Wednesday, August 1, 2018
I didn’t grow up on a farm. I never imagined myself a farmer…until I fell in love with one. Of our five daughters, only one showed a real interest in the farm. From the age of 15 she was here with us, birthing lambs, taming cows and training a donkey. At least once a week the Farmer had to go out and holler at Annie to put some shoes on. She would be out there barefoot in the barnyard in a bikini top and jean shorts, a baby duck under one arm and a lamb in the other.
Before long we could count on Annie to look after the farm in our absence. She saw things in a very practical way – she didn’t get upset over losses and she celebrated every little achievement, whether it was a healthy calf or a crop of tomatoes.
Annie grew up to have a little farm girl of her own. Leti is fascinated with the rooster next door, the tractor in the shed and the barn cats in the basement. Like me, she can do without the chickens. They peck. The other night Leti was here and the first thing she wanted to do after dinner was head to the barn.
“Well ok, but it’s going to be mucky,” I warned. It had rained quite a bit and the ground was very muddy.
“It’s ok Grandma,” she replied. “I like mucky.”
We got sidetracked on the way to the chickens. The farm equipment was parked in the barn, side by side.
“That’s a tractor,” Leti announced. “And that’s a four-wheeler.”
She studied the third item.
“You cut grass with it,” I hinted.
“Lawn mower!” she exclaimed, climbing aboard the ride-on mower.
She fiddled with the key but didn’t turn it. She jiggled the gear shift and patted the seat, looking behind her as if she was going to reverse out of the barn.
“Let’s do this!” she cried. I laughed.
“Your dad must say that.”
Leti’s dad has her feeding goats and pitching hay. She even went up to her other grandma while she was on her horse and demanded to be pulled up into the saddle. Later we looked at the pictures and I asked her about it.
“That’s Princess,” she said. “I was in the saddle.”
“I see that!” I said. “Were you scared?”
“No. Grandma was there. The horse was hot.” And she changed the subject, going off to look for her golf clubs.
If you are raised on a farm, you are accustomed to early mornings. There are lives in the barn, depending on your waking.
If you are raised on a farm, you live by the weather. Rain or lack of it, sun or lack of it affects everything from your crops to the hay you feed your livestock.
If you are raised on a farm, you know the pleasure and satisfaction of a hard day’s work. You don’t need a gym membership – you just need to get out there and hoe the garden, pitch the hay and muck out the stalls. After working up a sweat, you will appreciate the results of your efforts.
If you are raised on a farm, you know what it means to depend on your neighbours. You rely on them to tell you if they notice something strange – like a brush fire or a flood. You need to keep your relationship in good standing, because your cows might end up on their front lawn some misty morning.
If you are raised on a farm, you have a different outlook on life. You know where your food comes from. You have witnessed births, growth, harvest, and death. Life is less mysterious and startling when you live on a farm. It has a matter-of-fact quality to it, so it does.
A man who works the land has an honesty and integrity about him that is born out of life on the farm. A woman on the farm is in touch with nature and life and the power the earth holds.
We are not guaranteed Leti will be a farmer when she grows up. Maybe she will travel the world and settle in an exotic locale overseas. Maybe she will be drawn to the lights and noise of the city.
But I do know this. When Leti thinks of the comfort and safety of home, she will think of a farm.
Posted by Diana Leeson Fisher at 6:05 PM