My favorite day of the year is less than two weeks away. It is June 21 when the days begin to shorten. One of the problems with being raised on a farm is that you are taught to work until it get dark. But by June 21, full darkness doesn’t arrive until after 9 p.m.
That means I am out there mowing the lawn, trimming the forsythia bushes, picking wild strawberries, hoeing the peppers, or pushing the Kentucky cultivator between the rows of vegetables to eliminate the weeds. The Kentucky cultivator has a big wheel in front and blades in back. You push it along like a Third World peasant. It is exhausting. That’s why I didn’t post last night. I went straight to bed.
On an rational level, I know I shouldn’t feel guilty coming in early. I know I’m not a real farmer like my mom and dad were. Unfortunately, guilt feeling don’t work on rational level. I can hardly wait until the days grow short again.
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