Get Outta Town. So I Did.

And I feel much better now. I hadn't been out to the farm in almost two months and I was going a little bit crosseyed. A little squirrely. Stir crazy. Cabin fevered. If it wasn't for my twice weekly barn visits I'd have blown a mental gasket or something. Whew. That's a lot of metaphors in one short paragraph.

Here are some observations on life in the country that I would like to share with you. Some of you will get this. Some will be disgusted. I am just your faithful life observer.

-It's colder out in the country. It just is. I'm not sure if it's actually a degree or two colder or if it's the wind roaring across that open field on the north side of the road, but damn. It's cold. I'd open the kitchen door and stand in the entrance way to clip the tether to the Pug's collar, and he'd look up at me like, "But it's too cold to send a little dog outside." Then I'd slowly realize that he's a Pug and he always has that look on his face...and I'd boot his little tawny butt outside. But geez, I sure am glad that some relative of mine back in the 50s decided that indoor plumbing is a good thing to have in a house.

-I'm pretty sure that whoever coined the phrase, "Springtime Freshness" had never been anywhere near a farm. All winter the smell is frozen but look out when it all starts to melt. And that's with only two horses. I have conveniently forgotten what a barn full of pigs smells like. Also I'm kind of weird...I like the smell of horse manure. It's oddly comforting to me.

-Apparently out in my parent's neck of the woods, Hi-speed internet is available. I'm not kidding when I say it's on my list of Farm Shopping Priorities.

-The dog had no offending pedestrians to bark at for six days. He had to bark at my dad instead. Every time Dad came into the house, the Pug leaped off the couch, squealing and growling, then skidding to a halt for a pat. He's just not cut out to be a good watch dog, if he must wag his little curled tail after every alarm he sets off...but he sure is good at warming up cold feet.

-Rubber boots don't keep feet warm. A felt insole helps but doesn't solve it. Good thing there are only two stalls to clean.

-There are many reasons for keeping the horses outside day and night in the summer. One of them is that after a whole winter of stall cleaning I would not want to look at another little pile of round poops in a nest of pine shavings. It's not the physical work- all that twisting is actually good for my stiff crooked spine. It's not the stink- as long as I cover up my clothes and hair, I don't carry the stink into the house. It's not the look of it. It's the repetition. I can't do repetitive work. It gets burned into my brain so that I close my eyes and it's all I see. When I worked in a green house as a teenager I spent an entire March Break with marigold seedling under my eyelids. I didn't get this problem from cleaning stalls for a week. But I after an entire winter I can't wait to close the barn.

-I'm close with my folks. I can spend a week in their house and it never ends in the kind of dramatic meltdowns that some families have. We enjoy each other. I miss my own house though. I get out of routine and can't get it together. But, I did manage to chase my mom away from a few loads of laundry. She shouldn't have to wash our clothes. I let her cook though, because she's so very good at it.

-The kids are already planning our summer break at the farm. They're going to learn how to weld, and drive. And it's about time, too, I say. Too bad we don't have any little piglets to castrate anymore...

-There's no Country Fresh in the country. There's mud, manure, crusty snowbanks, harsh wind, ten minutes in the car to the nearest coffee shop, rusty well water, and big rigs jake-braking down the highway to slow down for the big curve at the end of the field.

...and I'd take it all in a heartbeat.