Friday, January 1, 2016

Perspectives of Ordinary




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

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

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.


Lulu the farm dog

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