Married To The Farm

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)

2 thoughts on “Married To The Farm

  1. 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.

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