Friday, April 11, 2014

Jenny

Jenny was her name and a jenny is what she was.  Daddy brought her home when I was about seven years old.  She was white, with a wooly coat in the winter that slicked off nice in the summer.  Then you could see the black of her hide better beneath the hair.  

Daddy used her to plow his gardens  She was a well trained Jenny.  All Daddy had to do was "click, click, click" his tongue and Jenny would try to pull a log through mud up to her belly.  At first, she'd try to eat the tassels off of the corn as she plowed the rows.  Daddy whipped her one time.  And that was all it took.  One look of the whip and she'd pull a straight row and ignore the corn. 

She had a hoof problem as one time that required my parents to pour turpentine on her upturned foot and light it on fire, allowing her to put it to the ground and put it out herself when it became too hot.  Something about the frog growing down too far, beyond the hoof.  

As the years passed and they grew closer, sometimes Daddy would purposefully stop and rest and let Jenny pull an ear of corn or get a mouthful of the Bahia grass that they were clearing out of the garden.  

Feeding Jenny was my first chore I was ever assigned.  A bucket of horse & mule feed.  Make sure her water was topped off.  Give her a pad of hay in the winter months when grass was scarce in her pasture.  

When I was between 11 and 13 years old, I'd try riding Jenny.  Lay on Jenny.  No saddle, just a rope around her neck to hold on to.  I can still recall how she smelt.  I could lay back on top of her with my head on her buttocks.  She could care less.  

Once I decided to ride her down a little side road from the house.  Problem was, I had to cross the ditch to do it.  No one told me the jenny wouldn't walk down and back up the ditch.  No, she bunched up and jumped the ditch!!  I was on my tail in the ditch.  But Jenny stopped and waited for me to climb back on.

The years rolled by.  Daddy was home sick in bed with colon cancer.  Spring came and Jenny would "hee-haw".  And Daddy would holler an answer.  He said she knew it was time to plant.  

Jenny outlived Daddy by about 5 years.  She passed away while I was dating Pete.  No idea how old she was, really.  After all she came from an auction.  My brother-in-law took her and buried her with his backhoe.  

Could be that Jenny and Daddy are turning the rows again, getting a harvest growing for the feast of the Bridegroom.

4 comments:

  1. I love this story about Jenny.

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  2. Awwwww, what a sweet story... You are such a good story teller... :)

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    Replies
    1. Thank you! Yes, storytelling is my strong suite. Suppose I should of stuck strickley to that for the AtoZ again. But I wanted to try to share more things to let folks feel they really knew me, even if they don't "know" me offline.

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So glad you stopped by! Come 'round any time. ~ Barbara

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