An Honest Day’s Work
I’m in southern Oregon yesterday and today meeting with representatives from The League of Women Farmers. Over and over in conversation with the women I am struck by their passion for the work. For growing food, mending fences, feeding families.
Some of these women supplement their incomes with day jobs that provide regular paychecks. But ask them what they do, and nine times out of ten, they’ll say, “Farm.”
There is contentment there, and dedication. The same can be said of these young farmers.
Maybe there is truth in soil scientist James Cassidy’s proclamation, “There is no work more important than building soil. If you’re having a bad day sink your hands into the earth.”
My work takes me all over, but it also takes me to the backyard, the garden, the woodshop. This weekend I’ll finish a story and begin writing another. I’ll complete the plumbing for my outdoor shower, split the stack of rounds that begin next year’s firewood pile, prep one of my gardens for seed, play with my chicks, and begin construction on their tractor. This is my work.