Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Eau de Rurale'

Essence of smelly breezes go hand in hand with farm country. You can’t hide it. You can’t cover it up. You can’t lie and say that you don’t own livestock.
Of course, there are chickens, turkeys, cattle and especially pigs that add to the eau de ruralé. It is the way of it.

I remember driving the tractor with the manure spreader following behind. This is not something that my city friends would understand, so please keep this to yourself. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it gave me a chance to drive across the field randomly without concern for new crops or straight rows. The cow stable was once more clean and a nasty task accomplished. Somebody had to do it. At least I didn’t do the shoveling.

When we moved to our mini farm on Teagues South, we had been warned about Baker’s pig farm. Of course, when you were looking at your dream home on a day that the wind was from the east, little thought did you give to Baker’s pigs. I remember the first day that we had a wind from the west. Jim was mowing the lawn; I was hanging clothes. Suddenly the wind changed. The west wind whipped around my head and my wet laundry. The rancid odor chased me with wet laundry into the house, caused me to shut windows and had me debating whether I should hide from the west wind or pack my bags.

It is the way of the farm this eau de ruralé that travels on the wind. Planning an outdoor barbeque, stepping out of a church after a wedding ceremony, hanging laundry on the clothesline are all at the mercy of the wind. It is the way of the farm.

I can only apologize for the direction my mind wanders on some days. It is as fickle as the rural breeze.

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