The Abandoned Farmers: His Humorous Account of a Retreat from the City to the FarmCobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
General
The Abandoned Farmers: His Humorous Account of a Retreat from the City to the Farm
Cobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
Farms -- Recreational use -- United States -- Fiction; Humorous stories
On the nearer bank, two miles away, the spires of the market town show
above the tree tops; on the further bank, six miles away, the rumpled
blue outlines of the Ramapo Hills bulk up against the sky line; and back
of those hills are sunsets such as ambitious artists try, more or less
unsuccessfully, to put on canvas.
All this had not cost so much as it might have, because all the interior
trim, all the doors and windows, and all the studs and joists and
beams had been reclaimed from the demolished main building. The chief
extravagances had been a facing of stonework for the garage front and a
stucco dress for the upper walls. We broke camp and moved in.
For a month or so we went along swimmingly. One morning we quit
swimming. All of a sudden we woke up to find there was no longer
sufficient water for aquatic pastimes.
The absolutely unprecedented dry spell that occurs every second or third
year in this part of the North Temperate Zone had descended upon us,
taking us, as it were, unawares. The brooks were going dry; the grass
on hillsides where the soil was thin turned from a luscious green to a
parched brown; and the mother spring of our seven up the valley, which
had gushed so plenteously, now diminished overnight, as it were, into
a puny runlet. There were no indications that the spring would be
absolutely dry; but there was every indication that it would continue
to lessen in the volume of its output--which it did. We summoned friends
and well-wishers into consultation, and by them were advised to dig an
artesian well.
We did not want to bother with artesian wells then. We were living very
comfortably upstairs over the garage and we were planning the house we
meant to build. We had drawn plans, and yet more plans, torn them up
and started all over again; and had found doing this to be one of
the deepest pleasures of life. Time without end we had conferred with
friends who had built houses of their own, and who gave us their ideas
of the things which would be absolutely indispensable to our comfort and
happiness in our new house. We had incorporated these ideas with a few
of our own, and then we had found that if we meant to construct a house
which would please all concerned, ourselves included, there would be
needed a bond issue to float the enterprise and the completed structure
would be about the size of a cathedral. So then we would trim down,
paring off a breakfast porch here and a conservatory there, until we
had a design for a compact edifice not much larger than an averagesized
railroad terminal.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account