Farm Fotos, Vol. 2

Some of the pics in this post are self-explanatory, some are odd, and some are downright terrifying.

Birdhouse in Mama G’s tree. She enjoys trying to attract different types of birds. Smoke and I like to discuss whether or not we should shoot said types of birds (see below).

This is a sign you get when the farm has been in your family for over one hundred years. I think there’s more to this (a ceremony? tax break? other perks?), but as you all know, farm knowledge is not exactly my jam. #GoldensteinStrong #CenturyFarm #IHaveNothingToDoWithThat

Because nothin’ runs like a Deere. Smoke likes to point this out every once in a while, then take off sprinting across the yard to do more farm work. OK, he’s inching closer towards 60, so he hasn’t done that lately, but he’s done it. (City slicker translation: Red vs. Green is a big deal in the machinery world in the Midwest. As for my opinion: Go Green)

MamaG still uses a clothesline. Because of course she does. Guess which ridiculous diva wouldn’t let MamaG hang her clothes outside when she was in high school, because she hated the way her clothes smelled like nature? I know.

Your mom doesn’t have a watering can shaped like a cow? A watering can shaped like a cow that she doesn’t use, because she thinks it’s cute, and doesn’t want it to rust? Weird.

Smoke likes to call this his portable fire pit. He just rolls this sucker all over the yard, and builds his fires depending on the many factors that go into building a fire (wind direction/speed, number of guests, items to be burned, etc.). Smoke is a total pyro. I don’t guess that this surprises any of you. I may have inherited that trait as well). Now, I can only think of this commercial when I see it. (9 second mark)

Fly catcher. Because killing a few hundred of the trillions of flies around makes a big difference. *side eye*

I’m not even sure. But I’m fairly certain it comes alive at night and watches me sleep when I stay there.

That’s a gas barrel. In my parents’ yard. Technically, it’s gas and diesel barrels, and a few of the many accelerants Smoke has dabbled with using to start his many (purposeful and accidental) fires. It’s also the reason ol’ Beverly here didn’t really know how to use a gas pump at the gas station until an embarrassingly old age. “Like, wait, I have to put in a card?”