Farms; I painted my nails red

Today I went to a farm with strangers.

I could just leave this blogpost there and never elaborate on it but I guess I want to talk about it.

I went with my ecological anthropology class so they're not really strangers but they're not really acquaintances either. They're classmates. And these classmates tend to be on the "hippie-love-Earth-all-organic" side of the spectrum while I tend towards the "practical-I-don't-care-what's-in-it-I-want-to-eat-it" side. These classmates are mostly city kids or at least model-suburban who have very little experience with farms. I, on the other hand, grow most of my own produce in the spring and summer and come from a farming family. So it was fun to show that despite my comparatively capitalistic views, I knew more about compost and crop rotation than anyone.

This farm though. It was pretty small compared to others I've been on but it was gorgeous. There wasn't much to see as the harvest had already passed but it had a good deal of space for planting and the most amazing view. You could see the mountains and the house on top of that, green pasture after green pasture, and this idyllic little farm house. It was all so comforting and familiar to me and the compost smelled so good and clean I didn't want to leave. Plus it was a completely incredible day weather-wise. It was about 65 degrees with a light blue sky mostly clear except for a few light clouds. After my media class this morning I just sat on a lawn with my friend Derek for an hour enjoying it. So it was a shame to come back.

Especially since I came back to my side of the building where I live being blocked off for radiation. I'll tell you if my powers begin to develop.

Then I watched some early episodes of the Office and painted my nails red, smiling to myself. I was smiling because my friend Kelly wrote her final AP Literature paper on this great poem by Carole Satyamurti. It goes like this:

"I shall paint my nails red
Because a bit of color is a public service.
Because I am proud of my hands.
Because it will remind me I’m a woman.
Because I will look like a survivor.
Because I can admire them in traffic jams
Because my daughter will say 'ugh.'
Because my lover will be surprised.
Because it is quicker than dyeing my hair.
Because it is a ten-minute moratorium.
Because it is reversible."

Kelly and I spent quite a bit of time doing homework together last year and so I know the poem pretty well. I think of her whenever I paint my nails red and smile because Kelly is my fellow woman of science and education, who likes to admire her hands in traffic jams.

To finish off I'll leave you with a comment card from Derek on the presentation I completely pulled out of my ass during composition today. He says "That was just beautiful. I have never seen such a high level of bullshitting. :D" Thanks, Derek.