Forts

I love, Love, LOVE this one from Crystal.  Forts were a big part of growing up Juniper style.  Where else would kids be allowed to exercise such creativity?

From Crystal:

I think we should give mention to the many clubs and clubhouses/forts that accounted for so many of our days.  I particularly remember being a small child and being excluded from the “big” kid’s club house.  Where if I remember right Jami was queen and Aaron was king ….dang they were cool. 

But I do believe that when we became the “big” kids (Doug, Brad, Laura, Jerica, Myself and occasionally the younger boys Jason, Forest and Levi) is when the real fort building took place.  The “old house” or old church farm grain bin was really a carpentry experience training facility.  We were not shy about stealing old slabs of wood and less old buckets of nails and hammers to turn our “old house” into a three story mansion.  

Of course accomplishing this feat did not come without some painful learning experiences.  For example: If you slip while standing on the bar which stretches across the rooms (the only way to reach the third floor area with your hammer) you should make sure to gracefully fall in front of or behind said bar and not take it up the center.  

When building a swing use enough twine.  

When building a floor use enough support boards and nails.

The best feature of our fort was the trampoline swing.  We found the frame of an old one man jumper; you know the kind the little trampolines that are about two feet wide and 8 in off the ground.  The frame had only two legs remaining.  Simply by hanging the legs on the bar that ran through the center of the house we had the best swing man has ever built (we just had to remember not to swing to high or the entire thing would jump of the bars….which happened many a time).  

Second best feature was probably the toilet in the corner …don’t know what that was ….Doug?

Does anyone have a picture of the “old house?”  Remember the lean on that thing?  …haha, and yet we had no qualms about standing on the roof.

The “old house” was not our only fort, just the most popular.  We also had “the valley,” and old pig pen …the one where we lost the hammers and made Dad and Ross not too happy, we had forts in the mountains and forts in the straw stacks (remember picking buckets of carrots, who knew that 10 gallons of carrots was not a feasible lunch for 5 kids).   

P.S.  If any of you do have a pic of said house send it my way and we will get it attached to this post.  jami_c_hurst@hotmail.com

The Real Enemy

Have any of you read the Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites series by Chris Heimerdinger?  They were popular at our house for a while.  In the second book some Gadianton Robbers find the time warp and make it from Book of Mormon times to present day.  Of course this is fiction, who believes in time warps?

Except.

When you have to get up before the sun to feed the cows, this somehow seems like a very real possibility.  What if the Gadianton's were hiding between the stacks?  I had to check.  In hind sight, I'm really not sure what I would have done had I confronted one Gadianton.  Probably pee.

Thankfully, I never encountered such an enemy.  The real threat, however, does not walk around with a loin cloth and war paint armed with swords and cimeters.  It disguises itself as some sweet, loving, barnyard creature, innocently lapping up spilled milk from the barn floor, sweetly rubbing against ones leg begging for attention, purring with contentment.

Until...

You approach the stack in the dark.

Aaaahhhhh!!!  Bat cat strikes again!  Full on heart seizure ensues, finally, as your heart beat nears normal, you carefully peek around to make sure nobody saw, realize that somehow, amazingly, your pants are still dry, and finish feeding the cows.

The other very real enemy to cow feeders???

Who of us have not had to traverse upward between two stacks in pursuit of hay in a fashion similar to this:

Thanks for the demo young Jason.

Anyway, that moment when you have neared the top and a dang flock of birds decide to exit the stack and greet you?  Or fly into you.  (Have you seen that old bird movie?  Frightening.)  Start heart seizure process again only this chain of events may or may not include you falling to near death bouncing between the two stacks like a Plinko chip.

It's amazing any of us made it out alive.  Really.

Why Do They Call it PMS???

BECAUSE MAD COW DISEASE WAS ALREADY TAKEN!!!

Haha... Levi's favorite joke.

But seriously, this is one story about a mad cow you are not gonna wanna miss!

From Jason:

Every morning before school I had to feed the cows.  While I was feeding, either Dad or Uncle Ross would milk the cows, if they saw me in the morning they would con me into gathering the cows from the corral to the holding pen for them.  

One such morning, I guess I wasn't sneaky enough, so Ross got me to go get the cows for him.  I hiked up the hill and brought all the cows down and around, when I got to the straw pile I did all my whooping and hollering to get the cows up and going; there was one cow in the corner that was not getting up. I walked along the wall up to her and kicked her to get her going.  She looked at me and as she got up, she charged at me!  With a lightning-quick-farm-ninja move, I stepped to the side and she hit her head on the wall. As I looked at her from a distance, she seemed pretty defensive. I decided not to press my luck with her so I just looked at her number (I can’t remember what it was now) and went on. When I had gathered the rest of the cows in the holding pen, I went in and let Uncle Ross know I had gathered them all except for one and gave him the cow’s number.  

Ross asked “Why didn't you bring her in?”

When I told him that the cow had charged me he gave me a questioning look as if I were talking nonsense.  He confirmed the number with me and was pretty confident that “that cow would not do such a thing.”  Together we went out to get the cow.  As we neared the straw pile he went up to check the number on the tag as I hung back, keeping my distance from the mad cow.  

When Ross confirmed the number he turned around to tell me that “this cow would not hurt a …..”

As he spoke I saw the cow charging toward him in the background, I pointed at the cow stuttering Uncle Ross's name.

Uncle Ross said “What?”

He turned around to see what I was pointing at; just then the cow hit him sending him sliding in the fresh manure.  The cow broke off and turned around for another run.  Not quite sure what to do I waved my arms and hollered while Ross raised his hand at the cow while working his way off the ground. Between the commotions the two of us made, the cow backed off.  

As we walked away from the straw pile I said to Uncle Ross “Nice cow huh?”

He didn't have much to say.

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Aren't you glad you stopped by?!?  I told ya it was a good one!  To keep reading such fine literature, e-mail me your stories!  jami_c_hurst@hotmail.com