Sunday, August 12, 2012


A practical, no-nonsense woman, she strides about doing what needs to be done.  No need to bother with small talk.  She's a farmer.  She slaughters chickens. It's part of the work of raising food.  Her long hair is pulled back in a braid. Her masculine-looking hands have dirty fingernails.

What I do -- music, dance, druidry, nature walks -- that's frivolity.  I'm trying to escape the urban lifestyle.  But what I do, it's just playing.  I go out for a coffee, I write a blog.  I rent a kayak.  Meanwhile, a farmer is shoveling the manure out of the horse's stall. These are not horses for equestrians to ride, these are the horses that pull the plow.

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