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skip to content menu home about photo essays selected columns 2006-2014 work in progress search for: the cruelest month — good riddance may 1, 2016 / h.s. connett / 4,795 comments april. good riddance, you miserable el nino-sucking record buster. you came in like a lion and you left like one, too. you fooled us arriving and you made us look like fools leaving. go away and don’t come back. don’t you know when enough is enough? didn’t anyone teach you that excess is a sin? can’t you put yourself in a farmer’s boots for once and see what misery you are creating? i can put up with mud. i can put up with rotting, bug-molested, weed-infested crops. i can even put up with smashed green houses and broken windows. what i cannot stomach is your excessive force, your over-the-top ambition to get in the record books . listen, i agree that we humans need to be put in our place. so you beat us down and we were humbled. and thankful, too — that you didn’t make us hurt so bad we turned against you for good. but why this destruction on top of destruction? in the dark, quiet hours before dawn, no less, scaring the living snot out of everything that breathes. the dogs jumped into the bed. the horses and goats ran into the woods. and the pigs — even they are sick of you mudslinging messes. they hunkered down on the back side of that ancient pecan, hid behind the massive girth of the mother tree, the reigning queen of wilbarger bend. and what did you do? you blew and you blew and you blew until the beautiful thing fell down. the queen is dead the queen of wilbarger bend there were so many other trees to choose from, some already maimed, some hollow to the core. but no, you set your sights on this most magnificent specimen. buffalo once grazed beneath it. comanches rested in its shade. generations of farmers reflected on its perfect symmetry, awed that something so grand could spring up from something so small. the queen gave this farmer strength and courage. she had endured all, had withstood what other aprils threw at her — freeze, drought, flood, wind. but not you with your el nino excess. first you spilled a foot of water on the floor and then you body slammed her from behind, in the dark, while we slept. the queen fell at 5 a.m. on the last day of the cruelest month. and you ran, like a coward, tearing up the rest of the farm on the way out. april, cruel april, you are gone. and soon forgotten. not our queen. long live the queen. rain or shine april 21, 2016 / h.s. connett / 5,108 comments of all the slings and arrows nature throws at the farmer, mud is what wears him down most. it as if soil, which he so loves much, turns against him, a hostile medium that rots instead of nourishes. mud defeats farmers the same way it defeats armies — one slippery step at a time. you can walk in wet boots for a day, even two. then skin starts to blister, muscles cramp, things rust. a soggy head yearns for the dusty days of summer. yet the rain keeps coming, pouring down other aggravations — mold in the air, leaks in the windows, pickups stranded in dirt roads that turn into little rivers. every inch of bare ground — from the outhouse path to the livestock paddock — reverts to a swamp. wood become a threatening jungle, thick with reptiles, mosquitoes and thorny vines. even his well-tended fields turn against him; underground armies of ants swarm at his feet; weeds stare at him eye to eye. and the rain keeps coming, red waves on radar swooping out of the four corners like some ghostly war party, throwing down lightning and high winds and hail. a farmer in sequin saw his entire 10 acres of vegetables torn to shreds by 2-inch balls of ice. in lexington, a farmer watched her rain gauge overflow in an hour, a mind-blowing torrent that drown chickens and transplants alike. and in brenham, where more than a foot of rain fell, a farmer friend watched his roads wash out — pave roads, that is! not only from above but the farmer is hit from below as well. he notices a yellowing in the leaves of his crops. they wave in the stiff wind, flags of surrender, but the rain is both blind and blinding. potatoes, onions, carrots. the skin on their feet is starting to blister, too. a slow silent decay. the farmer was warned, of course. “monster el nino” was in the weather headlines all winter. instead of cold and wet, the first half of spring was hot and dry and the farmer scoffed at this monster misforecast. as spring turned cooler and wetter, he considered a terrifying possibility — this could actually be a normal season; he would have a bumper crop; he would have nothing to complain about. then he woke up. this is texas. when its dry, it’s not just very dry, it’s a drought. and when it’s wet? this morning yet another wave approached from the west. the farmer didn’t bother putting on a raincoat — all his clothes and boots were already soaked. fumbling and cursing, he entered the mud pits once more to feed animals and close up hoop houses. the wave washed over him halfway there. head down, eyes stuck in the mud, he suddenly looked up as four figures emerged from the misty river bottom below. they were outfitted in rain gear. waterproof binoculars hung from their necks. they were smiling. these die-hard birders had come to scout the farm as a possible site for the greater texas birding classic this saturday. the farmer had warned them about the mud but they came anyway, arriving before light to experience the “dawn chorus.” “this is the time when they wake up and announce they are ready for business (or something like that),” explained their leader. the dawn chorus — waiting to be heard, rain or shine. how had the farmer forgotten to listen? the bird lovers smiled and waved and walked in the rain back to their truck. the farm stood in the mud. he listened. patterns in green and brown april 19, 2016 / h.s. connett / 3,669 comments took these two photographs after the big rains yesterday. only later, seeing them side-by-side, did i notice the exact same shape of the flower buds atop the cactus and the sand castles formed by the torrents of rain eroding a pile of sand and gravel. take closer look at the sand castles. those are pebbles that cap the tops — sitting precarious up there after their base was washed away. boonie, back from the brink march 26, 2016 / h.s. connett / 3,573 comments a waldorf student taking a work break yesterday with her favorite farm animal the vet said his chances weren’t good. the seizure had gone on for more than an hour. she administered valium and then we waited. he threw up something nasty and black. poison, she guessed. it was late saturday afternoon and the office was closing. not a good time to get sick. we carried him back to the truck in a stretcher. she handed me another dose, adding that his chances were even lower if he fell back into that stiffened, catatonic state that was so unnerving. good luck, she said, locking the door behind her. i drove back to the farm, thinking of the hundreds upon hundreds of visitors and friends who fell under boonie’s spell. here was our farm mascot, our kid magnet, our love machine, our loyal pet who could never get enough petting. what was the farm without him? i couldn’t begin to imagine. i lay him on the warm grass in the sun beside the barn. and i did what everyone else did. i petted him. and petted him. he stood up, staggered like a drunk, fell down. the fall triggered another seizure. i saw it in his eyes first, that rigid, far-away stare. then the legs shook, stiffened. do i give him the final dose now? and exactly how does one person alone administered a syringe from the rear end? and what was next if it didn’t work? nothing. and no one to call. no one to help say goodbye to 10 years of pure dogginess. so i did what everyone else did and i petted him, talked to him, maybe even prayed. something worked. the demon beneath the fur let go. i saw a tail wag. never was a wag so wonderful. the next day our resurrected boonie was once a

