I have had the opportunity to spend time in the agricultural belt of California. No, California is not all movie stars and swimming pools. We have plenty of cows grazing and corn growing. I have absolutely fallen in love with it all. The rolling hills and pastoral scenery have truly unearthed my inner country girl.
Oh sure, I have always enjoyed my visits to the lush rural areas around the USA. How can you not love it? The people are so sweet and genuine; the lifestyle so simple, yet so rich. It’s like living in a Norman Rockwell painting for a little while. In previous times, I always looked at my trips to these regions as just relief from the chaos of the big city. I would go and take in the fresh air, eat a couple of biscuits, pet a goat and be back again to the city life in no time.
On this last trip, I felt like I belonged there. I could imagine myself in a cute little farm house with a big front porch. I could raise my own herbs and vegetables and bake my own bread. I was so excited about the thought of an uncomplicated life on the farm; I could not wait to tell my sister. I explained to her that because of my recent experiences in the country, I think I have found the real ME. She looked at me oddly, but it wasn’t the first time so I just went on and on, describing the lace curtains in my windows and the rockers on my porch. Every detail was so clear to me.
She was kind enough to listen to me until I finished, then nearly fell off her chair with laughter. “WHAT?” I said. “What’s so funny?” She could hardly put a sentence together through all the hilarity, but at one point she asked me something about whether or not I had ever seen “Green Acres” on television.
Well, it seems that my sister thinks that the country does not suit me at all and that I know nothing about living outside of the big city. She is only half right. I DO like the country, and the fact that I don’t know a lot about it is not my fault! I want to learn, but it’s not that easy. They keep it all a big secret.
For example, my sister and I were recently driving through the farmlands of Central California. We sucked in the tranquil beauty and clean country air. There were miles and miles of fields and orchards on both sides of us. Each patch had something different growing. I was fascinated to know what everything was, so I asked my sister. She didn’t have a clue either. We decided to pool our agricultural competencies and it seems that between the 2 of us, we know corn, cotton, and grapes. Everything else was a big mystery.
I think there should be a law that if you grow a field full of stuff, you should have to post a sign to say what it is. When you travel down a road, there are signs to tell you that there are bumps, or animals or railroad tracks ahead. If there is a point of interest along the way, there will be sign telling you so. What would be the big deal of putting up a sign to educate us city girls as to what alfalfa or Brussels sprouts look like when they are growing? And it wouldn’t hurt if they did the same thing for the animals.
I got the sheep thing down pretty well, but you have to remember that the only animal I see on a daily basis is a poodle, so I could use some help. Is a pig the same as a hog? What are those funny looking hump-backed camel-cows?
Maybe there should be a class you take before going to live in the country. I would take it in a minute! I could learn the country language and incorporate words like “y’all” and “yonder” into my vocabulary. I want to learn to square dance and drive a pick-up truck. Now I am excited! If I drove a pick-up truck, everyone would know that I was a real country girl.
They come in pink, don’t they?
