The Farm

by Minnia
(Cottondale, FL, US)

The Farm

A couple years ago, I decided to retire and move from my neat, compact apartment in the city and move to the countryside. I dreamed of a place with dirt. A place where I could get out and dig in the dirt and get my hands dirty. A place where I could to get back to nature.

I found a small house in the county with dirt, lots of dirt. I mean fields of dirt. Yes, you guessed it; I rented an old farmhouse, complete with a delapidated barn. At least I think it was a barn. To me it was just beautiful; it was perfect. I stood in the yard and as far as I could see, was dirt. Yes, this was it!

As winter bowed out and spring bounced in I began to get very excited. It was time to plant. Okay, how, what, where? Hum..I grabbed by seed magazine and I went to bed thinking of all the wonderful plants I could put here, there and over in that nice little corner. Yes, I had a plan!

The following morning, I jumped out of bed and made my morning coffee. Standing on the back porch, I imagined a few azaleas around the oaks, some dogwoods along the drive and maybe some petunia, marigolds and daylilies all around. I was really getting excited. I grabbed my keys and my debit card and out the door I went, headed to Wal-mart Garden Center.

I walked, touched, smelled until I had a buggy full of beautiful blooming plants. I may not know their names but I knew where they were going. I had a plan! At the check out the clerk smiled as she rang up my hundred dollar purchased and said, “Looks like to got your work cut out for you? “Oh, yes!”, I replied, “I live on a farm.”

Zooming through McDonalds for my second cup of coffee, I headed back to the farm. I get a kick out of calling it “the farm.” Yea, yea, I know, a farm has cows, chickens, goats and pigs but it sounds pretty cool to say, “the farm.”

Parking the car at the barn, I ran in to change into my farming clothes. Grabbed a bottle of water, my sunhat and headed out to plant. I picked an older flowerbed to start with; at least I think it was a flowerbed at one time. I pulled and snatched and weeded. I may have weeded out some flowers, I don’t know. It’s hard to tell without those cute little nametags sticking in the ground, like the plants from Wal-mart. Anyway, I would just start fresh. I pulled and dug until I did not have any fingernails left and my knees were killing me. I had piles of weeds, I hope there were weeds, and had no idea what to do with the rubbish. I decided to take a break, regroup, and come up with a new plan.

Taking my water bottle, I walked around the perimeter of the yard. There was a pile behind the barn that looked to be where leaves and rubbish had been piled up. Well, I decided this would be my new compost pile. Yes, I had done my reading, I know about compost. Since I could not find a wheelbarrow in the barn, I started carry the piles by hand. Ouch! What is this? Ants…ants and more ants. Ants all over my hands and arms. Where did they come from? Flinging the weeds down, I knocked all the ants off and went into the house to doctor my zillion of bites. After applying the alcohol to the bites, I decided I better take a Benedryl. How do I know I am not allergic to ants?. Is anybody allergic to ants? Well, just to be sure. I took the Benedryl and grabbed my note pad and went out on the porch swing to make a list of needed items. First on the list was ant killer, next was a wheelbarrow, next…..the Benedryl kicked in and I had dreamed of the beautiful farm I would have tomorrow.

Waking from my zombie nap, I looked across the yard and decided this was one big yard!