What the heck is wrong with me, part 1

So I sat myself down to read this season’s installment of “Small Farmer’s Journal”, a magazine which celebrates the independent small farmer, with a particular focus on those who prefer doing things by hand over machine labor (eg, horses plow thier fields). It filled a gaping hole in my environmentally-friendly heart. But even as my adrenalene rose and my mind felt full of electrifying happy farm thoughts, I wondered to myself: “Who the heck DOES this?! Why am I sitting at the kitchen table drooling over the methods of hand-churning butter? Why do I have this inexplicable urge to grow stuff? I grew up in suburbia, and yet I can’t wait to raise animals? Is there anyone else out there like me?! (commence dramatic echo)” The kitchen table had no answers for me, so I came to the conclusion that there must be something wrong with me.


3 Responses

  1. there’s nothing wrong with you. you just really need to read some Wendell Berry. right now. his prose is at the bottom of this website:


  2. You are far, far from alone in these desires, let me tell you that. I’ve been trying to figure out how useful different livestock are, as of late.

  3. This is SO NOT suburbia!!

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