A Farmer’s Uniform

I finally got around to participating in Rachel’s photo fest. Click on the Wordless Wednesday with a Twist picture to see more of the entries–this weeks theme is “Uniform”. You can even vote. I’ve only had three or so weeks to prepare for this, but I decided to take my pictures this afternoon. Procrastinate much?

Get off topic much? Ahem. Anyway…

A seed cap hat. Note the slogan–For the way you farm. Eyes squinted from years of working out in the sun. A wry, I’m-only-putting-up-with-you-because-I-love-you-so-much smile.

Mud splattered shirt from going out to check the cows on the four wheeler. Tanned neck. White back. Also known as a farmer’s tan. There’s a reason. Dirty bum from crawling under machinery to fix it. Quit looking at his bum. Cheeky monkey!

Chore boots. The only thing that will keep you dry out in the cattle yards. Also known as (manure)kickers–I can’t say the real thing in polite company.

Dust mixed with grease and oil and other unidentifiable stain makers. Kinetic watch because he’s never not in motion. Cell phone so he can let me know when he’s running late. Preferably before he’s already late.

Hands that work hard to feed our family. Hands that take care of us. Strong hands. Calloused hands. Permanently dirty hands. Hands that tenderly hold me. Hands that tickle the toddler. Hands that comfort. Hands that feel his baby stir within me. Hands that wipe away tears. Hands that cover his mouth in mirthful laughter. Hands that sign the loans to buy the farm. Hands that pay the bills. Hands that swoop a preschooler up over his head. Hands that hold soft baby ones. Hands of the man I love. Hands of a farmer–of the man I never knew I needed but that I couldn’t live without.