ReluctantFarmChick.com

Every time I‘m compelled invited encouraged commanded begged I go out for farm stuff, there are certain things I must take with me.  By now you’d think I’d a) know exactly what I need; or at the very least b) have a spot for all these things.  But no.  That’s not how my amazing brain works.  See, the longer it takes me to remember, but more importantly find these essentials, the longer I delay the inevitable.  Sometimes I go so far as to get to the job site, only to have to return for something.  Just writing about it amazes me - this is exactly what totally annoys me about my kids - their endless delay tactics.  Hmmmm.  They DO learn by example (note to self:  only use delay tactics when kids aren’t watching).

It’s hard to say which one has highest priority.  The things I most easily grab are

and

because these are things I grab every time I leave the house, regardless of my activity.

The other thing that should be fairly natural and habitual for me, but isn’t is:

I need to be taking these every day because life without them is just a drip drag.  I can’t make sense of what exactly I’m allergic to, because sometimes I’m exposed to NOTHING and I about drown in my own . . . you know.  And other times I’m out there working my butt off and breathing in all kinds of toxins, and I’m totally fine.  I’m putting an end to that - hopefully - with a visit to a new allergist lady from Egypt who started taking patients in a nearby office.  Appointment is made.  Hope she knows her stuff, because . . . because I need her to.

The next item that usually is a no-brainer for me to grab, and I basically know where it is (at least one of three places it probably got put) is my favorite hat.  I actually put this in Prince Farming’s Christmas stocking one year, but I have since annexed it back.  I like it because it has a good fit, my pony tail can hang out the back, and the bill/shade thingy is long enough to keep the sun off my face mostly.  And I also LOVE what it says (which is why I bought it in the first place, but obviously "Boss-hood" has switched hands.

Now come the things that I struggle with.  Not on purpose.  Not because I want to.  It just happens.  I really need to ALWAYS take these with me

so that my nails don’t look worse than this when I  get back from work (this was obviously a SHORT work time - normally I have to go mining to make them look almost this good).        

Actually I count myself lucky.  With a trip coming up, I could have BET that a nail would break or get ripped off at the quik.  Most of the time my nails break doing something that should not cause such damage.  Harmless things like closing the trunk on my car or filling the tank with gas.  I’m holding my breath - only 2 days to go.  Watch me break a nail in the airport.

I have been known to start working without gloves, and then remember that they are part of my essential set, so I buzz back up to the house and grab them.  And a drink.  And switch the laundry over from the washer to the dryer.  And check to make sure my son flushed his toilet.  And clean my sunglasses.  And put the last few dishes in the dishwasher and start it.  And then buzz back down to wherever Prince Farming has me working.  Of course it’s not long before I desperately need this.   I don’t always buy water, because we have fantastic spring water on the farm.  Mostly I have bottled water and then refill the bottles several times till they’re just too trashed to be used anymore.  I always have bought water on hand because sometimes the rain causes our water to get muddy cloudy.  But that’s a post all on it’s own.

One of Prince Farming’s pet peeves is when I show up ill-equipped to work.  Most of the time the cause is probably my feet.  I’ve already told you I don’t want a boot tan.  So I farm in flip flops (sorry - forgot the picture for that one - might insert it later).  But in a perfect world on a perfect farm day, I’d show up for Prince Farming fully dressed, including (but not limited to) these:

 For those who know me, I don’t have to explain why I use “reluctant” in my blog name.  Or maybe I do.    Does it mean I’m reluctant to live on a farm?  Or that I don’t enjoy my environment?  Or . . . ?  Where does this reluctance come from? 

 Actually, if you would have told me 10 years ago that I’d be living on a farm and doing farm chores, I would have snickered a whimpy little “yeah, right!”  But here I am, on a farm, and when the need arises, I do farm chores.  Yeah!  Right!  It’s me.  When I think about it beyond the “I should be painting my toe-nails and eating bon-bons” scenario, I believe my reluctance isn’t so much what you all might think it is.  Let me work it through on this live journal page.

