I recently read a post on someone’s Facebook page that depicted a farming life that resonated with me. The page is called The Kindness Croft. I think it’s a private group but I’m sure you can become a member by following. Anyway I will pick out some bits that I loved.
‘Farm work doesn’t only make you stronger … it reveals you.
Some of the toughest women you’ll ever meet spend their days on a farm.
There are more uses for twine than you can possibly imagine.
‘Well that didn’t go as planned’ is something you’ll find yourself saying quite often.
Sometimes sleep is a luxury. So are lunch and dinner. And brushing your hair.
Trust me, you’ll find and feel muscles you didn’t know existed.
When one of your animals is ill, you’ll go to great lengths to minimize their discomfort, whether in scorching heat or coldest winter days. When you lose one of them, even though you know that day is inevitable, you still feel sadness.
You’ll cry a lot but never live more fully.
You’ll remain present, no matter what, because you must.
You’ll ask for miracles and hold out hope until the very last.
You’ll find yourself saying ‘We have twenty minutes of daylight left’ to finish an urgent task.
You’ll become obsessive about the weather.
You’ll go into town smelling of dirt, sweat and animal manure.
Your entire day can derail within ten seconds of the rising sun.
You’ll always notice how beautiful sunrises and sunsets are.
Should you ever have the opportunity to work on a farm, take the chance.
You will never do anything more satisfying in your life. ‘
This was largely written (with a little tweaking by me) by someone who calls herself The Lone Star Shepherdess.
I commented that I didn’t cry a lot as a farmer. I stoically bottled up my tears for forty years, until one day they all came out in one go. It made a very big noise.
The post reminded me of something I once wrote about what farming meant to me. It’s to be found towards the end of my memoir –
It’s waking up each morning to the sounds of crows and magpies
Wattle birds that call ‘Wake up Wake up’
It’s being out the back
delighting in a mob of well proportioned ewes
nuzzling into life a brand new drop of snow white lambs
The smell of new mown hay
The peace of mind in seeing it to the shed
It’s the sigh of gentle breezes through the mallee
Noticing the earth change colour
with the passage of the plough across it after rain
The smell of that
It’s the sight of big white fleeces
rolling off the backs of sheep
The sound of tight full bales clanking out of presses
It’s a beer with the team at the end of the day
and watching a sky that envisions tomorrow
as we talk of the good seasons
rarely the bad
It’s the smells – of lanolin and sheep manure
The earthy smell through summer rain
Gum trees sweating oil in savage heat
Exhaust of diesel power
that does the work of horses
It’s sending in a load of finished lambs
(despite the ache of seeing them go)
to bring the best price ever
It’s the distant drone and lights of tractors in the night
These are the things I love
This is now all just a memory. But the life did reveal me. And funnily enough, now as a retired farmer – no longer in the Southern Mallee of South Australia but living in the verdant Barossa Valley, life continues to reveal me – in a very different way. Isn’t it the same for all of us with the passage of time? New experiences, new people, the sweet intricacies of new relationships to negotiate. Do you think we continue to be revealed until the day we fall off the perch?
Just felt inclined to pop this blog up today. Will still put up my main one towards the end of the month.
It’s very hot here today. Have just been invited by a friend for a swim in her pool. Went for my regular swim this morning but another won’t hurt – especially as there will be an icy cold glass of bubbles and a platter afterwards, and great conversation with the friend who invited me and a couple of others. Thank you Shirley.
Take care,
Sue
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