[rain on the clay tiles all night]
More than once since graduating high school (and sometimes even before), I have laid awake at night and wondered for long, long hours whether I might better serve the world and myself by turning my back on law school and pelting headlong for the countryside and not even looking back. More than once I've fallen asleep thinking of the good weariness of heavy lifting out in the sun; I've curled up in the dark and thought of clear mornings and work boots and the smell of horses, and settled myself for sleep remembering the contentment that comes with knowing just what needs to be done.
I always miss animals most when I go away. It seems weird, because I leave so much behind, people and places and piles of T-shirts; but I can't call a horse on the phone, or skype my puppy, or have my mom mail me a chicken, or scratch a goat between the horns over the Internet. And then Pal died this semester, so I don't even have my sweet doggy here now to sleep next to my bed and wake me up way too early with a cold nose in my face.
But starting next week, I will be farm-sitting for fifteen days, with almost sole custody of a house, a garden, and a veritable zoo - chickens and rabbits and dogs and a cat, which I have dealt with before, and sheep and pigs (SO MANY PIGS) and pigeons, which I have not. It's different from the Rancho, for sure; more animals, for one, and more moving of animals, and more... driving of a truck (which I did like a FUCKING CHAMPION this morning thank you). Less cuddly overall ("Do not enter the pigpen before feeding time. The pigs will not leave remains"). But the sheep are sweethearts, the puppy is the best, the chickens are familiar, and the house will be quiet and clean and I will be living in it by myself, twenty minutes' drive from the crowd living in my space here.
I know running a farm is a pipe dream, that I could never really give up my life and what I'm learning and doing and planning to go raise goats in Dacula. I know that what I've seen and done is the prettier side of farming. I know that I, with my home in the suburbs to which I return when my chunk of the day's work is done, am not a farmer. I have always had the power to relegate emergencies to someone else; I have never fought for an animal's life, or killed an animal, or even seen an animal slaughtered in front of me. I have the freedom to grow attached, to think of dumb names, to let the animals slide in and out of my life without thought to where they come from or where they go or what they do when I'm not there. I am not a farmer.
But yeesh, I'm looking forward to living on that farm for the next two weeks. Me, the Internet, and a lot of cute fuzzy things? Sounds like a summer, man. :D
I always miss animals most when I go away. It seems weird, because I leave so much behind, people and places and piles of T-shirts; but I can't call a horse on the phone, or skype my puppy, or have my mom mail me a chicken, or scratch a goat between the horns over the Internet. And then Pal died this semester, so I don't even have my sweet doggy here now to sleep next to my bed and wake me up way too early with a cold nose in my face.
But starting next week, I will be farm-sitting for fifteen days, with almost sole custody of a house, a garden, and a veritable zoo - chickens and rabbits and dogs and a cat, which I have dealt with before, and sheep and pigs (SO MANY PIGS) and pigeons, which I have not. It's different from the Rancho, for sure; more animals, for one, and more moving of animals, and more... driving of a truck (which I did like a FUCKING CHAMPION this morning thank you). Less cuddly overall ("Do not enter the pigpen before feeding time. The pigs will not leave remains"). But the sheep are sweethearts, the puppy is the best, the chickens are familiar, and the house will be quiet and clean and I will be living in it by myself, twenty minutes' drive from the crowd living in my space here.
I know running a farm is a pipe dream, that I could never really give up my life and what I'm learning and doing and planning to go raise goats in Dacula. I know that what I've seen and done is the prettier side of farming. I know that I, with my home in the suburbs to which I return when my chunk of the day's work is done, am not a farmer. I have always had the power to relegate emergencies to someone else; I have never fought for an animal's life, or killed an animal, or even seen an animal slaughtered in front of me. I have the freedom to grow attached, to think of dumb names, to let the animals slide in and out of my life without thought to where they come from or where they go or what they do when I'm not there. I am not a farmer.
But yeesh, I'm looking forward to living on that farm for the next two weeks. Me, the Internet, and a lot of cute fuzzy things? Sounds like a summer, man. :D