My Parents Were Awesome

yeomen farmers and sharecroppers

"Farming is everybody's bread and butter" (bumper sticker on my grandpa's truck)

I grew up on farms like this one:

(yes, my grandfather's truck lacks a drivers' side door)

And this one:

(that's my backyard)

It's weird to me that so many people in this country have never even been to a farm. Most Americans have lost all connection to the soil, and whether you live in LA or NOLA, it is the soil which keeps you and I alive. Farmers feed you at every meal, every day. 

Farms are beautiful, wonderful places. Places where I learned about how plants, animals, and people grow. Places where I learned about seasons: nature's seasons, and the seasons of life.

My grandfather is old now, but he still tends his farm, the same farm my mother and aunts grew up on.

When I think of "home" I think of a farm somewhere in the green, rolling hills of Tennessee. A place where you can reach out and touch "life"; a place where I feel a part of time, feel connected to my family, and remember who I am, and where I came from. 

To that land every drop of my blood, every fiber of my being, every pulsation of my heart, is consecrated forever. I was born of her womb; I was nurtured at her breast; and when my last hour shall come, I pray GOD that I may be pillowed upon her bosom and rocked to sleep within her tender and encircling arms. - Edward Ward Carmack (1858-1908), United States Representative, Tennessee

blogging

I'd really like to write something interesting. But I can't force it out.

I've had all these epiphanies lately, the big kinds.

It's hard to put big, beautiful, wonderful things you realize about your life down into words. Especially when you're handicapped by not being a particularly good writer.

Here's a small thought:

Women + Children = Beautiful.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the kind of woman I want to end up with some day.

One major requirement: she has to love kids.

I love kids. I want kids. Yeah, I'm 24 and sometimes, sometimes I feel that "nesting" instinct kicking in.

This is my cousin Laney (and that is MY corn, which she stole off my plate). Someday, I want a daughter like her.