"I killed the farm. I love you!"

Like many sudden epiphanies, the practical implementation comes much slower than the ideal insight. So goes it with our phenomenology of the farm. Last week we had big plans for each of our days: rise with the sun, walk the dogs, feed the dogs, go for a run, clean the dishes, vacuum the house, fold the laundry, THEN go to school/work, teach my courses, return home to walk the dogs, return to school to teach my courses, attend meetings, eat lunch (probably too late and too close to dinner), meet with students, check email, squeeze in random tasks, return home to walk the dogs, feed the dogs dinner, greet my husband as he returns from a day of school and work, eat a late late late dinner, collapse into bed, read a page or two of a novel, pretend to sleep. There, that'd be a productive day... all except the no sleep. But we'll get to that.

But the days last week really only accomplished everything after the "THEN" above. Of course we walked the dogs in the morning, but not as the sun rose, and more in a hurry hurry pee poo kind of a way. Not sure it was fun for human or dog, but the deeds were done. Needless to say, and to clear up any would-be confusion, we are not farmers in the strict sense. In fact, neither myself nor my husband even own our own land. We're renters. In a city. And our land is, apparently, considered communal property by our neighbors. It's an unofficial (and unwelcomed) meeting point, at which we must relinquish our privacy and our maturity to the whims of those with greater financial resources.

Farming, then, is truly a state of mind, a state squeezed into the cracks left to us alone. A way to approach each day with less frustration, more production, and just the right pinch of exhalation. But, remember, we're not farmers... so the learning curve is pretty steep. One day at a time? Nah. Our learning curve also lacks patience. So we had attempted (last week) to begin full tilt, 100% in! And the week ended with me finding a tiny little post-it note stuck to the inside of my cell phone. It was from my husband, following the final morning when we did NOT wake up with the sun, walk the dogs, feed the dogs, go for a run, clean the dishes, vacuum the house, fold the laundry, etc. etc. And this tiny note said: "I'm sorry I killed the farm. I love you!"

Well, I love you too, said I to my husband. And the farm isn't dead, it's simply starting from seed. So we're still 100% in; but if we don't rise with the sun just yet, that's ok. And if we don't finish our chores before the work day truly begins, that's ok too. We're thinking along what we feel to be the 'right' lines. And we're working what we can into our phenomenology, into our introspective study of the things that make up our lives together. Last week: work week. Today: another insight, another curve. Tomorrow: we'll see.



Right now I'm content to sit with my feet up, a book in my hands, and two dogs' heads in my lap. I'd say that's the way to end a day, even if that day didn't start the way I'd planned...