what? i have a blog?

It seems like all I've done this summer is work for someone to make money to give to someone else. I bought my wood, my meat, my cows, my hay, my sawdust and of course supplies for the milkhouse. And always there is something else I want. A cast iron pot, a tiny yoke, a lantern chimney that isn't broken. But of course, this is nothing new. My friend lent me the lovely book Up in the Morning Early, a book of old photographs and recollections of Vermont in the 1930's. It begins with the poem "Farming It".

"FARMING IT" IN VERMONT

I've wondered all my life how 'tis
A farmer gets along so well;
He has so many things to buy
And such a precious few to sell!
His calling calls for such a snarl
Of tools, equipment, traps and gear,
I don t see how he saves enough
To go to Boston every year.

A legal gent can start in trade
With nothing but an office cat;
The town lot booster only needs
A little deskroom in his hat;
But Mr. Farmer has to have
An outfit, and that isn't all,
That outfit has to stand the strain
Of Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall.

He even can't slip into town
A day like this without a sleigh,
A harness, blanket, whip and lash,
A laprobe, horse and hank of hay;
While other "toys" that help him do
His work with neatness and despatch,
Are logging bobs, a traverse sled,
Some blasting powder and a match;

Two heavy harnesses, an axe,
A saw and sawbuck, adze and bar;
A hoghook and some candlesticks,
A tackle block and pot of tar;
A suction pump, a skein of chains,
Two kettles of capacious brass;
A barrel each for pork and beef
And soap and cider applesass;

Hoes, cultivator, weeder, cart,
A winnowing mill and Fairbanks scales;
A roller, cheesepress, pung and plow,
A hammer and a can of nails;
A 'vaperator, holder, tubs,
A sapyoke, pan and flail and churn;
A spreader, tedder, scythe and snath,
A grindstone and a boy to turn;

A sprayer, sprinkler, wagon-jack,
A canthook, shovels, stoneboat, sledge;
A nest of measures, baskets seven,
A beetle and an iron wedge;
A shotgun, fishpole, sickle, forks,
A government report on "Soil";
A harrow, barrow, sheepshears, vise,
Some Spavin Cure and harness oil;

Three kinds of rakes; horse, bull and hand,
A cradle, sheller, woodchuck traps;
A hayfork, planter, mower, drill,
An extry pole and holdback straps;
A ladder, lantern, saddle, dog,
An oxyoke and a yoke of stags;
A buggy, gig and lumber rig,
And last, a span of working nags.

No other business or profesh
Can come within a hunderd miles
Of such preparedness, and yet
The buying farmer buys and smiles;
He knows that when he fades away
The auction bill will spread his fame,
And show, although his name be Smith,
That he had something to his name.