These are the things I find beautiful. These are the things I keep coming back to. The light in a barn. The smell of hay. Chickens being their busy, silly, chicken-selves. I know it's terribly sentimental and goofy for a city girl to have such a longing for the pastoral, but there you have it.
I know the reality is that farms are dirty. There's a lot of poop to deal with. I get that. But there is something achingly beautiful about a split-rail fence, with a few cows grazing beyond. There is such a friendliness to the images connected with an old-style, diversified farm. Some would say that such a small-scale farm is part of our history, completely impractical in the economies-of-scale modern agriculture business. There are a thousand practical, ethical, well-researched ways in which I disagree -- and I'll get to many of them, I'm sure. But for now, while I sit here and daydream, the beauty is enough. I want to know that such beauty still exists. I want to be part of making sure it continues.