I can hardly contain my excitement as I wait for Lisa to come and get me. We are going to fertilize the organic way. Considering the price of a bag of fertilizer, this is cheap AND good. I dress in old clothes. But I really don't have a clue what's ahead of me. We jump in the truck and drive to the chicken farm.
When I arrive, I discover that this old farmer is younger than I am. I tell him why we've come and he takes us to this huge mountain of manure. He says, "OK. If you really want it, I can scoop it into the back of your truck." He climbs up on his tractor and we are standing there ready to watch when he says, "You might want to get back in your truck and roll up the windows." Before we can heed this sage wisdom, we are covered in poopy dust. I mean head to toe! Up our noses, between our fingers - it's the nastiest smell I've ever encountered. It's all over us! We make a mad dash for the cab, rolling up the windows as fast as our fingers will move. We can feel the back of truck sink lower with each scoop.
As we drive away with our treasure, we feel like REAL women. I mean really! Who does this? We stop by the corner gas station for a Coke and a bag of peanuts. We've worked up quite an appetite. But we consider that our hands aren't clean enough to eat with. Should we wait til we get home to wash our hands? Nah...
The moral of this story...Everything washes off. I'd say we cleaned up pretty well.
1 comment:
Your story reminds me of years ago when my cousin & I planned what I dubbed "a manure & pizza party." We spent the first part of the evening shoveling layers of old manure and new from her barn, then ordered pizza for a rest & snack. There wad no going home first to change clothes, though we were able to wash our hands. Our kids & I have always said that over the years we've inhaled or eaten enough manure dust that it no longer matters. ;-)
Post a Comment