Sounds of Farm Life

Farm life has its sound track, from roosters crowing in the morning to the grunt of eager pigs as soon as they see movement from the back door. There’s the moo-ing and the baah-ing, the clucking and the cackling. And there’s the gentle ripping sound of grass being munched away in the pasture.

There’s other farm sounds too, like the starting rev of the old tractor, the buzz of the lawnmower, and watery hiss of the irrigation system. Sounds unmistakable to farming like rustling bedding in the barn, accompanied by the calls of barn swallows overhead.

So this last week, with the three-word poetry challenge at our Thursday gatherings (only three of those left, so come on over), farm sounds came to mind.

Three-word poetry challenge: row, axe, bleat

They say that pictures tell a thousand words
But sounds do as well.
The concert of the farm never quite leaves you
When you’ve learned its rhythms
In your bones.

The crack of the axe against the hardened maple
As the crispness of autumn crunches the dried leaves.

The bleat of newborn lambs
And the mother’s deep-throated response,
Acknowledging the new life under her care.

The creak of the barn door
With the rustle of hooves on straw.
Eager quadruped voices cacophonous in greeting
Expecting breakfast hours before
My own tea kettle will whistle.

The click of the scuffle hoe as I make my way
Down the garden row
Imagining I can hear the weeds screaming.

The clank of the old hay baler—and which clangs were normal
And which meant a sheared pin
Or hours of repair under the summer sun.

The way the leaves in the old maples change their whispers
When a rainstorm is approaching.

The gentle clucking questions of sassy hens
As I approach the coop at dusk
Locking their door by headlamp.

The whistle in the water pipes
When I finally get back to the house
For a shower.

The snap of green beans in the bowl
Prepared for the boiling pot of water on the stove.

That sound for which there are no words
When you pull that hand-made quilt over your shoulders
At day’s end.

***

What are some of your farm sound memories? Milk squirting into the metal pail, barn cats meowing in expectation? The expectant cries of bottle lambs from their box by the wood stove? The peeping of baby chicks?

This week, take time to share or capture those little memory details. Save them up for a good story. And bring them to share this Thursday (5 to 8 pm) during our gathering of word-lovers down on the farm.