The Bent Tree in their "front yard"
My Aunt and Uncle asked me about NY - my reasons for going, how long would I be there, was this permanent? And, my answer has been: Who knows? We'll see. I may hate it and turn around in a weeks time and say it's not for me. I just don't know.
The next morning, seeing the beauty of living a life like this made me question myself. Maybe I could just stay and be a farmer's assistant? Do they have jobs like that?
The lead Farm Cat at Sunrise
Zor, the lead Farm Dog
The Farm Cats eating leftovers of last nights cantaloupe.
The farming I could deal with, the ranching not so much.
Btw, did you know there are Feral Hogs? Who knew?? The hogs are rooters, and dig up the crops, so there are people who capture them, take them to auction and get about $150.00 per hog. Apparently Feral Hogs are leaner and better to make sausage with. I asked my Uncle isn't that like the people that rifle through recycling bins to turn them in for cash? I mean, is this a job?
My Uncle, I swear without a hint of "whaddya you an idiot?" said:
"Yes, they're called trappers."
Oh.
My Uncle on his cell - Modern Day Rancher.
Talking to and watching my Uncle farm his land is interesting in the sense that he has such compassion and respect for Mother Earth, and yet the Ranching aspect of it, well, hmmm. I was briefly conflicted. I am not the big meat and dairy eater.
But really when you look at it, it's a hell of a lot more honest - as opposed to purchasing your meat prepacked at the market, isn't it?
A Bull and his babe.
Listening to my Uncle talk about the corporations and computers taking over the farming and ranching, is sad. Just another area where "big business" has pretty much taken over .
My Uncle is a third generation Texan Rancher and Farmer.
Small farmers rarely stand a chance these days.
My Uncle told me he'll never vote for another Ivy League President.
No Clinton, No George W, No Obama.
None of that Skull and Bones crap.
Though, he does have 2 photos of Bush Sr and the wife in the house.
(a friend of mine in DC told me that's because Bush Senior was considered a "real" politician)
My Uncle is a dyed in the wool Texas Aggie.
After my Uncle checked my car, and my Aunt packed a shopping tote bag with food for me, it was time to leave.
Watching my Aunt walk away is hard. In her, I see myself, I see my Mother, I see history. She tells me over the years how she sees herself in me. She shares secrets with me that make me smile, and some that make me sad.
She does the exact same thing I do, or rather I do what she does. We scurry away if we know the tears are going to come.
The tears were absolutely going to come. No chance that they would not.
Happy (2nd in command), and Zor see me off.
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