Throwback Thursday

The picture above was taken at my maternal grandparent's home in Martinsville, Indiana. By the style of my eye wear, I would have to guess that this was taken in the early 1970s and I would have been probably around 11 years old. My brothers, Andrew (in the white shirt) and Samuel (the maroon pants) are in the picture with me.

I remember this day well. My blouse had pictures of Holly Hobbies on it. Remember Holly Hobbies?

Image from Internet

I loved that blouse. I loved the Holly Hobbies print and the style of the blouse. What I did not like wearing that day were the denim jeans. They were a new pair. They were very stiff, hot and a bit too roomy...I had to keep pulling them up.

My brothers and I were feeding two of my grandparent's calves. I enjoyed helping to feed the calves. My grandpa would bring the feeding buckets into the house and fill them just over half-way with water in grandma's large, white, kitchen sink. He would then add the powdered formula to the water. He let us mix the water and formula with our hands. I  can still smell the formula...it was similar to the way powdered milk smells but with a more yeasty or malty smell to it. It would also become a bit foamy or frothy during the mixing process.

Image from Internet

We helped grandpa carry the buckets out to the fence and called the calves to us. They came running as we put the bucket nipples through the fence wire. If you have ever seen a calf nurse from its mother, you know that they will butt their heads into her udder to help with the flow of her milk. These calves would butt the buckets as they sucked on the rubber nipple. The formula sloshed around in the buckets. We saw the wisdom in grandpa only filling up the buckets half-way.

I always like helping grandpa with his livestock. He had chickens and pigs too. The chickens were pretty much self-sufficient but we had to slop the hogs. Grandpa would get day-old, hard rolls (he called it pig bread) from the grocery in town to make the slop. I was surprised (and older) when I found out that there was not something called pig bread sold in groceries. I still think of grandpa's pig bread when I smell stale bread.

My grandpa said someday I would make a good farmer's wife because I liked helping him with his animals. I knew even then that I did not want to be a farmer's wife...helping during a visit to grandpa and grandma's was fun but I sure didn't want to do it for a living.