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| My farm name when I became the sole "woman owner" This graces the pink painted front door of my shop all adorned with frosty snowflakes |
The sky and rolling hills are the same color; it’s an all white scene. It reminded me of a conversation long ago while in Mexico when a man commented that he would love to see what a snowy landscape would look like. Having grown up in the Northwest where a white winter setting is the norm, it never occurred to me that this would be something on someone’s bucket list. It gave me a whole new perspective of viewing the ordinary through someone else’s eyes. Perhaps that is why urban folks like reading posts about combines, tractors and quality time spent with back-pack sprayers. For farmers, it’s a commonplace way of life, but to the urban dwellers, it’s a peek into a whole new world. I still recall my dentist visit last June, when a new technician asked me what I was going to do the rest of the day and I told her I had gravel to move, so it was going to be quality time on the tractor. Her reply was priceless, “this is why I love Idaho, back in New York, no one owns their own tractor…. Especially a woman!” Lol
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| Hard to tell where the sky ends and the hills begin A frosty beautiful morning on the Palouse |
I still recall my dentist visit last June, when a new technician asked me what I was going to do the rest of the day and I told her I had gravel to move, so it was going to be quality time on the tractor. Her reply was priceless, “this is why I love Idaho, back in New York, no one owns their own tractor…. Especially a woman!” Lol
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| My personal tractor, "Maisy" normally gets to be inside, but I have a building project on-going in the shop, so she sits outside patiently awaiting Spring |
I guess it is true, because like to read about people who live in urban areas, as it is a lifestyle foreign to me. Last Spring, I had the opportunity to travel to Tucson, AZ and where I was staying, it was all pavement and concrete. Across from the hotel, there was an apartment complex and a woman and her young child were sitting on a patch of fake green grass and I wondered if they knew what it felt like to feel the real grass under their toes, or smell the scent of fresh dirt or find serenity in open spaces. I wondered what their life was like, but at the same time, I gave a silent prayer of thanks for ending up living life for many years as an Ag producer.
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| Lulu the farm dog |
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| My little piece of paradise Iconic windmill and red barn |
As 2016 is now officially here and just a few hours old, I
can’t wait to see what the new year will unveil. It’s a new story in the making and one that I
will willingly share with you, from my eyes to yours wherever you are. As always, I welcome comments, questions and thoughts. I’m just a click away, swheatfarmlife@gmail.com. xoxo Love, Gayle
