Exercising on the farm is a challenge. Turnrows replace smooth concrete sidewalks.
As kids we powered our John Deere 5-speeds up and down the chunky gravel driveway and traversed across the clumpy front yard while the pedals dug into our bare feet. Momma exercised by forcing the push mower through the overgrown dog pen and around every tree on the property. Underneath her cutoffs and t-shirt Momma wrapped her thighs and waist with Saran Wrap to wring every drop of water from her fat cells.
Now that the field behind our house has been leveled and irrigated, we have our own walking trail the size of the horse track at Oaklawn Park. Yesterday morning, with an unseasonably cool breeze, we set off for our morning hike around vivid green rice fields.
But a tractor got there first.
Disking the weeds along the far ditch corner and around the field, he kicked up a cloud of dirt and pollen. Shrill birds mocked our efforts, circling overhead like buzzards. We looped twice trekking through tractor ruts, dirt clods and brittle weeds.
When we returned home, our legs were coated in grime, but maybe we walked off a lake beer or two.
― Friedrich Nietzsche
