Wednesday, August 25, 2021

"There’s Gym Strong and Then There’s Farm Strong."

Via Huong via Marilyn
                                 May be an image of standing and outdoors

I worked many a summer on my Father's farms. The ones who lived on the farms got $4 a day plus houses, beef and pork. A regular day worker got $5 a day and the fast ones got $6 a day as I did. 🙂 The hands always teased me that the only reason I got $6 was because I worked for my Father. :)
 
“Farm work doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t make you anything. It reveals you.
 
There’s gym strong and then there’s farm strong. They’re mutually exclusive. The toughest women you’ll ever meet spend their days on a farm.
 
There are more uses for twine than you can possibly imagine. You can tie up a hole in a slow feeder, fashion a tail strap for a horse’s blanket, mend a broken fence and use it as a belt.
 
“Well that certainly didn’t go as planned,” is one thing you’ll say quite a bit.
 
Control is a mere illusion. The thought that you have any, at any given time, is utterly false.
 
Sometimes sleep is a luxury. So are lunch and dinner. And brushing your hair.
 
If you’ve never felt your obliques contract, then you’ve never tried stopping an overly full wheelbarrow of horse manure from tipping over sideways. Trust me, you’ll find muscles that you never knew existed on the human skeleton to prevent this from happening. 
 
When one of the animals is ill, you’ll go to heroic lengths to minimize their discomfort.
 
Their needs come first. In summer heat and coldest winter days. Clean water, clean bed, and plenty of feed. Before you have your first meal, they all eat. 
 
When you lose one of them, even though you know that day is inevitable, you still feel sadness, angst and emotional pain from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. And it’s a heaviness that lingers even though you must regroup and press on.
 
You’ll cry a lot. But you’ll never live more fully. You’ll remain present no matter what because you must. There is no other option. 
 
You’ll ask for so many miracles and hold out hope until the very last. 
 
You will, at least once, face-plant in the manure pile. You’ll find yourself saying things like, “we have maybe twenty minutes of daylight left to git ‘er done” whilst gazing up at a nonspecific place in the sky.
You’ll become weirdly obsessive about the weather.
 
You’ll go out in public wearing filthy clothes and smelling of dirt, sweat and poop. People will look at you sideways and krinkle their noses but you won’t care. 
 
Your entire day can derail within ten seconds of the rising sun. 
 
You can wash your coveralls. They won’t look any cleaner, but they will smell much nicer.
 
Farm work is difficult in its simplicity.
 
You’ll always notice just how beautiful sunrises and sunsets really are. 
 
Should you ever have the opportunity to work on a farm, take the chance! You will never do anything more satisfying in your entire life.” 
 
~~Author Unknown

4 comments:

  1. I grew up on a hay farm. I was a nerd. In 7th and 8th grade I got picked on a lot. I was left alone in 9th grade as I was starting to fill out. In 10th grade a senior gave me some shit and a shoving match led to a fight. I jumped up and grabbed him in a head lock where I was whaling on him. He lifted me up and I held the headlock. He slipped and I held the headlock where I DDT'ed him knocking him out. Nobody screwed with me again in high school. When I was a senior I was 5'10" at 190 pounds with a 6 pack abs, 17" biceps, and a 42" chest. I was also able to pick up a 75 pound bale of hay one handed and throw it 10 to 15 feet and have it land where it locked in the stack of hay.

    I am a butterball at 60 years old.

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  2. I grew-up on a farm, my four grandparents lived next door.
    .
    I was probably three years old, wandering into the kitchen at 3am, wondering at the commotion, all our wimmen-folk fixing our first meal of the day.
    .
    I never saw anything as 'work'.
    Instead, I made a game of learning every detail of the gig.
    .
    .
    But putting out a daily blog, finding a vast variety of intriguing subjects, then aligning them in some sort of recognizable order... I am glad somebody else is doing it, creating a place for me to post witty humorous comments as a permanent display of My Grand Intellect.
    .
    .
    PS:
    Anybody need any trees trimmed?
    I carry most of my farm-gear in the truck...

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    Replies
    1. my four grandparents lived next door.

      Just wonderful.

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