Well, since you don’t really listen to me, or take my advice—yes,

I have seen you clear out by the Butler Bins—-you need to get this through your fluffy head…

RUN! RUNNNN!  GET OUT OF THERE!

TLC CAI-CAI!!!!!!

there is a fox out there!

Fox EAT CATS!!!!

 Let that sink in…STAY. AT. The. Butler BINS!!!

Huff, huff.

Well, on with your lesson.  We live on a farm.  We don’t live in town, or in a clump of houses called a sub-division, or on a ranch.

We live where Dad works the land—plowing, planting, marking, watering, growing, and then harvesting.

Farms grow foodstuffs.

A Ranch grows Grass.  Grass called Pasture. Pasture lands for animals.

Not us…yes, I know we are animals.

Big animals, cows, horses, sheep, goats, those sorts of animals.

Oh! Just so you know.  Come winter, after the crops are gone from the farm, then cows come. They eat up all the dried-up grasses and weeds and alfalfa, and left-over corn stalks.

“Are we a ranch then?”

“No, we are a guest hotel for a rancher and all his cows” I replied.

So, now you know, we live on a farm. We grow pasture grasses, alfalfa; three big fields of alfalfa, which Dad and Mom turn into hay, and corn.  The corn is field corn, not sweet corn.  Although, the cows think it is pretty sweet and yummy.

Our corn is the kind of corn that goes for food like cereal, and food for animals; like chickens, cows, goats, etc.”

Okay, so now you know…we live on a farm.

Next time I will teach you more about the farm.

Until then you stay out of the cornfield, there are foxes in there!

Mindy Lou-Sue, or as Mom calls me, Min-Min