Thursday, January 13, 2011

You Can't Bank It

I sat writing the blog gathering memories from the past and lessons of the present. Suddenly, I was overcome with a realization of the gifts I had been given from living in a rural area. Wow, fellow Neff Roadians, we are so rich that the bank couldn't even begin to hold the wealth.

How many people do you know who have watched seeds planted in a field grow into a crop. How many people do you know who sat on a tobacco planter or hauled manure? On that topic, how many of your friends have driven a tractor?! We are rich!

As a small child, I sat by my dad in the tobacco barn watching the ewe push her new lamb, or sometimes lambs, into life. I didn't know how to be afraid or repulsed by the blood and matter. I didn't know how to understand the pain of the ewe. I only saw my father's capable hands assisting in this natural event. Wet lambs stumbled onto their yet-to-be-tried legs soon after birth the same as did the calves we watched birthed in the field. In the same way, we kept vigil over the animals who were dying.

I remember many years ago when we were driving in the country, my then husband saw a cow in labor. He insisted that we needed to alert the farmer. A vet should be summonsed. Obviously, he was a town kid. He found it hard to believe that the cow could do it on her own and that the farmer would notice that a new head had been added to his herd.

We have a rich history, farm kids.

I snapped beans and shelled peas as a tiny child. I pulled weeds in fields as my parents hoed crops. I chewed on wheat fresh from the field. I held babies bunnies cuddled in the rabbit house beneath soft white fur. I learned the progression of the life cycle from beginning to end in the lives of the animals on the farm.

I didn't realize richness of farm life when I lived it, but for the memories, I am indeed a wealthy woman.

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