Saturday, April 23, 2011

Farm Blog Archives: April 2, 2009

April 2, 2009

I know they're there. The less obvious things that make men and women different creatures. But I've been having some interesting points driven home to me since I moved to the farm.
I am a great helper.:) I can fetch tools, haul lumber, pick things up from the store, cook, bring lemonade, hold things, find things, entertain children, and help in any other way that is needed to get the job done. But when it comes to the actual job, I suck.
I can make the house pretty, but I can't make the house. I can plant the garden and make it grow, but I can't erect a fence to keep things out of it. I can feed and exercise and care for animals, but I can't build the fence to keep them in.
In essence, I'm a great nurturer....not so much on the protecting front. If the dog barks, I don't want to go see why....I want to call someone to go see.:)
I find it interesting because although these are things I've known are hardwired into us, I've never had them illustrated quite so well for me.
Can I build a fence? Yes. But it takes me about 20 times longer than it does the guy who wanders by and takes pity on me. Okay, actually he managed to complete the whole thing in the same time I took trying to get the damn posts over to where they needed to be. (Those things are heavier than they look!) I work from sun up to sun down and still have almost nothing done. It's pretty frustrating.:) But at least I'm having fun with it.
The farm is more than I thought it would be. I knew the sunsets were amazing. I knew that I loved it there. I knew it was mine. What I didn't fully understand was that this small piece of land owns me more completely than I can ever own it. I get the most amazing sense of satisfaction when I look and see what is becoming and what will be. I'm learning a patience that I've never had. Although I want it all done, (NOW!), I know that if I take my time it will be great and mine.
The prairie has always had a special voice for me. I think it's because it is the one place that I can almost see the covered wagon trains crawling along. The chisolm trail went through here, Plains Indians followed the buffalo over my land. The history has always fascinated me, it's why all history can seem so alive for me.
My family lived what I've read about in the history books in a place I live now. With every bucket of water I draw, with every step I take, with every sky I watch for weather I follow their steps. When the dust blows I get a taste of what drove people from their farms in search of a life during the dust bowl. A couple weeks ago I watched the dust filter through the cracks of the same door that my grandfather would have watched. I can imagine how intense it would have been with a hard drought and no erosion control.
And I am amazed.
I stand in complete awe of those who came before me. We have all heard about the incredible people who settled the West. The men and women who left behind everything they had ever known in search of Hope, New Beginnings, The Future. Yes, the words are always capitalized inside my head. Those are such big things that there is no way to express them with mere words. They are ideas, and the best writers I've ever read can only brush against the edges of their meaning.  But when you feel it, you know why that is.

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