Furs on the Farm

By: Clare

As I glance carelessly out the window, giant snowflakes are racing each other down from the sky to the ground, where they have collectively formed a white blanket over and across the wintry Wisconsin woods. The weathermen have predicted more than a foot of snow for today, and every school in the surrounding vicinity is canceled for the day. For a while I was content to wander aimlessly about the house, periodically checking Facebook and trying (and failing) to get the Netflix to load. And then, suddenly, I was hit with a brilliantly irrational..idea..

Next week, Mary is traveling to Pittsburgh to visit Kate for a few days. She’ll be taking along with her an assortment of various items that were left behind by our classy Grandma Slattery after she passed on. Next week Kate will not only be the proud owner of the usual china plates and cups, but also of the two impractical fur coats that our grandmother used to wear, along with a bright red pleather jacked. These coats weren’t originally supposed to go exclusively to Kate, but we knew as soon as we saw them that they just might not be the right fit for winter weather on an organic farm. For our own entertainment, we decided we might give you a little glimpse on the practicality of furs and pleather on the farm..

The one plus of a good fur coat is that it makes for a very classy glass of wine, even if it may be the middle of winter, and you are sitting precariously on a rusted blue metal folding chair.

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The fur coat I sported was heavy and cracking, and it all together felt like I was wearing a blanket of lead.
Also, I am somewhat ashamed to admit I have a bit of a phobia of chickens.

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Perhaps this is because I spent much of my childhood running from the many roosters we owned that liked to chase little kids down and peck at their bare legs.

This is generally my attitude towards them.

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I was wearing a lead blanket (not to mention the stiletto boots I was stumbling around the farmyard in), and I was in the midst of a little house filled with big chickens. While our old lab chewed on a thousand year old carcass of something or other below my boots.

Well played, Mary (who was gleefully laughing as she snapped photos), well played.

Alright, time to play the tough girl.

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Once I got over my discomfort, I began to glamorously collect the eggs.

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Oh, beautiful little egg.

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How, glorious, how positively divine.

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If there’s one thing that we do on the farm in winter, its haul, cut, collect, and stack wood. The wood stove doesn’t run itself!
Maybe this bright red pleather jacket would be a good suit for the job..

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Now that I’ve collected the wood, maybe I should stare off into the distance and ponder life’s greatest mysteries for a while. This coat makes you want to do that – solve mysteries, fight crime.

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The glamour leaves me, along with my sense of balance, as soon as I step outside the barn.

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Maybe this outfit isn’t so practical for hauling wood.

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We couldn’t help but pull out the white, fur-trimmed cape from one of Mary’s recent stunts as a winter bridesmaid as well. And it turns out fur capes aren’t very good for helping big brothers for carpentry projects, either.

Whaddya think, Rob?

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Judging by his tight smile, I’m guessing its a no.

They do look dramatic set against the backdrop of a tall, red-brick German church, however.

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Yes, I’m betting these coats will be much more at home on Kate as she parades through Pittsburgh than weighing me down in my daily work in Wisconsin.

Good-bye, impractical jackets, and thanks for the snow day entertainment!

 

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