When I first decided on the title for this entry, I had forgotten about ranches. I was thoroughly embarrassed. After all, most of my vacations while I was growing up were spent working on a ranch. What’s more is I’ve only been to one farm during my entire life so far.
Enough about the title and embarrassment.
I live in what’s known as a subdivision. These are parcels of land sold exclusively for residential use. You won’t see a store until you leave one of these areas. The one I live in is called Shiloh; fitting for the southern state of Tennessee. Although we have easy access to the town, our little haven is approximately a mile past the city limits.
Without the regulation limits that are common in towns, we’re allowed to have all sorts of domestic animals as long as they’re properly cared for. There used to be a donkey that lived maybe five or six houses away from mine. I never did see the creator, but every once in a while the bray would travel as far as our residence. The owner had an acre of land, which was what was required for an animal that big. I haven’t a clue as to what has happened to the donkey. I just know that all braying has stopped. One block over from my street, there’s someone who owns chickens. They get out occasionally and I’ll see them in my front yard pecking in an attempt to find seeds to eat. They always make it home for feeding time though.
The one who has the chickens has something in the backyard I can see from any of my front windows. It’s a hay feeder. It was there when I moved in six years ago. I’ve never seen hay in it, which I find peculiar. I mean, why else would you have a hay feeder?
I thought of the possibility that the owner of that residence used to own the land in back of them, the parcel facing on my street. But I dismissed that notion when I studied the house on my street that would have been part of it. The house on my street is older that the one owned by the ‘chicken rancher’.
This hay contraption isn’t one of those small jobbers either. The hay would be laid on the platform that looks about the height a horse would like. It has a red barn-type roof on it to keep the hay dry. On either side is extensions of the roof that go out slanted. My only thought for this is so the horses can stay dry while they eat.
Right now, there’s cut wood piled under one of the slanted extensions. If the owner has a fireplace, it must be one with the tin pipe and on the other side of the house where I can’t see it. Of course, the wood could be there for safe keeping for a friend or family member who lives where he or she doesn’t have the room for that kind of storage.
I can see this farm/ranch apparatus from where I sit at my computer. With the bright-colored leaves of the season, I can visualize other scenery around it, making it a picture you’d probable see in any medical or dental office. You know, a barn, a farmhouse, a couple of horses actually eating hay at the feeder — and no subdivision.
Do you find odd things close to where you live?
Imagination disposes of everything; it creates beauty, justice, and happiness, which is everything in this world. – Pascal