![]() ![]() He lugs, jerks, drags and kicks the floppy bags down his dirt driveway. Through binoculars, I watch my new across-the-street neighbor, Mr. The only thing growing here today is my livestock-sized thirst. ![]() Debt, heartbreak and perpetually ragged cuticles. I took a big old bite out of that very same apple, and look what it got me. “The serpent beguiled me,” Eve admitted, “and I did eat.” Fell for them like Scarlett fell for Rhett and Tara, like Isak Dinesen fell for her big game hunter and Africa, like Eve fell for the snake and the garden. If I know anything, I know this: No two states of being entice the unsuspecting female bystander with more money-for-jam promise than marriage and farming. A blessing, really, because right now I could harrow something. This place, at only six acres, is too small to justify one, anyway. My physical safety behind the wheel of farm machinery is not in any jeopardy simply because I’m too broke to own a tractor. I should be weeding I should be watering I should be mucking out stalls I should be turning the compost pile. It is late July, the time of year work piles up like cordwood. Nobody likes a drunk, soon-to-be divorced, in debt, swollen-eyed, single-mother farmeress because she simply can’t get any work done this way. This calls for a beer.Ī perfectly bonny morning on the farm, and I’m just this side of plowed. It's trash day and her ex-husband, turned neighbor, is dragging the detritus of her twenty-year marriage to the curb. ![]()
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