Mentor Texts with Lynne & Rose
  • Home
  • About Lynne & Rose
  • Our Books & Video
  • Grammar Matters
  • Presentations
  • Bookings
  • Blogging with Rose
  • Blogging with Lynne
  • Your Turn Lessons
  • Notebook Entries
  • Books Too Good to Miss
  • Endorsements
  • Links

The Manure Pile

3/16/2016

14 Comments

 
            Jody and I were standing on top of the manure pile, using our pitchforks to dig down and level the pile by making the mound flatter and wider on top. A manure pile had to be kept neat until the end of each month when Sal would come with his truck and front end loader to haul it away. I often wondered if it all ended up in Kennett Square for mushroom growers. Mushrooms were the number one cash crop from Kennett.

            As we dug deeper into the pile, thee straw was stained a deep orange. We could feel rise and its heat warm us, even though it was a cold and crisp January afternoon. The pungent smell was disgusting, but if you worked at a stable, it went with the territory.  The pile had become a small mountain, and it was difficult - no, next to impossible - to push a loaded wheelbarrow up the wooden ramp to the top to empty it. So we were flattening the top to make the pile wider and lower.

            January air nipped at our noses and ears, freezing our breath in tiny clouds. All of a sudden, a barrage  of snowballs pelted us. I put my one arm up to ward them off, backed up, and lost my balance. The next thing I knew, I was toppling into the manure pile. Jody had to use both hands to pull me out of the muck. Her father snapped the picture – my woolen sweater and woolen hat decorated with strands of gooey straw.

            The enemy – all the kids who rode with me. They scattered like leaves before a storm. Only a lone photographer, Jody's father, was left standing in the courtyard to snap the pictures!

I had several pictures that showed this entire event, but I used them over thirty years ago when I taught fourth grade at Woodlawn in Willow Grove. My students were writing an "Every Picture Tells a Story" piece based on a photograph. We displayed them in the hall for all to see. Of course, my writing was displayed with my class's writing. They were a big hit with the kids, the parents, and teachers. I wish I knew what happened to the piece I wrote and those photographs!


Picture
14 Comments
Adrienne
3/16/2016 06:19:50 am

My brother worked at a mushroom farm when he was in high school. My mother used to hide him off before he was allowed in the house.

Reply
lynne dorfman link
3/16/2016 06:49:13 am

I get that! I cam home with shoes and socks filled with sand from the riding ring!

Reply
Donna Smith link
3/16/2016 06:53:04 am

I love the smells of the farm. It's really an acquired taste I think. You do grow to love it.
Though you may not have the pictures now, the story makes a picture of its own.

Reply
lynne dorfman link
3/16/2016 06:59:58 am

I love barn smells, too, Donna. Especially clean, bright straw and alfafa hay, a winter mash - steamy and sweet - and the smell of warm sleek horses enjoying a nap in their stalls.

Reply
Rose Cappelli
3/16/2016 07:29:18 am

Always loved this story!

Reply
lynne dorfman link
3/16/2016 10:08:35 am

Thanks, Rosie! It is funny to look back on and remember!

Reply
Cindy link
3/16/2016 09:33:09 am

Sorry you misplaced those special pictures but now the memory cannot be lost! Thank you for sharing your mishap with us.

Reply
lynne dorfman link
3/16/2016 10:07:02 am

Thanks for responding, Cindy. I appreciate your thoughts.

Reply
Shelly
3/16/2016 02:02:08 pm

Great story, Lynne! I love "Every Picture Tells a Story" writing piece! Going to try that with my class! Thanks for the inspiration!

Reply
Tara Smith link
3/16/2016 04:42:19 pm

What a story! I can see why it was such a hit with your students years ago - I can almost hear their reactions!

Reply
Diane Anderson (newtreemom) link
3/16/2016 04:56:05 pm

I enjoyed your story. It's a great activity to do together in class, too. It reminded me of a slice I wrote about my sister and daughter, horse lovers like you.
https://newtreemom.wordpress.com/2012/03/05/youll-thank-me-for-this-slice-5/
It also reminded me of another time my sister fell into something near the barn...an egg pit...she could have drowned. Thankfully, the owner of the farm where she boarded her horse saw what happened and got there in time to pull her out.
In connection with writing, it reminds how many memories we all have that make good stories!

Reply
Diane Dougherty link
3/16/2016 05:23:11 pm

I love this story. I, too, wish you had the piece you wrote back then. Every picture does tell a story.

Reply
Clare link
3/16/2016 06:00:50 pm

Oh.... poor you! My guess is that you were laughing in no time! In fact, knowing you, I heard you laughing as she was pulling you and you saw the camera. I wish we had the picture to confirm! Love the craft -- I was right in the manure with you!
Clare

Reply
lynne dorfman link
3/17/2016 05:11:39 am

It was pretty funny, Clare. And yes, I was laughing, especially when Joe Beily presented me with 3 photos documenting fall and rescue!

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    Picture
    Picture

    Author

    Lynne loves to write in the early morning hours, especially in warm weather when she can sit outside on the patio.  After a walk with her three Welsh Corgis, her mind is cleared and her spirit is inspired by the choir of birds in nearby bushes and trrees. 

    Archives

    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2012
    December 2011

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.