I never thought I'd be a farmer's wife.
As far back as I can remember I was supposed to be a nurse, a wife, a mother, a writer.
Suddenly, with very little warning, I was thrust into a world of dirt roads and grass, chickens snuck in a brand new portable building, and lots and lots of mud that later became chert that later became gravel, then stopped changing.
The woods around were okay, I could accept that. We got a new daughter-in-law, two grandchildren and a retirement trip to Alaska.
Then came the lifestyle modifications.
The woods were bulldozed away leaving our space open and bleak. The solace was gone and we became a double-wide on a ridge. Grass was next, then the fence.
Then THEY arrived. The cows.
By this time the cats were gone, Luke had shot the last chicken, Bullet had been acquired (big, gentle, previously-beaten German shepard), and Joe had married Terri.
December 3, 2003---I became a farmer's wife and I hate tomatoes.
