Farming: the hardest part

The hardest part about farming is my boss, It's not the heavy lifting, the insatiable hunger, the grotesqueness of the dead hole, or the bloodiness of the home butchering. It's not the smell of the poultry brooder, the long commute, or the stink from a cooler that didn't get washed after delivering fresh meat. It's not the meat, even though I have experienced vegetarianism. It's not even cleaning up the $#!@ from the chicken brooder or the lamb jugs; thankfully I have a hanky!

From the moment I set eyes on him I've been wary. He looks and is different than he sounds on the phone, and that might be the biggest indicator. I'd like to think that it's all just under the guise, as of yet unexplored, "natural therapy". The thought being: that its just a form of being, like my good friend, 'Felix', who slips into playing "Devil's Advocate" once in a while to challenge our convictions anmd principles. It might even just go to show me that I shouldn't be so judgmental or prejudiced. I am, after all, finding renewed strength in my ability to stay calm, relax, and grow nonviolently. Nonviolence has found a new challenge in my life. I relish in this freshness.

This is the abattoir, or home butchering area in the pig barn. The sun is setting and we've just finished for the day. It was a long
day as we slaughtered at least six, maybe
nine lamb for Greek Easter orders. I took
this picture because I wanted to try and
capture the stillness of this space that still
vibrates after so much happening. It is, also,
I think, a good photo-metaphor for my boss
who can fill a space without even being there