Stories by Miles Venison
They went up the gentle hill from the horse yard and stopped at the wide dirt path that ran from the farmhouse all the way down to the front gate. On the other side of the path was the chicken yard. Hens and chicks scratched around in the dirt in front of the henhouse,... Continue Reading →
In the horse yard, Shem was studying half a carrot he had found in the grass, while Candace was standing right beside the old Clydesdale, talking almost too fast to make sense. “I always knew there was more to all this than just trudging around the sheep paddock eating grass,” she said. “I’d never... Continue Reading →
“Come on,” said Candace, skipping ahead. Shem and Delilah followed. The three sheep made their way across the cow paddock, until they came to the big barn. “Oh my!” said Delilah. The sheep stopped and stared in wonder at what lay inside: a mountain of stacked hay bales, machinery for milking cows, machinery for... Continue Reading →
The three young sheep trotted right up to the fence where the sheep paddock met the cow paddock. The fence posts were of old, thick timber and stood taller than the sheep. A timber rail stretched along the top of the fence, apart from one short section where the wood had rotted and collapsed.... Continue Reading →
Early the next morning, the chief rooster’s mighty crow trumpeted from the big white fencepost near the front gate. The animals began to stir. One by one the sheep crept out from the barn and into the chilly air and gentle sunlight. Beneath a clear blue sky, a hundred thousand lingering dewdrops had turned... Continue Reading →
Beyond the deep green and autumn red hills west of Butterberry Farm, a soft orange sunset bloomed. Shadows stretched across the low paddock south of the farmhouse. There the sheep strolled toward the shearing shed, to hear what Candace had assured them was an important message. Candace was one of the lambs born in... Continue Reading →
Every December when I was young, my family would pack two suitcases into the old station wagon and make the four-hour drive west to spend Christmas with my grandparents. Grandad and Nana lived on a farm. It was small compared to the neighbouring properties, but still big enough for us kids to have some great... Continue Reading →
In Search of Lost Marbles 