Laura Zoeller

Column Laura Zoeller

Laura Zoeller is a farm wife and mother who has been blessed with a wonderful and funny - life.
18

Sep 2017

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I’m an old lady

Discovering a sad truth: I’m an old lady

I have discovered a sad truth about myself: I have gotten old. Sometime in the years since I left college, the transformation happened where I no longer understand college-aged kids. Maybe I never did.

I had my oldest daughter the same month I finished my freshman finals, and from there on out I worked two and three jobs while maintaining my full courseload of classes.

I made few friends on campus because I could never go to anything after school. I attended few events that weren’t mandatory because child care was hard to come by. And I never lived on campus because bringing a child to live in the dorms was frowned upon more than bringing a pet.

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11

Sep 2017

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A laundry awakening

Am I remembering this summer correctly? Didn’t it rain every week, and sometimes every day? Haven’t the farmers had a hard time making hay, the homeowners had a hard time keeping their grass cut, and the gardeners had a miserable time growing virtually anything?

Maybe that was just my experience.

That being said, it seems quite unlikely that my water supply would have dwindled to the point that I am rationing water, but that’s where I’m at.

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04

Sep 2017

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The sting of working in the backyard

Earlier this summer, my eldest daughter came running into the house screaming and crying. She was working with a weed whacker trimming fence lines when she hit a nest of bees on the ground. When the first bee stung her, she thought she inadvertently touched a hot wire of the fence and kept trimming.

She’s a hard worker, that one.

When the second bee stung, she looked down and saw it on her leg, but swatted it away and continued working.

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28

Aug 2017

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Learning the hard way

Learning the hard way

I told you all a month or so ago about how I must give our pet turkey a greeting every morning before I leave for work. How he waits on the back porch every morning for me to come out the door. How he follows me down the sidewalk until I rub his face and neck and coo at him for a few minutes. It has become our morning tradition, and I’ll admit, we both enjoy it most days.

There are days that I simply don’t have time to stop and pet him. On those mornings that I am running late, he has taken to walking out in front of my car and standing there until I get out to pet him, or if I’m really late, I back up and drive around him. It was funny at first, but became a little irritating – and even a little scary – trying to ensure that I get around him without hitting him.

A couple of weeks ago the turkey apparently followed my husband down the sidewalk, anticipating the same kind of loving. Not aware of the rules, my husband brushed past him and climbed into his truck to head to the hayfield. (With appropriate days for the hayfield being so scarce, he was certainly in a hurry.) Roger was not put off by my husband’s brush off; he simply went and stood in front of the truck to await my husband as he does me.

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