Schlepping

I once spent a summer in Berkeley, California landscaping and doing menial construction work.  The man who owned the properties had various piles of detritus that requirred relocation.  At one point, I recall that we moved the same pile from spot A to spot B than later back to spot A.   At the time, I was chafted at his lack of poor organization.  Now I find to my chagrin doing the same on our farm.

Owning a small farm means lots of schlepping.  Schlepping of animals and their feed and water; schlepping of bedding and moving of waste into compost.  When you think about it - most of our day to day activities involve schleping whether it is farm related or otherwise. 

Firewood, it doesn't grow on trees.

Speaking of schlepping, today, I moved a pile of hemlock branches that was sitting on the edge of the garden. I will buck this pile (and the other two piles located randomly about) into useable pieces when I can find a moment.

Schlepping carries a negative connotation.  I truly enjoy working on the farm it so maybe I should rephrase.  Sometimes life is about the journey itself, indeed, it is always worth stopping to smell the roses.

Note: Tractor is life-size.  These are jurassic roses over 50' tall.

My next posting will be comprised entirely of trite and overwrought cliches.