Reading Redzilla's post brought to mind a few things.
"goggles?"
When we sharpen blades on the brush hog, I'm wearing shorts and a cami -- maybe shoes. My "protection" is using my foot to hold them rather than my arm -- who wants to be blinded by an asbestos grinder sending up sparks?
Of course I have lots of scars...
Another: we used mules to power old farm equipment like discs? My dad would have me ride on top of them for added weight -- those things aren't covered. Who puts their baby-girl on top of "scaffolding" inches away from rows of steel discs similar to circular saws? My old man.
The disc harrower to left is like...a toy or something but it shows the discs to which I refer.
I typed up a post about some ball bearings getting busted out of their casing house on the mower deck but Vox ate it. It's my fault. I shouldn't trust them (copy something before posting, just in case!).
I started to rewrite it but didn't have time. It's not exciting or anything and you kind of have to hear me tell stories of rural life to enjoy the agile use of accents-locales. At any rate, her story of power tools and such reminded me of riding on top of bucking farm equipment designed to break things much harder than my head.
MT cut the asparagus."
When I wasn't trying to fit in a week's worth of home-cleaning -failing into one day along with the charity H4H stool thing and writers workshop, I decided to cook a pot of beans. My father came to me and said the asparagus needed cut so, I ran out and did that, too. -I'm a good doobie...and he's Pa Kettle
•For city-folk, here's how asparagus grows (in spring, later it grows up over my head and gets all feathery-looking).
Then, take your "mess of asparagus"don't know if that term is used outside of the Ozarks or not but it basically means enough food for a meal; ie: "She brought a mess of fish to her mother." inside and proceed to look for anything untoward.
Particularly in our area (perhaps everywhere), there are these
Cleaned and ready to cook: I like to cut mine down farther but it ruins the "prettiness" of the whole stalks so, I stopped taking shots there.
•And here's the state of the herbs (and lettuce):
It was so beautiful on Saturday that I went out wearing gym shorts, a t-shirt and Wellies (very mucky) and walked down to the county road to get the mail. It was so beautiful on the way back that once I got to the top of the valley, I went down the other side to the back creek.
Along my way, I passed the flock of chickens who were merrily scratching and pecking around the back pasture up by the old barn. Remember, these chickens weren’t raised by a mama hen. I’m the mama and they’re very spoiled. While adults, they still think they’re babies. -see George when she was a baby?
I entered the back pasture and they started to follow -- this is normal. I ignored them and walked on. By the time I reached the other side of the pasture and entered the woods, they were still with me -- this is not normal. As chickens, they should have some in-built sense of preservation. Coyotes, bobcats and more live in the woods. I tried to shoosh them back -- they watched my arms flying around with curiosity, not clucks nor flapping of wings.
“What’s the big, featherless chicken doing?”
As I broke out of the forest into the pasture-land. My father had seen me from their deck and called.
“You got some stragglers, there.”
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My t-shirts are looking gross so, I bought a couple of "Farm Aid" t-shirts to replace. -yes I made sure they were American-made and printed...I'll just hope they're from cotton grown in the US by some relatives but who's kidding whom? I had one that says "stop factory farming" from a different org. One where you can adopt farm animals that were "liberated" from places that neglected them. Farm aid is for family farmers and I noticed one thing, after perusing their site, I came up with jack-shit for MO. They help IL and IA but not us? Meh. Anyway, maybe nobody kicks in much from MO. Sadly, MO is home to plenty factory farms : (
I'm not so much into it from the "PETA" side as I am for health/ hygiene/ food source and "small company" vs. large corporation side. I'm a farmer's daughter, niece and granddaughter. Several uncles ran family farms (as their #1 income) and the only money I made prior to working "out" in the world (at 15 at a DQ some 30 miles from my home as it was the closest place to get a job back then) was through buying a couple of calves in early spring and caring for them until autumn when I sold them at sale barn. I made very little if you look at the work put in, special medical things (not often but they can arise), extra food beyond pasture-grazing? Let's say $200 for 9 months of work and then you take out the extra expenses means NOT a big profit. And so it goes for people who can only run 200 head compared to factory farms that over-medicate, feed animals other animals ground up, have unsanitary conditions, the animals are held in cages and never roam or graze or breath fresh air...This is something I have first-hand experience with and it means a lot to me. -I'm watching, note the lovely furrow-wrinkle I'm developing?
It can be different but it means consumers MUST buy from "farmer's markets" where they've investigated the farms where the meat comes from, etc. It's work. People just want to have some hamburger helper but they're poisoning themselves and their children with bad meat all the while supporting a system of corporate welfare.
I've heard what's economically "wrong" with family farms vs. factory farms. I guess it's all about profit. In short (and with my understanding because I'm obviously not of this opinion), it would be like setting us back to pre-Industrial Revolution days. That wasn't so good for a lot of folks. My family, on the other hand did just fine what with growing our own food...My mother's family didn't do quite as well as they didn't grow their own. They did things like renting out the front porch to itinerant workers as a place to sleep (boards under their backs and a roof between them and the sky) or opening up the "front room" as a diner. Hey, you're cooking anyway, may as well feed anybody with money and a rumble in their bellies. Being Jewish, they also did mitzvahs of feeding those who couldn't pay but requested those who could work to do a little something, even if it was only sweeping the front porch whilst those workers were away for the day or shelling hully-pods.
I'm not looking at spreadsheets. History is written by the victor, so you'll excuse my jaded view of stats codified by those who choose to dole out checks to massive multi-national corporations that have been shifting manpower away from the US to other countries and selling the same products to other countries at lower rates than they sell to us. When said companies receive these checks (or incentives as "relief" from paying taxes on all that land, all that caged meat, all that property), do you think they put it right into their megalofarms?
No. They put it in the golden parachute fund for their CEO in case they need to give him the boot in 6 months because he was caught doing insider-trading or fiddling with a fourteen year old. They send it abroad to lease more land to hire more workers there -- these companies are diversified. They aren't just infecting meat here, they're making paper in Germany, too.
Do not tell me that the factory farms are better-investigated because we all know that's bullshit. Pardon the pun.
I get uppity about family farms. It's emotionally wrenching. My countryside is being chopped apart to build "new little cities" (urban sprawl) for people who are indebted for everything they "own" when a nice little fixer-upper was to be had in a city that was made grand by their grandparents. "Use it up, use it up! Indebt ourselves to pay corporations for the privilege of their shoddy goods!" Apparently, this is the New American Dream.
-and the old way is going the way of the dinosaurs and I'm but a wooly mammoth caught chewing my cud...they'll study me one day. I mean aliens because I'm just the first to go.
-I know my "chick noise" is annoying...pay attention and you'll hear they respond to it. When they're older, they'll follow me when I say "chick, chick."