vegetable-made bones

“One farmer says to me, “You cannot live on vegetable food solely, for it furnishes nothing to make bones with;” and so he religiously devotes a part of his day to supplying his system with the raw material of bones; walking all the while he talks behind his oxen, which, with vegetable-made bones, jerk him and his lumbering plough along in spite of every obstacle.”

-Henry David Thoreau

IMG_5275I read this Thoreau quote on Bart Schaneman’s Tumblr this morning. Bart is a writer living in Nebraska. I picked up his travel zine Trans-Siberian through Pioneers Press. I hope he publishes in print more, reading online isn’t my favorite even though I find myself reading screens more and more these days. The internet connection on the farm has been weak and spotty this spring. It’s made us reminisce when not that long ago, we had no internet at all. We spent nights sitting around the cookshack playing games or reading newspapers. Tonight there’s a dance party which I promised I would stay up for even if I just lurk in the shadows. I’m feeling a lot better today so I don’t have much of an excuse to be anti social anymore. We opened the show last night. Lisa and I hid in the office with our dogs; letting the party find us and visit in our soft lit, wood walled space.

This morning Sonny was laying down in the field. It’s not good for draft horses to spend a long time lying, something to do with their internal organs. Scared he was sick, hurt or dead I ran over. His head on the ground and top lip folded up exposing his teeth, I called his name as I got close.

IMG_5494He sat up and looked at me like a dopey teenager wondering what all the fuss was about.

IMG_5496Then Jack came over, with his coiffed bangs.

IMG_5495‘Good morning, friend.’

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3 comments
  1. Claryn said:

    Love, love that Thoreau quote. Sometimes I wish I were the kind of person who commits prose to memory, for repeating in apt moments. That one would definitely end up in my brain bank!

    • lysette said:

      Isn’t it beautiful! Repetition, repetition. Once you muse over ever word in singularity it sticks, emotion helps too, maybe that’s why we can remember lyrics to songs years later?

      • Definitely. Sometimes I wonder what other people have stored in their heads in the space that, in mine, is filled up with punk lyrics. šŸ˜‰

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