Prince Farming works at the office most of the week.  His day off is Thursday (which isn’t “off” at all – it just means he works very hard at a different place on Thursday) and weekends.  He also gets home at varying times on other days, which allows him to work on the farm on most afternoons – especially in the summer time when the office isn’t so busy and the days are longer.   He is a work-a-holic and loves to get things done.  He is very project oriented, and he ALWAYS finishes the projects he starts.  That just amazes me, even after all these years.  I admire it in him.  That might also be part of my reluctance.  The farm is a project. . . and do farms ever “get done”?  Nope.  Always a fence to mend; barn to repair; hay to mow, rake, bale, and haul;  fields to clear; rocks to pick; cows to work; equipment to fix; etc. etc. etc.  

I like to mentally prepare for what I’m going to do.  And the farm doesn’t always allow one to plan or schedule work.  If the cows are getting out, they need to be herded back and the fence needs to be mended NOW, not when I have an open time-slot next week.  If I’m in the middle of a school project or have a scheduled work-bee, for example, but hay is ready NOW and it’s going to rain the next three days . . .  you get the picture.  So farming kind of ties one to the farm.  Maybe that’s my reluctance.  I’ve never lived anywhere for longer than 5 years – EVER .  (Well, except till now).  I love diversity.  It might be a character flaw, but after I’ve lived in a place for a while, it’s easy to just move away, because it’s like a fresh start.  A clean page.  I miss friends from places past, but then I have a great collection of kindred-spirits all over, and an excuse and destination to travel.  How lucky can a girl be?  And I love to travel.  But the more you do on a farm, the less you can get away.

Then comes the part about not failing.  If I do something, I don’t want it to be a disappointment to someone else.  So if I’m bush-hogging and an unsuspecting rock jumps out of the ground and kills the blade. . .I feel like I create more work than I save / do (very clumsy sentence).  Or if I’m mowing hay and snag the fence row, there’s wire to be run again.  I know that’s the cost of farming, and it happens to everyone.  I just take it personally.  And the learning curve for me on a farm is huge.  This is my first experience – while Prince Farming has been doing everything I do since he was 10 or 11 years old.  So he does it completely effortlessly.  I learn something one year (like mowing hay with that crazy off-to-the-side mowing arm thingy) and the next year (or at the end of the summer) I have to learn it again – (how do you turn on the PTO?  How to you raise the mower?  {No – DON’T raise it this year, it gets stuck and requires all sorts of repair if you do.  I’ll fix that this winter}  How fast should I go and in what gear? Where the heck are those holes that were so obvious 3 weeks ago, but now could kill the tractor and the mower (and me) if not avoided? etc. etc. )  And maybe it’s my age – or this stuff just doesn’t come naturally to me – I can’t even remember all the things I should ask!

Because of my farming inexperience, my jobs are often the most mundane.   I end up doing what I feel is “not much” (lots of standing around) because Prince Farming needs me to hold something in place, or hand him a tool, or go get something from the shed.  I know that my help is invaluable.  I just feel like in between times there are sixty loads of laundry I could be doing, or washing windows (what a joke – but it goes through my mind in times like these) or stamping, or reading, or painting my nails and eating bon-bons, or . . . anything but this!!   Aunt Ruth, who lives with her farmer husband Uncle Robert, was smiling at me when I told her about the stuff I sometimes do on the farm.  I asked her if she ever had to do that stuff on their farm.  Her response was “I like helping him about as much as he likes me to help him.”  So funny.  They have an agreement.  You do your farm thing, and I’ll be here to watch.  Not my Prince Farming, though.  He loves me to be right there, even if I’m doing nothing at all for most of it.

So the reluctance doesn’t mean I don’t love the farm.  I just wasn’t anticipating this being my life.  There is a lot that I love about being here.  And there is a certain amount of satisfaction when local farmers (or not) drive past and watch with admiration as they see me hauling the rocks, or pulling the hay from the (formerly) open drive-shaft on the cub cadet.   And then there’s the opportunity for character development and personal growth.  I’ll share that as I’m aware of it.  For right now - here I am.  ReluctantFarmChik.  Could have been InexperiencedAndWannaPlanTravelFarmChik.  But that would sound like I’m an idiot itinerant farmer. . . not quite my message.