19 May 2009
Nothing like...
...the smell of manure on the fields to, well, diminish a tad the enjoyment of a walk under a stunning blue sky without a cloud in it. It helps remind us, I suppose, that we're still part of the old heavens and earth, even when the earth is shining with heavenly splendor like it is here today.
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9 comments:
Welcome to my world!
What are you, a bunch of city slickers?
I should think that as Lutherans who understand the doctrine of vocation, you would be more appreciative of God's mask, the farmer, who spreads manure on the fields as part of the process of providing you with your daily bread.
And isn't dealing with a lot of crap part of the cross which the theologian bears?
One of my farmer uncles always says, "smells like money to me!"
Me: Suburb-slicker. Though I am the child of parents who both grew up on farms.
-C,
We hear that round these parts too. I take it as sort of an olfactory demonstration that love of money, then, IS the root of all evil... ;)
Horse manure = FAIL
Pig manure = DOUBLE FAIL
Dairy cow manure = WIN
Signed,
A born Wisconsinite who thinks there's nothing better on a cold winter morning than the warm rich scent of a well-cared-for dairy barn.
Garrison Keillor's hymn comes to mind. Sung to the Largo movement of Dvorak's 9th symphony, The New World
Lake Wobegon Hymn Lyrics
Morning light, soft and bright,
Wobegon reveals;
Early frost lies across
Farm and woods and fields.
Coffee done, I'll have some.
Step outdoors alone.
Look around, sit me down
On a slab of stone.
By the barn, cattle turn
Murmur in the pen.
Strong and pure cow manure,
I know where I am,
I know where I am.
I am home again.
Precious Lord, by our word
Simple gifts are blest
Creatures all, great and small,
Heav'nly love express.
Love and faithfulness.
Let the promise of salvation
Come by daily observation
In this farmyard, Lord. Be with us.
My old dog takes his walk,
Sniffing ev'ry tree.
Ev'ry smell seems to tell
His biography.
Chickens dash 'cross the grass,
Cats patrol the yard.
Seven geese marching east
Form an honor guard.
Then a small trumpet call
Ringing to the skies.
Three loud barks—ARF, ARF, ARF!
Wake up and arise.
Be in paradise,
Be in paradise.
First line, second stanza should be: Precious Lord, by your word...
Not my mistake, Keillor's website had it that way. :)
At least you can say manure and people know what you mean. I try to explain skunks to my girls and they have no clue what they smell like. There are no skunks in Kuwait. However, there is the lovely smell of sewage here and there. I just tell them that I'd rather smell that than a skunk. They still don't know what it smells like but they know it's BAD!
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