This is my first post. I am not really a dry farmer, or even a farmer. My father WAS a farmer, and his father before him, and his father, and his father, and...So I have the genetic heritage of a farmer. And then, my grandfather WAS a dry farmer. Over the years I've come to the conclusion that the characteristics I ascribe to a dry farmer are characteristics I find in myself. Now, I am not sure if my heritage is one of a 'good dry farmer'. What would a good dry farmer be like? In my mind I imagine his success would be measured by his survival. He would take what nature gave and make do with it. He would be stuck (ah, but that is a negative label)...he would be content in his place...dealing with whatever came along...adaptable would be a good word.
I'm not sure a dry farmer would write a blog. He would likely be random in describing his thoughts though he would have many. His ability to clearly state his views would be poor...but he would continue to share his opinions and state them as facts (for him they would be...however unfounded or imaginary they were).
He would likely see all things as connected. And, at the same time not really know how they were connected. He would see patterns, but not understand them. He would make things out of old, broken, discarded items...not really usable things, just things.
He would have yearnings for things he did not understand and did not have...but would not know how to get them. He would become engaged in all manner of 'chores'. Working diligently to complete them, sometimes forgetting why he started them, and then sometimes not finishing them.
He would have a good heart, and not intend to hurt or offend others; but his very nature would make it difficult for others to understand him. Or maybe, others would think they understood him, and assign a simple label like "he is a good worker". But that would not really capture his loyalty, his determination, his passion, or his ethics...for he would do anything for his family and his few close friends. There would be few that understood him.
He would enjoy nature (I think all farmers must). But being a dry farmer is a bit special; he would see the beauty in the everyday and the unadorned...just the way it was: a lone tree, weeds around a fence post, a ripples on water, or the rocks or moss in a river bed. Strange they might say.
He would enjoy music or a good joke, but not be able to dance or sing or tell a joke. An ability to appreciate, but not create. An ability to dream but not to achieve. He would enjoy life, yet be confused by it; always wondering why (for the smallest of happenings). And yet, given a chance he would tell you a story about why he thought it was that way.
He would enjoy food and rest; and cold water (especially in glass mason jars with ice cubes). He would go out at night to watch the stars, the moon, or the twilight clouds and feel inspired; he would watch a meteor or a thunderstorm and feel the power around him.
He would try to write poetry...remember he cannot write. And he would try to paint. It would not be pretty; and he would understand his folly, again and again. But, he'd do it again, hit by an urge, not remembering the last time, stuck in his desire, without the ability to manifest it.
This is not a discouraging story. It is just a story. It just is.
A Dry Farmer.
