Trudy Andrew | Canadian Author

Tails From the Farm


Our kidlets were always very important to us. I always say that raising a child well, is the most important job of all. How your child turns out, is a direct reflection back on how you did at it. We didn’t spend our time putting our kids in one organized sport after another. Instead, we spent time with them. Our children were a huge part of everything that was done. We included them in our interests and supported theirs. More than anything, we always had time for them. It’s how kids learn and develop into worthwhile humans. One weekend when the kids were still young, the boychild went with his father to a toy show in a neighbouring province, while sweetpea and I stayed home. They were getting father son bonding time and the girlchild and I were going to have fun together, too. Well, hopefully sweetpea would have a great weekend, as she was having a friend from school, stay for a sleepover.
The Friday started off well enough. Sweetpea’s friend came off the school bus with her at the end of that day and like typical kids, they had all sorts of fun. There were horses to see, pony rides to be had and junk food to be eaten. The friend was to go home the next day, except the unexpected happened … it began to snow. This in itself wasn’t so unusual for winter in Manitoba, neither was the prospect of more snow than forecast that threatened to become a full-fledged storm. By the time Saturday morning dawned, the storm that had blown in overnight had become a blizzard. Though our yard had enough trees to shelter it from the full brunt of the weather, beyond our little haven visibility was almost zero. There would be no leaving the yard. Sweetpea’s friend wouldn’t be picked up, nor would she be able to be taken home. No one was going anywhere, in such weather. Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal. The problem this time was that this particular child, who had never been over before was a brat. Not just a brat, a capital letter, BRAT sort of brat. A stickler for manners and a well-behaved child, this wasn’t something I was too pleased with. Fast losing patience, I wished the blizzard would end. All I wanted was for the girl to go home. Funny thing was, sweetpea was pretty fed up with her as well. Still, the wind stayed up and the conditions didn’t improve. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that we were stuck with her for another full day and night.
The dawning of a new morning revealed a clear, crisp day. A thick blanket of snow lay everywhere, sparkling and white, it was pretty yet depressing at the same time. No car would be able to travel through snow that deep. In fact, unless raised and four-wheel drive, most trucks wouldn’t be able to either. Though it was no longer storming out, there was no way for anyone to come and pick up sweetpea’s guest. To top it off, my little kidlet wasn’t feeling well. I would need to go out and do chores before too long, yet didn’t trust the extra kid to behave herself. All I wanted was, for her to go home, but how?
Sitting parked and plugged in beside the garage, all covered with snow, yet ever so enticing was a large, raised, four by four truck. It belonged to my good friend Del. He’d loaned it to me to haul a few large bales of hay that Friday. I was supposed to return it on Saturday, but as the storm had blown in, hadn’t been able to. Now it sat there, beckoning me with all its potential. That big brute of a truck was the answer to, my bratty kid problem. It would be able to transport the brat home. I bundled up to head outside, only to find that I wasn’t able to get out of the door. Snow had piled up against it and I couldn’t budge it more than a few inches. A few inches, just wouldn’t cut it, not even if I was a skinny person, which I’m so not. The front door it would have to be. Up high at the top of stairs, it wasn’t blown in like the back door was. Don’t get me wrong, the steps were under snow, but at least I could open the door. With not even the semblance of a path, blown in or not, I had no choice but to slog through hip deep snow to the driveway, which wasn’t much better. Better, but not a whole lot and still a struggle to slog through.
By the time I swept the snow off the tall vehicle, started the engine then hurried back inside to tell the girls of the plan, I was exhausted. Still, things were looking up and my spirits soared. I would be able to return the ‘brat’ to her home. Very shortly, sweetpea and I would be by ourselves and peace could return to our little home.

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About Trudy Andrew

Trudy Andrew lives on a small farm just east of Winnipeg, Manitoba, where she enjoys her Morgan horses. A dreamer since she was a child, its no surprise to those who know her well that her imagination would find an outlet in writing, as it has in the past through artwork.
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 Oakbank, MB