Lessons from the Farm

I'm blessed that my husband grew up on a farm. Land that was cleared by hand, and tilled at the expensive of his parents sweat and backs. His mother still lives there, and still runs things pretty much the same as she did back in the "old-days".

She rises early in the mornings to let the chickens out, spends her days doing hair (there's a small beauty shop right there on the farm for her) and keeping things going. She does most things by hand and is a no-nonsense kinda gal. Every spring she plants a garden, and every fall cans its productions. She can whip up a fried pie that'll have grown men fighting and quilt a blanket so pretty it'll bring tears to your eyes; all while threatening Chuck within an inch of his life if he don't get his butt down off that roof. Ole Miss Fay is the toughest, kindest, fiestiest woman I know--and I am blessed to have her as my teacher!

Her methods absolutely fascinate me! She can stretch a dollar further than anyone I know, yet one NEVER walks away from her table hungry. She believes in the old-time philosophies (like a man's only as good as his word and that Jesus is the Word) that modern society tends to shun and she isn't afraid to tell you so!

It is that lifestyle and way of thinking that I so desperately yearn to pass on to Hila Fay. However, in order to do that I must first learn them. That is where the adventure will begin since I have never been especially known for my home-making skills (I can, however, read 1,750 words a minute!). In fact, I'm more known for my unusual predicaments that I get myself into than anything else (hence my nickname of 2%). I know I'll never reach the level of Miss Fay, but if I can pass on just portion of it then I'll have succeeded in giving Hila Fay an immeasurable gift....and if nothing else, my attempts will be an interesting read!

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