My father grew up on a farm in Tillamook, Oregon...as I write that, I realize he speaks surprisingly little about what that was like. I would imagine that, if I'd grown up on a farm, I'd work it into a lot of conversations...but then, maybe I think that because I didn't grow up on one and If I had, I would just as soon rather not talk about about it, thank you very much. Hmmm. I'll have to ask my father about it and see if he avoids the subject.
Regardless, having been unexplicably deprived of any firsthand accounts of life on the farm, I am left free to create my own ideas of what it must be like...with a little help from movies, books and the few times I visited a farm in Mexico. As I am the foremost authority on what I think, I can tell you at least one thing with the utmost confidence: Life on the farm is hard.
That's right, take it from someone who thinks he knows. Farm life is not the wonderworld of fresh milk and produce many think it is. Sure, when I look back on what I imagine it was like to grow up on a farm, I have to admit it was great to know exactly where everything on your table came from. But mainly, I remember how much hard work it was. From the crack of dawn to the end of the day, it was one chore after another. You do these chores because you have to, whether you feel great or not, because if you don't the whole process breaks down.
Today was a day on the farm. True, I wasn't rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn, and there weren't cows to milk and eggs to collect...but I felt like crap, and there was stuff to do. Spring is coming faster than I can say "Vacation in Mexico" and the garden needs some serious prep work, the deck (did I tell you I'm building a deck?) has been stuck in "almost finished" mode for weeks, and my creek...we won't talk about my creek right now. Long story. OH and for the record, there are crops to plant and see to in our backyard but, on our farm, farming is women's work and Sharon has her own blog. Hehe.
In any case,there was work to be done and I really wasn't feeling it. But I took a guilt trip out back while we drank our coffee and had to admit it was time to get down to it.
So we did. Sharon turned soil, hunted slugs and ants, and threw down some seed, I cut back all the overgrowth and dead branches that had accumulated over the winter, then sat in the sun and drove screws into the decking. We worked good and hard, straight through lunch and into the early afternoon. At the end of it, though my head was pounding with a headache and I was cranky with hunger, I looked around and had to admit I was glad I was there.
See that's the thing about life on the farm. I work hard, whether I want to or not, but at the end of the day I can look around and feel like I did something. In the spring, you will see beautiful new growth and probably not have a passing thought about the green waste bin full of clippings I filled today. You may never notice the straight lines of screws across the deck by the creek, but I know what it felt like to kneel on the wood and drive each one in. My knees hurt, by lower back aches and I have a crick in my neck, but I feel good. Remember that, the next time you're sitting at your desk, staring at a computer screen doing something that means nothing. Read what I wrote today, feel the bruises on your knees and the stiffness in your back, and remember what matters most. Your real life. So suck it up, do your chores during the week, and maybe we can spend next Saturday on the farm, too.
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