Monday, March 24, 2008

My father, back row, third from left.

The funny thing- he really hated being a farmer. He was awful at it, we never made any money, he had poor business sense.

Those years on the farm made me who I am, in many ways (not afraid of hard work, able to identify strange artifacts, an appreciation for animals), but I hated every fucking minute of it.

And yet I find that I wouldn't mind having a chicken coop and a nice garden, except nice Midwestern gardens don't grow in Tucson.

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