Day 6

We went to Carriage Hill Historical Metro Park today. We started off by listening to a book written about farming in the 19th century. Then we wrote a short story, or poem from the perspective of something in the 19th century farm. My short story was about a grandfather clock, and how she feels about the life on the farm. We went to the Carriage Hill farm after writing. We explored the blacksmith shop, Arnold house and kitchen garden. Then we watched about Emma Arnold’s life on the farm and the different things that she had to do, to support the farm business.

I learned many things from the experience on the farm. Such as during the summer they cook outside in the summer kitchen to make sure the house is cool and in winter they cook inside to keep the house warm. Then they even had their own graveyard with their own family members. They had a huge collection of animals, it held some of the biggest horses, these horses were used to plough the field pull the wagon. The life on the farm was very private, everything they could ever need could be made, or found in the farm.

Short story :

On the wall was a dusty, older grandfather clock but hardworking clock. It has been in the house since the farm was built to this day impresses its masters by still serving the family generations after. The children say this is Old Rickety as it fingers move through the hours, minutes and seconds. In the farm everything must be done according to time and this clock was the only one in this house.

Out the window the country side was peaceful, silent except for the sound of the crickets on a warm dewy morning.

The sun was starting to peek through the clouds.

It was almost time for the first bell

As the rooster began to get up on top of the coop and started its call.

The hour struck five and freighted the rooster making its call much louder.

The clock and rooster rang in harmony to start the day on the farm.

This was the most important job for a clock thought to herself, her original name was Victoria.

She enjoyed watching the children play, as their playful smiles and laughs filled her up with joy.

She rang every hour showing the silver fork on the hour.

She sat in a walnut box with glass in front of her blocking her way

She tried peeking through to get a glimpse of the life around her.

As night started to fall upon the countryside her bells started to ring like the first time she rang.

Slowly she sang the children goodnight beside their beds, for the end of a good day.