My siblings and I grew up on an active dairy farm in NW Alabama. Dad would get up early milk, bottle it and then head out on his milk route. In the afternoon, they would hit the fields, come home to milk the cows, and come in late, so we didn’t get to see much of my Dad. It is rare that Alabama gets snow, much less a white Christmas, but this year we got snow on Christmas Eve! Christmas morning we went out to play and there in the snow were two sled tracks, small hoof prints in between the tracks going across the yard stopping short of the basement door. We also found Santa’s boot prints going to the door. At last we found the answer how Santa got into our house without a chimney! Years later we found out that the boot prints were Dad’s going to the basement to bring out a merry go round which explained the sled tracks. The hoof prints turned out to be the dogs following behind Dad. Our parents had spent half the night putting together the merry go round and had to get up early to milk.
Mary, I am just starting to read through your archives. Your writing is so interesting; maybe because I always admired your mom and dad and had an idea of how hard they worked on the dairy farm.
You should write a book about you and your family’s adventures.
I know you could do a wonderful tribute to your parents.
Love ya
Martha
Thanks Martha, I’m taking baby steps. Cathy talked me into doing this. I’d like to do a book at some point on the adventures of my 3. I don’t Mom needs to know what we got into yet. She about had a stroke a couple of years back when she heard about us doing mountain climbing out of the loft of the barn from the old mule rail system to haul hay in.
Love you too, will get by to see you and Mono I promise. Mary