See You Next Fall.

Had a nice trip. Minneapolis is still there. I needed to get away from the farm. Not because it’s been too tough. But because I forget.
And because starting sometime in the very near future comes the time of year in which the farm and I become a bit too intimate. If farms had fathers, Wotokahan’s would not be happy with the things we do to each other.
End of May, start of June. Most farmers have had their corn planted for weeks. And sprayed with chemicals so they don’t have to drive tractors over their fields to keep the weeds manageable. On Wotokahan we plant our corn late. Sometimes very very late. We don’t need to keep up with the Farmer Joneses. Our corn doesn’t produce any corn. Just stalk. For the last month I’ve been plowing and discing the to-be-corn fields. Right before I plant I need to harrow them. Then plant them. And then rotary hoe them. Again. And then cultivate them. Again. Again.
Oh, and also during this same exact stretch of time, I will be doing the first (heaviest) cutting of hay. You remember, mow, ted, ted, rake, bale. On the other eight fields that aren’t corn.
Have fun in Cali.

I took my camera on my little trip. But I never even took it out of my bag. Ever since Up With People, I’ve had this incurable distaste for taking pictures with other people watching me. Partly it’s the feeling like a tourist that rubs me wrong. …I joined Carla and Ian on their Hefty shoot. And it was only twelve-ish people in a rather large and airy rooms, but I was uncomfortable with having to deal at all with that many people. “I don’t like people.” I used to say that all the time, growing up on the farm. You may be more anonymous in a larger city environment, but, shit, the people are still there. Sitting on a tractor has been described as lonely. But it’s also just away from people.

New links on the sidebar. Todd. 1001. 1001. 1001.