This morning as I got dressed, I took a good look at myself.
Under my nails there is dirt that I can never seem to completely get rid of. On
the sides of my thumbs and pointer fingers the skin is rough and soil seems to
have made a permanent home in the cracks. There are calluses on the pads of my
hands from carrying buckets and feeders and pushing loaded wheelbarrows. On my right forearm are the fading chicken
scratches from when we loaded them in to the trailer to go to slaughter. On my
left forearm is the burn from the frypan handle received while cooking supper
for 8 people last Monday has finally scabbed over. My lower back displays an inch-thick sunburn,
like a some sort of rural tramp stamp, from a harvest day where the bottom of
my shirt did not quite reach the top of my pants while I was bent over
harvesting kale and swiss chard. On my right upper arm a bruise from loading
the truck to go to market is forming and on the back of my right calf a well
established bruise from dragging irrigation pipes still proudly wears purple
and green. My left ankle displays a neat
swath of thistle scratches I got while picking raspberries. My sport sandals
have left a wicked tan on the tops of my feet, the once shiny blue nail polish
on my toes has been mostly worn away and my heels show cracks where harvesting
peas or beans in my bare feet has caused the skin to dry out. The tan on my
face is contained mostly to the area below my eyes because my forehead is
usually shaded by my ball cap. And mosquito bites pepper the skin on my body
much like my freckles brought out by the sun.
 |
| Lisa gathering Swiss Chard and Derek in the onion patch on harvest day last week. |
Beneath all this, strong shoulders from lifting hay bales,
hauling buckets, and packing crates to the cold room. I have strong hands from
milking 2 gallons out of the cow and pulling weeds for hours on end in the
garden. My legs are strong from hours on
my knees planting, leaning on the digging fork, forcing flexinet posts into
stony ground, running gates for the tractor and from the constant necessity of
walking across the acreage of the farm.
