Hiram and I ask the same question after every conversation with our kids. Can farmer genes lie dormant in one generation and then emerge full-blown in the next?
See, both our dads loved farming, but had to give up on their dreams – my dad due to multiple sclerosis and Hiram’s dad due to Alaska’s climate allowing farmers to grow more debt than crops. Still, Hiram grew up on the farm-turned-airstrip with the barn-turned-airplane hanger, so he knew enough about farming to know it wasn’t for him. And I grew up spending part of each summer with my cousins at their parents farms, enough to learn the following lessons:
- The back of a horse is too far from the ground. (Notice the girl wedged in front of her sister, reaching around her brother to get a death grip on the saddle. That’s me.)
- Gathering eggs is fun until the hens peck at you.
- Climbing a manure spreader makes you stinky.
- Falling down while climbing the machine that carries hay bales into the barn loft can result in nasty skinned knees.
- Hay is itchy.
- Barn kittens are cute until their claws dig into your shoulder.
- Farm animals smell.
- Weeds grow faster than crops.
The list could be longer, but suffice it to say that over the years, I’ve come to love the idea of farming more than the practice.
But our kids are a different matter. This weekend, Allen completed the fourth week of his ten week farrier school. After the first week, he was so tired he could barely talk. The second week was a little better. By the third week, he was pretty sure he’d made the right decision, and this past weekend he was positive. In the short term, it’s the training he needs to increase his income. in the short long term, its the next step in gaining skills required for life on an organic farm that uses work horses rather than motorized machinery. Of course, even his grandparents didn’t do that kind of farming. The horse-drawn farming gene goes back at least one more generation, maybe two.
But Allen isn’t the only one to inherit the farmer gene. His sister, Anne, who loves to sew and design clothes, is hoping to launch an internet sewing business soon. Her long term dream is to have a small farm where she can raise sheep and other critters, then spin her own yarn for weaving, knitting and who knows what.
So I ask you, how long can the farmer gene lie dormant? Can it mutate? How much is nature? How much is nurture? So many questions remain to be answered. But I can tell you this, watching dreams unfold is fascinating entertainment. And watching our kids evolve into adults who can attain them is an undeserved blessing for which we are grateful. When their dreams become reality, I will have only one request for the farmers.
Please, don’t make me ride a horse.
Cause the old gray mare’s back is still what she used to be.
Way too far off the ground.
