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Tractors, Poop, Gender, Pies and Beautiful Skies…

March 16, 2012

Today was a very, very important day. Today, I dragged poop over a field.  On. A. Tractor.  Ok, I know what you’re thinking. Poop? Over a field? Why is there poop in a field, what kind of poop is it, and with what is it being dragged? All valid questions. But people, you are missing the best part while contemplating poo questions! I. Drove. A. Tractor. That’s right! Me! Your little ol’ farmer’s wife (Sometimes I wish was a farmer and Jason was an artist-teacher-baker-entrerpreneur with his little side egg business just so I could say the words farmer’s husband and reveal a lot of people’s deep gender prejudices. But we’ll leave that one alone and go back to the other gender prejudice we were just discussing about girls driving tractors…). It’s true! Your gal here is learning to drive a big (and when I say big, I mean pretty dang gigantuous) green machine. There’s some strange thing here about tractor colors, and apparently the color of your tractor tells other tractor lovers about your status and identity as a tractor driver. I don’t know. To me it sounds a lot like comparing truck size, or something like that. But none-the-less, I suppose by marital default I’m on the green team. If you’re not familiar, our mascot is a deer, but is spelled with an extra ‘e’. Hmmm. Don’t ask me.

The continual conventional wisdom I get from farmer’s wifes (forgive me if I’m quoting you here) is that “If your husband teaches you to drive a tractor, then he’ll expect you to drive a tractor. So don’t learn!” Well, I suppose I’ve taken the opposite logic that says if you don’t learn to drive a tractor you can’t do too much of anything on a farm, so learn! And what’s interesting about it is that driving through a field on a tractor really is relaxing. Jason has gone on and on about this to me for years, how he loves clearing his mind on a tractor, can ride for hours in the fresh air and sun on a tractors….blah blah blah I love my tractor (basically what I heard). But now, I guess I’m coming around. Today, I rode with Jason (and sidekick Wile of course) for about an hour on the tractor before driving myself. And I basically spent an hour contemplating the concept of a “New York Minute” and the myriad of things we mean when we say that. My mind twisted and turned with each round of the tractor around the field, as we passed mama cows and their newborn calves who pranced around us intrigued by this big green machine spreading out their tiny, fresh piles of poo. Ahh, the poo, I almost forgot.

So if you’re wondering about the pooh, it’s basically run over by links of heavy duty chain woven together in order to break up the cow “patties” (or neat, or sometimes not-so-neat piles of cow dung) and spread it across the field for natural fertilization, so it will grow more grass for those exact cows to delightfully consume. Perfect circle, right? A couple of images to greater explain the poo-dragger below–with the farmer’s wife conspicuously missing in ever a photograph because, well, she’s the photographer.

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