I had to do was sit back and let the sun do the rest. A couple of days later, Itook a bucket and went out to water the flowers. I walked up to the barrel and wrinkled up my nose. The smell was awful. The thick, black goo was nothing like what my Dad used in his garden. Maybe a few more days of steeping was in order. By the end of the week, I knew my concoction was a mistake. It was thick as sludge and buzzed with flies. The only thing I could do was tip the barrel over and pray for rain to wash it out of the yard. The only thing good that came of it was a rich crop of crabgrass the next year. I toldDad about the experience. He raised his eyebrows, and looked at me blankly.Then a smile crept across his face. "Ah, you used fresh cow chips, didn't you? Ha ha! You're only supposed to use the old, dried-out ones!" He continued to laugh out loud. Just like my father, I grumbled, to leave out critical, need-to-know information like that. It's been a dozen years or more since I tried to make natural fertilizer. I learned a valuable lesson from that experience, though. Now, I just stick with Miracle-Gro! Pamela Jenkins ramblinrabbit @ juno.com You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know what you think of their story, just remember to remove the space before and after the @ symbol. The space is placed in the address to protect our writers from viruses and email harvesting programs. Have a comment on today's story? Send it to: moderator@write2theheart.com ---------------------------------------------------------------- Pamela Jenkins lives on a farm near Tulsa, Oklahoma with her husband of twenty-three years and their four children. She is an office manager and enjoys writing in her spare time. Pamelais a contributing author to such books as Chocolate for a Woman's Dreams, Written in Stone, and Chicken Soup for the Grandparent's Soul. She enjoys hearing from readers and can be reached at ramblinrabbit @ juno.com -------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------- Letters From Our Readers -------------------------------------------------------------- It's funny how we can look back and pull things from our memory that ma-ma used to do and find it still works. I'm surprised at the patience of Mary-Ellen. I don't think I would have been as nice to her visitors. But looking back, I can remember ma-ma throwing dishwater on her roses. She always said it helped them grow. I wonder now if she ever knew it was the soap keeping the bugs off? Sherry C. --------------------------------------------------------------- Military Prayer Reminder --------------------------------------------------------------- As you read over this list of names, please take that moment to pray for these young people and their families: Chris Speir, Tim Speir, Howard, Alan, Thaddeaus and Jessie. If you have loved ones in the military, or who are being called to go overseas, send their names (first and last or first only) to be included in our prayer reminder. --------------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner We took our second son, his wife, and two sons to our favorite Mexican restaurant the other night. The youngest is 16 months. He had a wonderful time. He thought the rice was something to play with. Drew, the three-year-old gentleman, kept rolling his eyes at the mess his younger brother was making. After the meal, the little boys walked with me to pay for our meal. There by the register was a display of large, bouncy, happy-face balls. I bought them each one. When I handed them to the boys I told them to be sure and take them home and aggravate their father. The guy behind the counter looked at me quizzically. I told him that their father had been my pistol growing up and I was looking for payback. He laughed and acted like he understood, but I don't think he will truly understand until he has children. God Bless, Cheryl ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- © 2003 Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors.