Barbed Wire Wounds

I don’t really know how long I would have lasted in the nineteenth century. Last week in Widtsoe we put up a barbed wire fend to keep the free range cows away from our trailer. Paul is shown below putting the tie-ons on the metal poles. I hurt myself in multiple ways trying to help.

1. I have a huge bruise on my arm where the 50 pound roll of barbed wire rolled on it as we were carrying it on a spool.
2. I have multiple puncture wounds (even though I was wearing leather gloves–I needed body armor).
3. I bruised my pinky finger when a pole fell on it.
4. I burned the same pinky trying to fix dinner.
5. I tore my pants and my shirts (so did Paul!). I realize those aren’t wounds–except to my pride.

What would I be doing as a pioneer wife? A) Falling down the well? B) Dying in childbirth? C) Burning down the log cabin? D) All of the above. I think we all know the answer to that one.

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