Peaches went to the Pacific Northwest Fall Equinox Festival, got excited, and decided that she just had to take up drumming. The Little Witches have always been supportive of creativity but this development rides the farm at Panther Creek on currents of ambivalence. Oh, have no doubt, everyone is tickled about drumming during meditations and circles and delighted that Peaches has found a passion. No one ever begrudges Peaches her passions. Alas, Peaches her mind to be "the perfect" drummer for The Little Witches' next gathering. Hour after hour for days after day, nights after night, Peaches practices. Peaches beats. Peaches drums. Not well, but robustly; Peaches drums with great enthusiasm. In the morning after chores, during breakfast, while driving the tractor, Peaches drums. Evenings that were once devoted to talking, navigating the net, or reading are now filled with the incessant throbbing, rapping, pounding of Peaches' drum.
There have been some studies that show that cows will produce more milk and chickens will lay more eggs when they are exposed to classical music. That's probably true. That axiom comes unglued and the bottom falls out when applied to drumming. The chickens on the farm at Panther Creek have conspired to do a production slow down in protest of the rhythm method. Twenty percent less eggs in the first week alone. The cows are irritable. Milking an irritable cow is a risky adventure. The turkey has taken refuge on the roof. And Himself, the Rooster, no longer crows.
The whole drumming business peaked when Peaches decided that drum therapy would restore Himself's imperial crow. To get Himself to stay put for this important therapeutic treatment, Peaches went out and gathered a crock full of slugs. Himself used to love slugs. Then while Himself was busy feasting, Peaches stood behind him, placed the drum over his head and began to beat... slow, loud, reverberating, penetrating...slowly faster and louder, faster and louder. You know... a drum therapy. Himself vanished. Peaches stood alone with her drum and a half eaten pot of slugs.
When Lamprey Himself nesting in her closet, no doubt decorating her robes and skeins, she called an emergency gathering of the Little Witches Coven and Marching Society. Rarely have the Little Witches gathered with such gusto. Not even when Chester used a salt lick as an altar -- in an attempt to boost his hunting success and Pan showed up instead of a buck -- have the Little Witches displayed such eagerness. Though determined, they reminded each other to be kind.
The Little Witches debated far into the night as only little witches can in a time honored tradition passed from generation to generation in secret ceremonies. More than once Lamprey threatened to "lay down the law." Several coven members thoughtfully pointed out to Lamprey that she was High Priestess not Benevolent Despot, which of course chaffed. Consensus has always been long-winded, but in the end, Peaches agreed to "cut back" on the incessant pounding and the Little Witches agreed they would spring for drumming lessons. Lamprey had a bad case of the sulks but they didn't last long, and Himself still avoids Peaches and slugs.
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