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Jack and Poky, whispering sweet nothings and trading grooming:

Chicken, thinking:

“Did I lay my egg today?”

“How many times have I pooed today?”

“I’m getting a pen! I need to start writing this stuff down!”

Girl, not afraid of chicken poo:

Evidence–barefoot.

She’s a braver person than me.
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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7:49
pm
Have you two been riding Zip? And have you visited Patriot?
7:55
pm
Ann/alba
8:03
pm
Having grown up on a farm, we never went barefoot – too many stickers around, plus we didn’t have a lot of grass, either. And my mom was also a REAL stickler for making us wear shoes!
9:59
pm
tammy
10:19
pm
10:43
pm
2:03
am
Anyone else able to use their toes/feet to pick stuff up? They make a nice adjunct to your hands.
9:31
am
We got so used to being bare footed, we could run on the rocks. If we did step in poo, we would run over to the garden hose and wash it off. When it would rain, it would feel good to let the mud ooze up between our toes. If it was a warm rain, some times we got to run in it and get all wet The joys of growing up on the farm.
9:49
am
I remember as a child on my Grandparents and Aunts farm stepping in chicken poo while going barefooted, you would have the shy was falling, it sort of squishes up between your toes UGH!!
10:15
pm
8:39
pm