So after much thought and contemplation. Confusion and Anguish. Trial and error. Yin and Yang. Frick and Frack. Arm and Hammer. Pork and Beans....
I have finally pin pointed exactly I want to do for the rest of my life
I want to be a farmer
really
I want to wake up to the rooster crowing
I want to wear jeans and poop kickers
I want to toil in the fields
I want to drive the cattle
I want to build wooden fences
I want to feast all summer on a garden of my creation
pick rock
move pipe
The Works
I know a few farmers
I am related to 'em
And I am sure they are reading this right now thinking
"Your namby pamby citified caboose doesn't know the first thing about it"
Well..... you've got a point, but don't think that is enough to stop me.
Because I just want that beautiful sweet sweet quiet. The smell of the damp earth. The crunching of gravel. I want to be forgotten and remembered. Not quite so accessible.
I want to be concerned when I hear sirens, not just annoyed
I want to teach my son to work with his hands
I want the big picture
Spare me the details
** I was just sitting in the tub shaving my other leg (because I only made it through one yesterday before my mind strayed yonder) and realized this post sounds strangely similair to a Dixie Chicks song...that's all
7 comments:
darn tootin' friend.
I grew up in a farm town and as a teenager swore I would NEVER marry a farmer. They work too many hours in the day and they are always dirty. Not my kind of fun. I wouldn't date one for the same reasons. When you do get your farm, I'll send Calder over to get his hands dirty as well.
Do it. And I'll buy my corn from you. Wink.
cowboy take me away? Come live west side with me
I'd pay good money to see you out on the farm.
That smarts a little Jungle Ex... that smarts
I'd love to see you as a farmer. Especially since it means you'd be in Idaho which is a lot closer to us than Chicago!!
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