Today we took a trip to Carriage Hill, which resembles a 19th century farm. There we got to explore the different farm animals they had there, we saw horses, goats, and sheep. Alex and I then walked down to the creek where we took off our shoes and walked around in it. The rocks hurt our feet, but the cool water felt nice on the hot day. After lunch, Alex and I took a long walk around the park and through the creek. Walking in the creek took longer than we expected. My favorite part is when we walked in the creek, although it was long and difficult it seemed adventurous. I liked going on a path that others may not have gone through before.
Here is a short narrative I wrote in the perspective of somebody living on a 19th century farm:
The sound of the roosters woke me up early this morning. I got up, made my bed, and dressed for the day before going down to the kitchen to boil some water for tea. I hear the sound of my younger siblings starting to wake up; I tell them to be quiet before they wake up our mother; she’s been working very hard lately, so I try to let her sleep in. I collect some vegetables from the garden and eggs from the chicken coup to make some breakfast for my family. My younger siblings helped me set the table while I woke up my mother. She thanked me but told me that I didn’t need to make breakfast for the family, that she could handle it.
Later that afternoon she told me to ask the boy who lived at the nearby farm if he could help us with some work around here. I told her yes because I don’t argue anymore, I just wish she would let me do more than watch my siblings, cook, and clean. She tells me women don’t do farm work, and that’s just the way it is.
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