Just Say No

Earlier I was talking with my friend, let’s call her Amy.  She lives just up the road from me. Awesome gal – really doing things right and teaching her children how to live.  She brings joy to everyone she meets – I’ve never seen anything quite like it.  She surrounds herself with beautiful things – antiques, flowers, animals and children and you can’t help but be uplifted when you spend any amount of time with her.  But enough of the mush…

She and her family farm as well.  Big time.  I’m talking hundreds of acres big time.  And it’s been a tradition in her bones for many lifetimes before, I’m sure.  She’s one of those people that are born to farm.  She naturally takes to coaxing things out of the earth and making them useful.  She makes her own soap, her own candles, her own teas and tinctures.  You can understand why I feel slightly less than my best around her.

I’m the gal that stands in the garden asking everyone the following questions:

“Are you feeling hot or is it just me?”

“What time to you think we should head in?” (After five minutes of being outside…)

“HOLY CRAP!! Did you see the size of that bee?? ”

“What level SPF do you think is best under a sun as hot as this one…?”

“It’s just so dirty out here.”

 “Seriously.  Are you hot because I am BURNING UP?”

I just don’t get farming you know? I mean I get it in theory, but I tend to fall apart when it comes to the actual “doing it” part. I actually really enjoy growing flowers and herbs but not the rest of the stuff. Not the really tough stuff. It truly makes me feel like a bad person to not enjoy farming.  Shouldn’t I have feelings of elation digging in the dirt? Shouldn’t I rejoice when I get the chance to dig in fresh compost? Yeah? No.  It’s not for me. 

Which stinks because, well, it’s what Joe wants to do.  So I do my best to cheer (and sometimes jeer) from the sidelines.  I try to take him the mandatory lemonade and sandwich in the middle of the day (though I regularly forget or just go get it from Subway).  I try to help when I can, if I happen to be the only one standing there.  I mean really, the only person for miles around.

I guess I’ve always been more of a bookworm.  Totally content to snuggle up with a good book and a cup of tea.  A contemplative person really, not so much into all that “hard work” business I suppose.  I far prefer the winter months when you are FORCED to be inside.  You must stay in due to the weather and that’s precisely what I want to do.  Fill up the woodstove, pick a good book, heat up some tea and relax.

ANYWAY, back to my conversation with Amy…

I mentioned to her that we needed some hay for our goats.  She leaned in, just a little, and said, “We’ve got some really good stuff right now.”

“Really good,” I ask?

“Really good,” she assures me.

We’re inching closer together just a bit when she looks to the side and then back to me and says in a hush, “He won’t even tell me which barn it’s in.”

My eyes grow wide and I look around then whisper back, “I have to call him.”

Then my eyes fill with concern.  “What about your goats? Do they need some?”

She looks down, “He says they’ve been spoiled and they can’t have anymore.”

“Listen,” I say, “Let me help you out.”

“How?” she asks, looking at me with her eyes wide.

I begin to weave my plan. “I’ll tell him I need a certain amount – like 20 when I really only need 15.  I’ll put the extra aside for you to come and get whenever you’re ready.  I’m all in if this is a “dark of night” mission – dressed in black, crawling through the mud to make the delivery.  Whatever it is.  I’m in.  Unless, I guess, it’s really late.  I kind of start to lose steam around 9:00ish so anytime before that would be great.  Really all in!!”