I’d love to own a farm someday. I’d have 2 cows, 6 sheep and 2 dozen chickens. I’d wear dungarees and plow my fields of barley. I’d wager the fate of my crops to the winds. I’d feed the barn cats scraps, and shoo them out the house at night. I’d oil my tractor twice a month, and complain about the bad market economy. I’d wake up at 5 to the call of the rooster, and make sure the cows were milked. I’d shake my fists at the youths running a mock through my fields. I’d build my house off the grid- not too far, I’d still want my fiber optic line for Netflix. Id build beehives out back, and have fresh honey come spring. I’d bottle it and store it- fresh honey goes well with baked bread. I’d run a bed and breakfast- teach the world of the ways of the past, before the automation took over. When man still had to earn his keep, make his own means meet. I’d sit but the fire on cold winter nights, and ponder the hours away as the flames ember to black. Farming would be my hobby, and medicine my trade. A weekend getaway, a retirement plan. Away from the cling and confines of the city- a restful location, where the birds still chirp and the grass fragrant. A weekend getaway that keeps you grounded. A way to switch off – mute the world for a minute.
But alas. the temptress that is modern society has already tainted my heart- these creature comforts cannot be forsaken for manual labor. Running water, electricity, store bought food- the spoils of a 21st century civilizations. We most definitely live in the easiest of times- no generation has had it this good; a culmination of centuries of wishful thinking.
The dreamers the artists the poets the traders the travelers. It took generations of drudgery and innovation to get us where we are today.
The modern world is a beautiful, destructive commodity.
Everything on Earth is a continuous work in progress. Wheres your mark?
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