At first, annoyed I tried to brush it away, that tickle on my finger. But it was insistent. When I looked down at my hand I saw the piece of hay complete with a shaft of dried hulls where the seeds once were.
Then I held out my hand palm down, fingers spread, as a person might when showing off an engagement ring. And I smiled leaving the hay exactly where it was.
When I did look up there was Jon naked at the gate. He’d been taking pictures of how the sun was coloring the landscape as he does every morning.
“Look,” I said holding my hand out to him, “there’s hay in my ring.” He studied it a moment, then took a picture and asked me what it meant.
“It means I’m married to the farm,” I said, then touched my cold hands to his bare skin and kissed him.
(You can see the landscape photo that Jon took this morning here)
Yes, those that farm are married to it. I never realized how much so until I managed our farm in SW Va. Talk about a radical change from the rented farm in NJ 9 acres, vs 80 acres.
That’s a whole other kind of commitment Christina.