Wednesday, June 22, 2011

farms are no places for computers.

the stars here, they seem heavy in the sky, drenching the sky, dripping in layers of gilt and sparkle. The curvature of the earth is felt in the distance noted between the tip of my nose and the gaping distance to the specks straight above to the stars seemingly at my finger tips when i only turn to the left.

the grass here, it smells like plant and heat and summer sun. It smells clean in the opposite way of bleach. It smells clean as in its the dirt and grass we came from, it doesnt seem so forgein as it coats your skin and even finds its way into nooks and crannys.

the potatoes here, they taste like butter and the dirt washes off easily.

the eggs. the chickens and ducks must be healthy because the shells are thick and take more than one wack on the side of a bowl. The ducks are ugly, looking mean in the red lumpy masks, their helpless hidden in ugliness, as if the scar and crocked nose of a pro boxer was enough to scare an opponent. The chickens wobble around the yard, Sarah randomly commenting " But why dont they have arms?! Dont they look like dinosaurs?" I am disturbed by the way the roosters take what they want from the lady chickens. The two roosters often fight and crow at each other, today they paced 20 paces apart, turned, and as if in a true western charged at each other colliding just barely before the young rooster hobbled back out of the way, all without arms.

The cows here, are big. But maybe they are big everywhere and my experience with cows is simply limited.

its late and i feel good, and clean, and at peace. the house is wafting with the scent of lavender oil, every few days overwhelmed by fresh baked bread and ocassionally tinted with the stench of earth and cow shit, which in its own way seems okay, every once in a while.

sometimes i wonder if the rooster will eat one of the kittens or if the goose is lonely or if the cows are really afraid of the sticks we use to keep them walking in line, slap of the wrist of a concerned parent.

some thoughts over the past few days:

oh-pa. Its evening here and the stars are out. I am waiting for the shower, stinky and itchy, straw sturn through my hair. today was a fun day, there was a lot of laughing and gimst-wine and sparkling water-drank in between tractor driving and hay piling. I imagine today sort of like a children's tv show. The tractor is red. 1-2-3-4 hay bales go in the tractor! Can you arrange the hay bales? It was more fun fun then it sounds, a puzzle, adult size building blocks

sure, my body is falling a part a bit, my pointer finger on my left hand stings with every tap of a key, my knee is mildly swollen and I am using all my self control not to itch my bug bites, oh and my hair is so dry from dust it feels strangely similar to the straw we feed the cows, but the farm, the farm is great. For those of you who don't know I am wwoofing, which means I am working on an organic farm in exchange for a (lovely) room and (delicious) meals. Its a romantic and dusty as a Stienbeck novel (although sarah says more like Hemmingway). Sarah and I arrived in Umag, the town near by at 6 am via overnight bus-lost in translation was this morning/evening 24 hour/12 hour time thing that is not so international. Umag's bus station is like any small town bus station in croatia, of course there is a cafe open most hours people are awake and unsurprisingly a group of young men are drunk, drinking more,  and singing at 6 am. We sit for coffee, all very croatian so far, so normal to me, unremarkable in most aspects.