Dear Farm Journal,

I can’t find my rubber boots, a crucial piece of farm gear at this time of year. I’m sure that I discarded them somewhere on the farmstead last summer/fall, when my feet got too hot. My love for being barefoot may have overcome my sense for keeping track of gear.  I hope they will be unveiled by the springtime melt. Right now I am settling for a pair of Rufus’s old rubber boots that have a major crack in the heel side of the right boot, about an inch and a half up the boot, which means they work great until you step into a puddle…or something else deeper than that. I actually enjoy sloshing around in the muck, if I have the right gear. It physically reminds me of the sliding of the seasons and uncertainty of groundedness.


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