So as I’m sitting here, supposed to be studying for my
Biology final and thinking that it’s probably more important to blog since I
didn’t last week, I’m looking around my desk for inspiration.
You would think I could find something somewhere, wouldn’t you?
On my wall, I have pictures of some of my cows back home –
Michelle and Marissa. I also have a poster from the National Dairy Shrine of
all 6 official dairy breeds. I’ve got two nametags: one from World Dairy Expo
and one from the Ohio 4-H Teen Conference held yesterday.
I’ve got an eartag, a post-it with a Harry Potter quote, a
post-it with the tag numbers of all my animals, two Ohio Dairy Farmers business
cards, pins, and various other trinkets. I’ve also got a small cow-spotted
picture frame, which reads “All I need to know about life I learned from a
cow.”
On my desk itself, I have a mug holding a duct-tape rose (it
gets boring here), two stuffed animals – an Eeyore and a sock cow with a small
eartag. I have a spotted porcelain milk-carton-shaped bank with “moola” across
the top.
Next to my computer, I have a DVD from Ohio Dairy Farmers
titled “A Day on the Farm,” which I plan to show during my presentations to
area schools over spring break.
There are a few other things laying around here and there,
but they’re not important enough to mention. What is important to note is that
my roommates’ desks have photos from home, quotes, and cards posted all around.
Why is my desk so much different from everyone else’s? It
could be because I have more wall space than them, but that’s beside the point
– even if I didn’t, I’d find a way to fit all these things in there.
I think it’s because each of our spaces show how we are as
individuals. There’s no one else on earth that would have the same collection
of tickets, cards, post-its, tags, and photos that I do, and likewise, nobody
but Liv would have as vast a collection of Vera Bradley merchandise as she
does.
Nobody but Lara would have photos from her reign as Ohio
Fairs’ Queen, and only Flannery would have a beautiful wall of her favorite
quotes – and cat pictures.
The point I’m trying to make, I guess, is that the way each
of us was brought up determines who we are as people. Some of my roommates were
raised in urban or suburban areas, not all of us were in 4-H or FFA, and not
everyone had the same experiences in high school.
My life thus far has been very farm-centered. My earliest
memories are of leading calves, “helping” my mom do chores, and petting my
mom’s oxen, Mick and Mike. I can’t say for sure what everyone else’s first
memories are, but mine have defined my life.
I plan for some of my best memories to be about the farm –
working on it, living on it, being with my family on it. Making mistakes, and
changes for the better. Learning as I go, and loving every minute. I hope that
some of my last memories will be from the farm, too, because that’s what’s
important to me. It’s what I want to do.
I’m really glad that I have this blog, and that people read
it. It gives me a chance for introspection, especially on-the-fly kind of posts
like this one. To come up with a topic without a clear idea of what I want to
do, I have to take a step back and evaluate what means the most to me.
It’s a beautiful day outside. The windows are open, birds are
chirping, the air is fresh. The sounds of nature here in Columbus are few and
far between, and are often interrupted by horns, beeps, and lately,
construction. But it makes me appreciate all the more being able to go home to
a farm where the loudest sounds I hear are those of skidloaders, tractors, and
pulsators, and the most common smells are the musky odor of cow and the pungent
scent of manure.
Why do those sounds hold such appeal to me? For some people
who visit our farm, noses are plugged and hands clapped over ears to block out
the unfamiliar noises and smells. To me, it smells like home.
I hope that it
always will.
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