URL analysis for farmforthought.com

http://farmforthought.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/springpecan.jpg
http://farmforthought.com/2016/03/
http://farmforthought.com/2016/03/a-garden-in-every-school-a-school-in-every-farm/#comments
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http://farmforthought.com/2016/03/spring-comes-to-the-farm/
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http://farmforthought.com/2016/03/boonie-back-from-the-brink/
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http://farmforthought.com/2016/03/spring-comes-to-the-farm/#comments
http://farmforthought.com/2016/03/of-goats-and-gardens/#comments
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http://farmforthought.com/2016/03/nothing-bespeaks-spring-like-triplets/#comments
http://farmforthought.com/2016/05/
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Whois Information

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Domain Name: FARMFORTHOUGHT.COM
Registry Domain ID: 1967639251_DOMAIN_COM-VRSN
Registrar WHOIS Server: whois.godaddy.com
Registrar URL: http://www.godaddy.com
Updated Date: 2017-10-12T17:35:23Z
Creation Date: 2015-10-11T13:49:54Z
Registry Expiry Date: 2019-10-11T13:49:54Z
Registrar: GoDaddy.com, LLC
Registrar IANA ID: 146
Registrar Abuse Contact Email: [email protected]
Registrar Abuse Contact Phone: 480-624-2505
Domain Status: clientDeleteProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientDeleteProhibited
Domain Status: clientRenewProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientRenewProhibited
Domain Status: clientTransferProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientTransferProhibited
Domain Status: clientUpdateProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientUpdateProhibited
Name Server: NS01.DOMAINCONTROL.COM
Name Server: NS02.DOMAINCONTROL.COM
DNSSEC: unsigned
URL of the ICANN Whois Inaccuracy Complaint Form: https://www.icann.org/wicf/
>>> Last update of whois database: 2018-08-22T02:36:31Z <<<

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  REGISTRAR GoDaddy.com, LLC

SERVERS

  SERVER com.whois-servers.net

  ARGS domain =farmforthought.com

  PORT 43

  TYPE domain

DOMAIN

  NAME farmforthought.com

  CHANGED 2017-10-12

  CREATED 2015-10-11

STATUS
clientDeleteProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientDeleteProhibited
clientRenewProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientRenewProhibited
clientTransferProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientTransferProhibited
clientUpdateProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientUpdateProhibited

NSERVER

  NS01.DOMAINCONTROL.COM 216.69.185.1

  NS02.DOMAINCONTROL.COM 173.201.68.1

  REGISTERED yes

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