Happy Birthday, Hay Mother!

Our blue Volvo, which performs the weekly magic trick of disgorging several delicious 90 pound bales of orchard grass hay from it's hatch in back, is going to have a birthday this weekend. Volvos, like mules, live a little longer than most people expect them to. This particular station wagon was assembled on March 21st, in a year long since obscured in the mists of forgotten history. I am not sure that the Volvo would want its age broadcast too loudly on this terribly public world wide web, but I will say that it was assembled before FarmWife entered kindergarten and also around the time of the first untethered human space walk, the introduction of crack cocaine to America, the debut of the Apple Macintosh, and the birth of transformers (More Than Meets The Eye!). Let's just say . . . no spring chicken.

This blue Volvo has recently suffered the extinction of the fuse that powered the instrument panel, as well as a bulb in the near fore turn signal. Otherwise, FarmWife reports that it is going strong! Not bad, blue Volvo! Not bad at all. (Tap hoof on wood.)


Joining the ranks of the inspiring elderly is Connie Reeves, the now deceased "American Cowgirl" who is shown here riding in her 101st year of life. FarmWife needs to observe this carefully. You see, FarmWife occasionally worries that she is squandering her prime of life with such business as working, studying, and raising children. These, she thinks, are years that ought to be spent riding. Never fear, say I. When you, FarmWife, are 45 years old, and I, Fenway Bartholomule, am 30, you will have an Empty Nest. We will go out, then, FarmWife, and we will have our adventures. Hilltopping, CTRs, hunter paces, schooling shows, lessons, pack trips . . . life awaits us, FarmWife, and your bucket list will still be there, pending a 2012 apocalypse.


Many of you will have heard of the passing of Elmer Bandit, the Arabian horse who was a healthy competitive trail horse at 37 and euthanized at 38. Not bad, for a horse! Now, my reasoning goes that I am half as horse as he, and therefore should expect to live twice as long. Of course, according to some sources, the oldest horse reliably recorded was the 62 year old Old Billy, so let's assume a nice round 100 years as my target. Easy, peasy.


With longevity of service being the mule's legacy, and running in FarmWife's human family as well, I see no problem with assuming that FarmWife and I have a dozen or so decades of happy trails ahead of us. Let us hope, dear Readers, that the sweet blue Volvo and its sweet green hay continue to thrive alongside.


Your friend,
Fenway