Aunt Velma and Uncle Chuck live on a farm in the middle of nowhere in rural South Dakota. The bubble of dust created by gravel roads, and the vast amount of land separating the house from any other sign of civilization makes this farm feel like a separate world. Kittens are scattered everywhere, at least fifty of them jolt from barn to barn avoiding the dog and little kids yearning to play with them. The old windmill is in constant motion above the big red barn that's bursting with hay, and tools, and banana spiders. Anywhere else the sweltering heat would be something to complain about, but here its a familiar comfort that forces everyone out of the small stuffy house and creates a center of activity on the circle of mowed grass in front serving as a front yard. Aside from the dog and kittens the only animals Velma and Chuck own are Tiny the sheep, and one cow. When all the cousins come over there are races in the fields with motorized go-carts, and lots of water fights. As the humidity begins to mellow and the sky turns red from the setting sun, everyone heads inside to avoid the mosquitoes. After eating large portions of meat accompanied by fresh corn on the cob everyone heads off to crowded beds fitting at least three people each.
Aunt Velma is actually my dad's aunt, not mine. Uncle Chuck passed away along with the cow and kittens. The dog has grown so old and covered with tumors he moves as slow as the run down windmill. Everything smells like manure since the enormous dairy farm was built about one mile away, it has more cows than Velma has acres. As the cousins grew up and moved far away no one was able to keep the go-carts working. The barns are still full of hay and banana spiders, but the tools have rusted and the paint is peeling. The heat is slightly less bearable with the smell of manure, and the lack of water fights. The sky still turns blood red before the stars come out though, and fresh corn on the cob is still a constant. Tiny is still alive, and as long as he is Velma says she's not going anywhere.
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Great details--I love the descriptions you have like "bubble of dust" and the phrase "the humidity begins to mellow and the sky turns red..." I also love the idea of Tiny!
ReplyDeleteI really like the details! Oh haha, that's exactly what Ms. Peifer said...
ReplyDeleteBringing up the images of the old windmill, the heat, and the kittens is really effective - the kittens dying and the windmill slowing and the heat becoming less bearable demonstrate the apparent run-down, sad air the farm has adopted. Maybe put more emotional adjectives in when describing the sky and corn being the same. I don't really get a specific feeling when I read "the sky still turns blood red before the stars come out though, and fresh corn on the cob is still a constant".