One of the traditions I remember, growing up on our small farm, was the purchase of new leather work gloves in the spring. I loved the smell of leather and the fit of the gloves. I didn't really think about the coming summer work, the hay hauling and related farm chores...I just enjoyed those new gloves.My father did not wear gloves. He used his bare hands. Even if the work was dirty or if the work required handling sharp or heavy loads, it was rare for him to wear gloves. I could not understand that when I was younger.
But I think I understand it now. Because now I would much rather feel the dirt, feel the limbs and leaves and grass, feel the rough wood, or the greasy mechanical part...than to have a layer of cloth or leather distorting that sense of touch. If I am touching something, I want a direct connection to it. I think that is a fundamental characteristic of the Dry Farmer. I think I understand it now.
My father's hands were bruised and sunburned, he often had blisters or scrapes. His fingers showed the signs of missed hammer blows or slipped tools. He broke a finger sometime in his life and it healed with a permanent bent. His hands showed the normal signs of aging...but they also showed the signs of wear and tear coming from a close connection to his work, his tools, and his environment. Some might say he was not careful...but he was...he just left his hands unprotected in their routine work.
I do not like gloves. I wear them if I have to, if I'm handling something really harsh...but most of the time I would rather just use my naked hands. And that preference shows. My knuckles often show scrapes and scratches and my fingers have slivers or cuts. I don't work in an environment as harsh as my father's. But my hands are beginning to look like my father's hands.
