Farm Fresh Blog

My yard is flooded again. This morning it has rained harder than a cow pissin' on a flat rock. The weatherman insists that we're still in a drought. He has clearly not talked to my goats. Goats don't like water. Few things are more pitiful than a goat standing on a bucket because she doesn't want to get her feet wet.

 "I need rubber boots!"

Even as the Powers That Be insist we are still in a drought, it continues to rain, and once again, the difference between city people and country folk emerges. City people arrive at the office in clean clothes, with clean shoes.

City people are inconvenienced by rain. They have to carry umbrellas. They have to drive a little slower on the freeway. They have to wait until it quits raining to get their cars detailed. For the most part though, their lives don't change much.

Now let's look at country people. Country people get wet on the way to their car because any building that 'might' be used as a garage is pressed into service as a barn for animals or hay, thus, they must park in their unpaved driveway. There is no sidewalk leading to the driveway since the yard is also used as a pasture. After all, why waste decent pasture with a sidewalk?

Thus, country people must walk in the rain to their cars. Rain equals mud, ergo, their shoes/boots get muddy on the way to the car.

City people climb in the car, drive out the garage and down the street toward their office. They "might" get their arms wet checking the mail in the mailbox.

Country people must open the main gate first. This means climbing out of the car, into the rain, sloshing through the mud, opening the gate, climbing back into the car, watching for sheep or goats who are attempting to make a jailbreak, then gunning the engine to drive through gate, hopping out of car and rushing to close gate before the livestock gets out.

This situation improves if your Livestock Guardian Dog moves stock away from the gate as mine has taught herself to do.  Woo hooooo! Good Dog, Briar!

Pet wet dog on the head to reward her for her efforts. She rewards you with a large muddy pawprint on your thigh and wet white hairs pressed into navy blue pants. Such is life.

Lock gate and drive to work. Arrive at office building with wet hair plastered to head. Pull it up in a pony tail and try to pass it off as that "just stepped out of the shower" look.

Ride elevator up with civilized people and note that city people are wearing pristine white tennis shoes, polished flats, silk, pressed, dryclean clothing, and have slightly frizzy hair. They politely move away from Wet Country Person who steps into elevator.

Stare at elevator lights pinging up floors while are painfully aware that you have wet hair, and are slightly dripping onto polished floor. Smell a wet dog. Wonder if anyone else in the elevator has a wet dog. Perhaps you can pretend it's someone else. Wonder if the dog hair on your pants gives you away. If they do not, the giant muddy pawprint on your thigh probably does. Stare down at muddy boots. Perhaps if you stare at the lighted buttons you can will the elevator to go faster. Wryly note that Civilized people are probably wishing the same thing.

Arrive at desk. Turn on television to hear WeatherMan call for yet more rain, and add that we are still in a drought.

REALLY?

 Really, People?