Faaarm livin’ is the life for me

Friday, May 25th, 2007

It’s raining cats and cows here today. In fact, we’ve had so much rain, the water is all the way up to the dock in the tank. As luck would have it, or maybe I should say, as Mother Nature would have it, we’re open this weekend. If it keeps up, we'll be having a Mud Fest instead of a Lavender Fest. So much for experiencing a day in Provence. I can hear it now: “Thank you for visiting Hummingbird Farms. Oh, you drove 150 miles to enjoy strolling the fields and cutting lavender? Did you by chance bring a pair of Wellies?"

Looks like a definite wellie week at Hummingbird Farms. Of course I just hate the wellie weeks because I don’t have anything cute to wear with them. My ability to accessorize with Wellies is just so, well, limited.

I will just have to channel my hero and see what she would do. Her ability to accessorize is simply astonishing. I know I’ll never be her, but oh, how I’ve gained my strength from her. Not just my accessorizing strength, but all my strengths.



She’s every WOMAN to me. I just wish I could crawl up my telephone pole and call her to see how she dealt with the everyday struggles of farm life. She had such class, such strength, and such style.

Not 10 minutes ago I found myself in a quandary. It made me wonder what she would do… How would she handle this dilemma?

I had finally finished up my work and actually found myself with time to spare. Due to the rain I couldn’t go outside, I didn’t want to straighten up the house because muddy animals were running in and out, and of course cleaning in my house is pretty much useless. So, I decided to do what I always do when I have a moment to spare: lounge in my tub, you know, it’s my favorite hobby. I will take some much needed time to lounge about and channel my MENTOR for a bit.

I go upstairs to get prepared. I put a little lavender oil in my diffuser, get a clean fresh towel, get my HF No. 152 Body Wash off the shelf, have my miracle in a jar No. 9 Lavender Spa Treatment next to the tub, lower the lights for some ambiance, and just when everything is completely in order for my moment, I reach down to turn on the water.

What’s wrong? Nothing’s coming out. It’s a slow drip at best. It’s a trickle, trickle, drip, drip. Are you kidding me?

I stomp downstairs to yell at Jack for a bit. “What have you done to the water? Don’t you know I’m getting ready to take a bath?”

It’s just another typical Green Acres moment. No water. It looks like we’ve had so much rain that mud has gotten in the filters in the well and clogged everything up. How in the world am I supposed to look like THIS, while wearing wellies, and greeting customers when I can’t even bathe?

Darling I love you, but give me Park Avenue …

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