As I was tooling around the farm yesterday (I was mowing, but it felt more like a leisurely drive in the country in 3 low), my mind was meandering as well. The first thing that is always striking for me is how quiet it is on our 40 acres. Here in the city, we've got noisy neighbors that just moved in across our previously quiet street. That is, quiet because half of the houses are vacant. There are at least 4 adults in the house whose sole job appears to be sitting on the porch all day and yelling. I suppose the government pays them well for doing that job, despite the fact that they all seem very able and capable of gainful employment. Their idea of parenting is to occasionally yell "git your *ss _______". Fill in the blank with "in the house", "in the backyard", etc. Their toddlers scream unsupervised in the front yard from sun up to sun down. The other neighbor blasts his truck radio to drown out their noise.
On the farm, I hear only the wind as it blows the grass and trees and the occasional moo from the cattle on our neighbor's property down the road. Sitting atop the John Deere, I imagine that J. and I are the only people in the world and that our house is just over the hill. It's a fleeting indulgence that's interrupted by my discovery that we have about 20 feet of wild blackberries growing along one of the wooded properties. I swerve to avoid running them over with the brush hog. Whew, that was close! I make a mental note to tell J. about my discovery.
The tractor purrs along in the sunshine, happy to be back at work. She is noisy herself, but it's a steady lullabye on a hot 90-degree day. We pass one of the outhouses that was constructed by the previous owner. Constructed is probably the wrong term to use, because we dont think he was much of a carpenter.
Wow, I'm amazed that my picture almost make that old outhouse look artistic. LOL. Mother Nature has taken out her rage on this poor structure in the form of wind, sun and rain on the wood over the last 10 years and it finally succumbed by falling over. I wonder to myself how long it will take before the only traces left are the rusty hinges and chain. In it's death and eventual return to the earth, it is almost beautiful.
Further along, I see more evidence of how cruel a mistress Mother Nature can be.