There's a Frank Sargeson story about a boy who works on a farm and warms his cold feet in the mornings by standing in cowpats. It's typical Sargeson - short, economical, a deceptively sweet coming of age story.
When I worked on a dairy farm years later, I got peed on and crapped on by cows most mornings as I hooked and unhooked them to and from the milking machine. I'm still struck by the scale of their waste, but that's a whole other story. I remember once putting my gumbooted foot into a cowpat as I sprayed weeds. I could feel the heat through the rubber.
With winter approaching, and us having cold hard floors throughout the house, cold feet are more of a reality every day. Sweeney and I bicker over whether he'll wear his slippers, or his socks, or his socks and slippers ...
He'd love to play in some cowpats in his bare feet. I just know it ...
No comments:
Post a Comment