My granddad's old house had a well. Unlike this man...I never fell in it...but I imagine I was well protected by family, so that I wouldn't.
Granddad's house was out in the country in the outskirts of Evansville...in southern Indiana...in a little burg called Lynnville. I was probably only 5 or 6 or 7 when I recall going to granddads there.
There was no running water at granddads. The '2 seater' outhouse was across the drive from the house...near the hen house. I seem to recall a pump in the kitchen, that you had to prime with a little water to get it going.
Outside the back door was 'the well'. I don't remember if it was ground level or up off the ground a little. I do remember granddad and dad dropping the bucket into the well...rocking the rope a little so that the bucket would tip over into the water and begin filling up...and then pulling the full bucket up.
I don't recall ever being scolded for nearly falling into the well...so I assume granddad had it covered in a way that I couldn't get hurt.
I never fell in the well...but my brother will remind me until my last days...of getting flogged by the rooster out in the barnyard. He never fails to get a giggle out of recalling that event.
Aren't big brothers great!
Dan
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Bwahahahahaha.. Well, it was better than a flogging! You should have kept up with us. We were walking from the barn to the house and Dan was trailing along, then, out of the blue and scaring us to death we hear, whaaaaaaaaaaiiieeee, and turn to see Danny running in a circle with the rooster hot on his heels and madder than hell. Dad saved him in the nick of time. I'd say Dan was six or seven.
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