Life on a farm
Is never Boring
Each and every day’s activities
Are Tangible.
The yard adds an expansive bit of work
Each ‘job’
Every bit of movement
Is a note on a scale
writing a symphony
A series of rhymes
That will complete itself at harvest.
A bit of magic to give back to the Earth
At the same time giving us the joy of work.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
Not only filling your eyes, ears, nose, and HAIR
Full of dirt!
It has a tendency to whip your words away!
.Even on a clear day the dirt devils fling bits of this and that here and Up THERE!
In spite of all that…Linkin found a Heart Rock just for me! (and for her)
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
You come back feeling an electric zing of
REFRESHMENT!
Nothing like the wind in your hair, a fast car, and a break from all the work!
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
When Dad goes out to the farm with one of his HUGE, BIG, LOUD machines
Mom goes into her yard, or out by the farm buildings, or into the corrals, or something or other.
The second I hear the back door open and then shut
I know Mom is outside somewhere.
Someplace.
Somewhere.
I stop what I’m doing and start looking for Mom.
Sometimes I look for Mom in a sneaky way—like hide here and there.
Hide under this.
Or that.
Then I walk very quietly to Mom
Sit down and wait for Mom to notice me.
Other times I run down the road
As fast as I can.
Soon as I get to Mom, I start rubbing myself all along her legs.
Either way, Mom always stops and gives me really nice rubs and pets
Then Mom ‘gets to work’
Sometimes that means dragging the hose all over the lawn
Or loading up the wheel barrels with shovels, rakes, and the hoe
Other times it means Mom sits down on the side of the flowerbeds and starts grabbing the weeds
No matter what Mom starts doing I hang around with her
I hang around
And around
And—
This is so sooooo boring.
I don’t mind waiting and waiting if there is a mouse to torment
catch
But just laying in the shade, under a big leaf, waiting on Mom
IS—-
I’m done!
See you later, there are things to do, and mice to catch!
TLC Cai-Cai
WOW! Look at this!!!
Gotta hurry and scarf this down
Maybe just pack the cheeks and take it home.
Later that day —
I smell FOOD!
I know I do
Where is the food? There are little chips all over the place.
Well, clean up the crumbs as fast as I can.
What?!
Gone?
Even the crumbs?!
Even the crumbs!
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
A year ago, on May 4th I had
a four-wheeler wreck when the shovel I was carrying
Slipped and flipped under the back tire wheel
I broke the knuckle straight across and knocked a chip out of it.
Well, time moves on. The physicians told me there really wasn’t anything they could do.
It would heal over time; ceasing to hurt.
It healed but it never stopped hurting.
Then around the last of this April, I tripped on the Gas hose, while fueling my car.
This time I knocked the little joint out of place
Causing more pain to an already continuously painful finger
So—in making a long story short.
The hand specialist said there is nothing to be done. He said lots of other things and advised me on the purchase of a glove, to rest the tendons, and take pain meds.
Arthritis has taken over the first knuckle and will take over the tiny knuckle at the tip.
It just is how it is.
So there you have it: pain, lingering, hovering, whispering constantly—letting me know I have a little finger, which now hangs outside of the normal part of my hand, catching on things, finding little ways to let me know—
I carried the shovel in the wrong spot on my four-wheeler. Just in case I forget when I go out to change the water.
🙂
Just in case.
🙂
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
Life on a Colorado Farm 