If you know anything at all about life on a farm, you know that a farmer spends as much

time on the upkeep of his property as the actual business of farming.

Grounds keeping duty is a full-time job all by itself.

There are hundreds of yards of fencing to men, endless acres of grass to mo, and multiple

leaks in multiple roofs that should have been repaired back in the spring.

Possibly the spring of last year.

There are barns that need a good sweeping, gardens that need good watering, and numerous

walls that should probably get a new coat of paint for winter rolls in.

No matter how hard you try to get it all done, there's always another chore to lurking

around the corner.

Well, Uncle Henry has his good days and his not-so-good days, but even on his best days, he simply

isn't physically capable of managing the farm anymore.

His fields are being sharecropped by a neighboring farm this year.

Corn, of course, always either beans or corn around his neck of the woods.

But the bulk of the menial chores around the property have fallen squarely on the aching

shoulders of yours truly.

A very stupid nephew who can't say no, to literally save his own damn life.

I've been dragging myself out of bed before dawn every Saturday morning to beat the traffic,

and then it's a full day of struggling with heavy shit beneath the merciless summer sun.

My crash on Henry's old fold out so-after a few beers on Saturday night that I'm back

on my way to the city on Sunday morning, usually with blisters on my palms and aching muscles

in my back.

...