Once upon a time, there was (and still is) a cow named Freda. She was born by accident one night, when her owner was making the 50th Easter Bunny to aid the local primary school, which her daughter (aka at the time "The Princess") was attending. Fed up with Easter bunnies - I made a few changes and voila, Freda arrived..
Her first few years were spent on our property, happily grazing, or at udder times, sitting on our dresser in the family room. She lived a life bovine, wanting for nothing. She was a contented cow - until......
It was at a pre-retreat Scquilters shindig at my home, that, not just Freda, but three of her friesians friends were ......Shock! Horror! ....cow-napped. I was so...well actually, I didn't notice my cowslipped away - until........
At the retreat, I herd the odd whisper that all was not as I left it back in the milking shed. I was asked some strange questions, the tone of which (I had lived on our family's dairy farm for my first 19 years) started to make me feel in a strange mooed. Then it arrived, the first missive from the cownappers. There was no ransom mention, but I realised that this was no bull. I was filled with hilarity...oops, hysteria. That night, with due ceremony (they really miked it for all it was worth), one of Freda's friends was returned to me. Much more milking went on over the course of the retreat - those cow rustlers had a very good sense of humour - as well as a hastily purchased printer to provide proof that Freda was still alive - visiting Hilly, and with empty bottles - am not sure which would have removed her innocence more - and mine, I was so shy back then!
I returned to my pasture with all her friends, but no Freda. There was an empty place on the shelf - would it be forever? Would Freda be tuned into beef? I would be loin if I said I was not udderly bereft.
Then this arrived:: -
I felt bovine - I knew she was safe. But whose sewing room was she in?
Ah! I had a clue! The "In the Beginning" quilt shop. She was buying mooterial in Seattle - a place and shop I knew well. Butter I was beginning to put two and three together as to her cownappers.
Another well known place - should my fear be curd, or is Freda Boeing, boeing gone? Will she be rustled once more? Will I not see her for bull dust? Is she off the The Mooditeranian? Mooami?
But wait! There I am, up in Sydney at the Quilt Show dinner and who is on my table but the good old milker herself. I was udderly beside myself.....until.....
I made a dreadful mistake - you can guess - separatored once more.
A little later, at the Melbourne Quilt Show dinner, two so- called detectives arrived and asked for moi. Freda had boon found, drunk and disorderly and in moral (or was it mortal?) danger. Relieved as I was that they weren't there to arrest me, I was sorely disappointed in my previously unsoiled friesian. We hoofed it home and Freda was most cowtrite - she had been drugged, threatened with the knackers, but had also had a funbag time!
For quite a number of years - she was back to her sober self, grazing happily once more on our pasture and making lots of bovine friends. She became a little frisky, until I ran a "Cows on the Run" block swap.
It was a huge success - alas I cannot find the picture of mine. But there should be many Freda quilts around.
Things settled down again - until.......
The cow took over my Facebook page as follows:
4th day and it's four call girls. You can see what I mean by her getting frisky!
The 6th day involved 6 geese NOT laying - facing madam La Guillotine. How do we keep Freda down on the farm after she's seen Paris!
On the 7th day of Christmas her true love (s) gave her 7 swans for plucking.
On the 8th day there were 8 pins a rolling over Freda
And that my friends is the tail of Freda - udderly lost and in need of a new project.
Her biographer,
Helen
I remember it well. Great fun. Thanks for reminding us.
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