Over dinner this weekend, J and her friend, M, were discussing their future vocational goals. J stated that she wants to be a Veterinarian. "I want to have a hard life when I grow up." said M. Perhaps the stunned silence that followed prompted her to explain. "I want to live in a log cabin and cook all my meals over the fire. I want to have a corn crop." (True to her love of all things Pioneer!)
"We have a corn crop." I announced. M didn't appear to be impressed.
In all honesty, our corn patch is not all that impressive. Personally, I find the stately rows of tall, green stalks very beautiful. I only managed to get about half of it weeded and mulched this year before running out of mulching material. The weeds between the remaining rows were knee high, so I actually pushed the mower between the rows this weekend!
I was delighted by the thunder storm last evening! I refilled the rain barrels, and imagined how happy the garden and corn patch would be with all of the water. I surveyed the landscape following the rain with dismay, however. Two-thirds of the corn patch was flattened. Several limbs and many branches littered the ground. The bird feeder was dangling upside down from the suspension wire.
This morning, coffee mug in hand, I strode out to right the fallen stalks. An hour and a half later, I had 6 rows tied up and had weeded another row, straightened and filled the bird feeder, and tossed most of the litter into the woods. With a satisfied sigh, I came in for a bowl of cereal with blueberries.
Not a hard life, certainly, but hard work. Hard work that yields amazing rewards and is personally fulfilling. I can handle that!
T
2 comments:
Sounds great. Me? I doubled over on the floor this morning, pounding the rug in frustration where playdough was smashed into the fabric. Ah. Life with a baby, Elspeth, and a six year old. The truth is I'd love to be doing hard work myself--but work of my choosing, NOT scrubbing playdough out of the rugs. I'm sick and tired of crisis control (ie., Elspeth--told Martin I was ready to shake her this morning). Well, Elspeth is crying again and I think the baby woke up. One of those mornings.
Ah, I know that feeling!!! L squished red play dough into the white carpet with her feet while my whole family was here. My entire day is interrupted by needed to dash off and play referee between J (who is trying to pry L off of her stuff) and L who is screaming her head off!! Grrrr...perhaps they'll be easier at age 3???
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