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Saturday, May 23, 2009


I recently took my two oldest boys out to the farm with me. I worked, they played.

Boys at play. We can run free!

The boys are afraid of chickens. They're kind of menacing looking, I suppose. My 3 year-old wouldn't come anywhere near. My oldest will feed them weeds through the window but keeps his fingers far, far away.

I imagine it would be a blast to grow up on a farm. Aside from the dangers of boys climbing on old equipment (mine discovered a very sharp disk plow in the field across from our garden plot). Yikes. And imagine how much colder in the winter. When it's -10 in the city, it's probably -18 on the farm. No concrete jungle to keep it warm. No wind block from other houses. Each year, when I inevitably consider moving to the country, I keep in mind these things... Also the cost! It's much cheaper to rent an acre every year. Still, my mind envisions being able to look out my own kitchen window to vast acres of growing vegetables... I'm a lost cause.

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