"The monotony of farm life." I wonder how that phrase originated? It is actually appeared in print but have any of you found it in actual life? Remember, how short a time ago it was that we were all excited over the beginning of gardening and the starting of baby chicks and the delay in farming caused by the heavy and continuous rains? And now before we have got our breath, the fields have grown lush and green, and the grain has turned paler and paler until it glistens in pale gold. It has been cut and shocked and tomorrow we'll thresh. Harvest is the turning point of the busy summer, and then after the rush of threshing there is the annual breathing spell when we have time to pick up the loose ends that we have been obliged to hang while the bulk of the work went on. Now is the time for a few days vacation for farm folk, if they have a vacation at all. Now is the time to plan on saving flower seed and bulbs, and consider layout out of next year's improvements in the farm and grounds, the lawns and fences. Now is the strenuous canning season, from now until frost. Then before we know it, the children must be ready for school, and the sewing must be done, and the house must be cleaned, all in time for the winter's round of meetings and holidays.
Ruth and the boys spent the early forenoon helping the men pick cucumbers, and for reward get to ride with the cucumbers to the factory. Clumsy big Fido and little whirlwind Betty follow them everywhere they go. The lusty little Leghorns fill the air all day long with their crowing. Sunny says with the twinkle inside that they say "feed the roo-roo-roosters!" And he answers them occasionally. "you are fed!" The new little white belted pigs are source of endless delight. Enumerable kittens help make life interesting. The new cat or two for pets crowd out the ones so dear for last spring, Butter and Goody and the rest. Wilbur and Ruth are counting the days until school begins. Sonny and I are wondering how we will get along without them. We have to be each other's pals. When threshing is done, we will make a flying trip to the other grandma's – and then we must settle down again to that so-called "Monotony of farm life." – Hope.