A BIT OF BACKGROUND
There are some of us that have had the opportunity to live in a rural setting. However, there are many more that have not had that wonderful opportunity. To those who belong in the first group, the title of this article is probably a no-brainer. To the rest, I will do my best to explain.
The ideal of country living often times stirs up visions of weathered individuals in denim jeans, heavy duty boots, rugged shirts, and a hat. Although this is not always the attire of choice, there is a good reason why these items are seen so often; living in the country is not for the faint of heart. Life on a farm or homestead is not easy to say the least, as I am so quickly becoming aware.
If you have followed me, my family, or our homestead you will know where I am coming from. I lived the life of a suburbanite for over 49 years. Yes, I mowed my lawn. I weed-whipped. I even raked some leaves once in a while and picked up some limbs. I lived in an older suburban area. I was rugged. Well, at least compared to those uppity Homeowner’s Association suburbanites down the road. You know, the ones that had their lawns manicured for them and didn’t have to worry about all the things us tough homeowners dealt with. Then we moved to the country!
Ah the land of plenty! Beautiful landscapes complete with wide-open fields, trees everywhere you look, wildlife frolicking, and fresh air. Okay, maybe that all seems a bit idealistic, but when you are looking out at your own property and compare it to what you had just a week before, it is a heady experience. But we attempted to quickly adapt and the next thing you knew, we had farm animals, we were trying to grow food, and we were failing to keep up with the immensely more involved and intense “yardwork”.
This brings me back to the intent of this article and that is the appropriate choice of apparel while working on a homestead. Mowing the yard in a pair of shorts was no longer the best idea. Sure, I could do it, but we now have considerably much more to mow and maintain and sometimes, through no fault of our own, it gets long. Mowing tall grass with a push mower is not kind on bare legs. Lesson learned. More or less painless. After the first couple of weeks I decided maybe it was a good idea to put a hat on my bald head. Again, not horribly painful, but a hard-learned lesson. This country life can be brutal on someone not used to it. This brings me to the choice of footwear.
THE SETUP
This is a shot from our lean-to, where the chicken coop is and looking back at the hog pen. Both sets of creatures require our assistance to live and prosper. It is a task that I actually rather enjoy. Feeding, watering, providing bedding and shelter. It is rewarding in its own way. It was here, in this area, that I realized that Crocs™ are NOT appropriate homesteading footwear. They are comfortable and easy to get into and out of. Those two facts are well-known and I cannot deny them. But, they should not to be considered protection, unless it is to protect you from a slight wind or appearing on the front cover of GQ.
As I finished topping off the pig waterer and was moving back towards the chicken coop, in that lush green area in between the two, was when the realization hit me. Maybe I should say, when the realization shoved up through the bottom of my Crocs™ and into the sole of my foot. I had stepped on the remains of a small bush. The long-forgotten remnants of a woody invader to my property that had its life cut short by the punishing blades of a lawnmower. I can’t even begin to imagine the odds that I would step on this small vengeful piece of torture. We have 23 acres, surely I would have a better chance of winning the Powerball. But, nay nay.
THE DAMAGE
That white spot is where it went in, it was deep and boy howdy did it hurt. I am using very nice language here, as I can assure you I failed to do so when I was struck down in my prime. The pics are not great, but I believe you can see the redness and swelling that has appeared to the inside of my right foot. I tried to be tough, I hobbled and I limped. I may have whimpered. This is where I should remind you, I am a nurse, my wife is a nurse, and I work in a hospital filled with nurses. Every single one of them told me to go have it looked at. What do they know! I am a man, I am a homesteader, I can persevere. I . . . caved and went down to talk to the ER physician on duty. Now I am on two antibiotics, treating myself with pain medication and anti-inflammatories, and trying to keep the foot elevated.
There go the plans for the homestead this weekend. I wanted to get going on maybe some new garden beds, brush hog some of the overgrown area on the far side of our house, or maybe move more rock into the chicken coop to level the floor out as we build them a new home. But, because I thought I could homestead in Crocs™, I get to be sidelined until I heal a bit. Big lesson learned!