Husband has dirt in his blood. He said he never would when we were dating. He said he'd never be a farmer (although the "good story" he wrote when he was 8 hinted otherwise).
It hangs on our wall now... as it did on his grandparent's wall for many years.
It hangs on our wall now... as it did on his grandparent's wall for many years.
He "gets it honest"...
His daddy, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather all turned soil.
Farming is a tough occupation. It's unpredictable. Physically demanding. Financially risky. The weather is finicky. Machinery breaks down. The hours are long. Injury is lurking...
And yet... it fills husband's cup.
And yet... it fills husband's cup.
He comes home each night dirty and greasy... lovely and spent. The cologne of soil... and grease... and earth cling to him... and I savor it. His days are wrapped in sunshine... rain... mud... weather forecasts... planning and shifting plans... livestock that depend on him... sowing seeds... and harvesting their offspring... divided and multiplied.
These are the "girls" I share him with...
Activities as old as time... souped up with a little John Deere Green horsepower and modern day technology.
Tools lined up... everything in it's place.
(This would explain why my purse makes him nauseous!)
a "chance of thunderstorms" hold weight much greater than whether my picnic will be spoiled or not.
In admiration I watch those perfectly straight rows of emerald sprouts look out upon this world and I am overwhelmed by the beauty of it... the field itself...
and the way it nourishes husband.
Winter wheat morphs the field into a giant Chia pet!
The black ground is watered with his sweat... and sometimes blood and tears.
Roots grow deep into this ancestral land.
Alongside the wheat and corn... grow faith and trust and patience and hope.
God whispers in the wind... and shouts from the treetops.
All that dirty blood running through his veins... and light... and air.
Cleansing and right.
He is more... and so am I.
I'm so glad he changed his mind about this farming thing.
This is completley precious!!! I see and hear the love!!! so blessed
ReplyDeleteThat is called loyalty to God, family and country....faith, family, farm....Maybe why he loves Marshmellows ?.....Pat Wright Girling....
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed reading this .. and I'm a city girl. You made it come to life in a beautiful way.
ReplyDeleteBlessings!
Debbi Morel
PurposeAndJoy.blogspot.com
SuZanne, I absolutely love your eloquent way of describing your husband's passion! My parents are farmers, and my husband is a meteorologist, so we know all too well how much weather affects the lives of our country's literal '"bread and butter"! Thank you so much for sharing this!!
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