Dear Farm Journal,
I drift from task to task today at a leisurely pace. Sundays just always seem a little bit slower on the farm. We sleep in a little later, begin more gradually, and nonchalantly select the less arduous tasks around the farmstead. As Rufus makes his way around the yard with the weed whacker, I work my way down the raspberry hedge. I pull the thin strip of weeds that have come up in the gap of the black plastic and carefully readjust, tuck, and anchor it so the weeds can’t weasel their way through so easily and the wind doesn’t have the plastic taking flight across the valley. Later I give Rufus a pull start on our antique cub tractor with belly mower, and once he is on his way, I choose to spend some time weeding the easier garden beds which are either mulched or covered in black plastic. I’m only weeding in the outdoor beds today because the greenhouses are just a bit too hot for Sunday labor. I was nearly finished with the last bed of the day when Rufus waved me down to move a waterline so that he could mow that section of lawn. I run over to the hoses and there is a place where I can separate the hoses quickly instead of pulling the entire length of hose in from the field. Rufus is rounding the corner so I hastily untwist the hoses. Before I even recognize what happened, my thumb is pouring blood. I look down and there is a sharp metal hose clamp on the end of a hose that has been repaired, which sliced the inside knuckle of my thumb wide open. Ugh! I hurry to the house to give myself first aid and Rufus is left in confusion. Once I put my thumb back together, I just had to finish the bed I was working on. It was only another 20 ft and my Capricorn couldn’t let it go. I’ll just do it left handed, no problem. I finish up as Rufus is wrapping up mowing and he asks me what happened to my thumb, seeing that it was all wrapped up. “I thought you stuck your hand in shit or something, I saw you make a face”. Nope, cut it open. “I think you better be done for the day”. Agreed. It is Sunday after all.