Monday, April 28, 2008
I miss living on the farm. On the farm I was alone. It was quiet, there were animals. I got paid $1500/month which is small beans compared to what I'm making right now but I also didn't have to pay rent. I didn't have to pay for utilities. In essence, I was getting paid to do what I loved to do: ride and take care of animals.
I'd go to sleep every night with the 3 Jack Russells, Missy and Max who were from the same litter (Missy between my legs, Max atop the pillow next to me) and Bull, the big daddy dog, snoring soundly still as a log next to me.
Why did I leave? My bosses came back from New Zealand. My space got invaded. It's their space but at the same time I had no space. No private area despite the fact that I slept in the same room I'd been sleeping in since i was 13. They're my second set of parents. I've been eating off the same custom-made plates for the past 20+ years. I'd also gotten injured my first week there - I fell off a horse and smashed my tailbone. YOUCH! I didn't want to continue like that without getting a lot of rest. I also missed the hustle of NYC.
The pony I learned to kick ass on is slowly deteriorating. After the last winter that I was there (2005-2006) they asked me how she looked and I sadly told them, "Not good." They wondered if she'd last another one. She was already running on one eye and her sway back was dipping lower and lower with each year.
I watched 9 cows give birth, one of which was still. I chased after a lamb that had gotten torn up in the barbed wire and jabbed penicillin into it for three days. I got up at 3am every day for a week to peer out my window at a very pregnant Jeri, to make sure she was still alive. And pregnant.
Time slows down when you're on a farm. But it also flies by as most days are about the same. You get up at 7am, get on your first horse by 8am. By 5pm you've ridden 6-7 horses and you're dead tired. There's only time left in the day to shower, make dinner and wash the dishes.
I miss that tired feeling - that deep, satisfying tiredness. The kind that makes Sunday bubble baths extra rewarding. Being tired from office work isn't the same. Your mind keeps racing and there is no rest. Not even for the wicked.
All photos taken with a Lomo LC-A