You Know You’re a Farmer When

Mar
1


….your boots always look like this.


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Posted by Suzanne McMinn on March 1, 2011  

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Comments

16 Responses | RSS feed for comments on this post

  1. 3-1
    6:43
    pm

    Phew! I thought ours were muddy!

  2. 3-1
    6:48
    pm

    Oh joy, oh joy of springtime melts…

  3. 3-1
    6:49
    pm

    mine will look l that after we get rid of the 3 feet of snow! :cowsleep:

  4. 3-1
    6:56
    pm

    I’m ready for flip-flops!

  5. 3-1
    6:56
    pm

    Mine have been like that most of the winter.

  6. 3-1
    7:00
    pm

    Mine will look like that in a month or so…right now I still have cleats on them because of the ICE!! UGH….every path that was ever shoveled…ICE! I think I’m actually looking forward to mud season this year. :dancingmonster:

  7. 3-1
    7:49
    pm

    CW would love that!

  8. 3-1
    7:56
    pm

    I’m with Nancy on this one…bring on the mud!
    My hubby informed me that we won’t be getting to our barn again before the melt as the pathway is one big chunk of ice (just as well we don’t have animals yet!)

  9. 3-1
    10:06
    pm

    Looks to me like you waded out to milk the cow today. :o)

  10. 3-2
    7:20
    am

    My son must be a farmer!!!

  11. 3-2
    7:36
    am

    Susanne there is one more step, when you find yourself standing on one leg with one of your boots a couple of feet behind you sucked completely off. Then is real decision time, do you put your foot down in the mud or lean over and try and pull the boot from the mud. Luck.

  12. 3-2
    7:55
    am

    Joyce, been there, done that!!!

  13. 3-2
    8:11
    am

    Oh, but that’s a good kind of look.

  14. 3-2
    8:16
    am

    Then I guess I’m a farmer!

  15. 3-2
    10:14
    am

    I knew it that is what you had on when the Kmart people stoped you on the way out the doors (at least I change shoes) ha ha :wave:

  16. 3-2
    1:27
    pm

    Is that a picture of my boots?

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The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....






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