Ruffled Feathers and Spilled Milk

Farming with ducks and dairy goats, chickens and children.

O, Farmer, Wherefore Art Thou?

Posted on | July 23, 2010 | 1 Comment

It’s me, the garden.

I’m just wondering where you are.  Because I haven’t seen you in a while.  And there’s trouble down here.

There are deer eating the cucumbers.

There is a rabbit devouring the Swiss Chard.

If you stop by to chase out those critters, you might want to check out the peppers.  They’re falling over because you never got around to putting in a cage for support.

And something has gone wrong with the Three Sisters Garden.  The pole beans are pulling down the corn stalks and smothering the squash.  Perhaps a few stakes are called for?

Hello?  Are you there?

The herbs desperately need to be cut back.

I just don’t understand.  Why aren’t you coming?

There are some pretty flowers to look at.  Come see the pretty flowers, farmer.

Oh, and bring the Castille soap spray.  Because there are squash bugs.

And ants.

Yep.  Beetles.

Bring the lawnmower, too.  Because the garden path doesn’t need to be weeded. It needs to be mowed.

Why are you treating me like this?  Have you forgotten what I gave you last time you were here?

And the time before that.

But now you just leave my bounty unharvested…

…my crops overgrown and inedible…

…my riches left to rot in the field.

Have you no shame?  Should I have your mother call and remind you about the starving children in China?  Can you hear me?

Help! I am blighted!


And what the hell is this?

Oh.  I see.

Well, well, well.

Didn’t we talk about this last summer?

You said this year it wouldn’t happen.

Yes, I know you’re busy.

With so many stressful summer responsibilities.

Fine.  Whatever,  See you in August.

And you call yourself a “farmer”.  Please.


One Response to “O, Farmer, Wherefore Art Thou?”

  1. Annabelle
    July 24th, 2010 @ 8:01 am

    Exactly!once again you take the words out of my tired mouth! except for me, I am nursing a sick buckling, my pregnant self and I think my dairy herd might have lice! Sorry tomatoes, I’ll send the toddler in to pick some when they’re ready.

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