How many of you know the song "The Teddy Bears' Picnic'? I had never heard of it, or heard it until Yael stuck it in the car's CD player for Alessia. It was played several times over the next few hours and then my brilliant granddaughter decided to return to the classics - Baa baa black sheep, Twinkle, twinkle, etc. I, however, was not so fortunate.
It has been stuck in my brain for four endless days as I paint the ceilings of my rooms. Painting ceilings is horrible enough - even worse when they are attic ceilings and slope almost to the floor - but painting ceilings with Teddy Bears' Picnic on an endless loop in your head must rank as cruel and inhuman punishment. I heard it as I gloweringly faced yet another batch of horrible, inferior paint, as I watched the sheep and ewes from my ladder and as I edged and edged and edged the ceilings.
The reason for all this painting is that I come from the sun drenched Southwest and need light. I mean I really need light and sunshine and the feeling of warmth. This is a recurring theme. The first time I saw my rooms, it was a rainy, dreary October day and the rooms were painted a pallid gray/blue and so were the ceilings. It felt colder inside than out (well, almost).
So on my next visit down under I painted the walls a deep yellow. I spent $278 on paint - it has to be chemical free or whatever. All I know is that I had to mortgage my house to buy the stuff and then it turned out to be the worst paint I ever used. And I have used a lot of paint in my day. I have painted the interiors of new houses, refurbished houses, houses bought on spec, and now this. The paint ran; I can still see trails of paint and globules hanging on the walls. I was livid. And then I realized that I needed two coats. Actually I need three but I was going to die in a ditch before I forked over more money for more of that blankety-blank paint. So I stuck with two coats. Luckily it is usually fairly overcast so the imperfections are not noticeable to anyone but me. And probably everybody else but they are too polite to mention it.
It took me six months and a tour back in the States before I felt ready to tackle my ceilings. I bought a cheaper paint that worked about like the gold standard paint and needed two coats. I have been inwardly seething for the whole four days and the Teddy Bears' Picnic loop didn't help any. Then I decided to devote all my time to it and just get it done.
I got it done. But I also had to try to move the cows; shift the sheep, pull the weeds, trap the possums, catch the mice etc. This farm work is unbelievable. I once worked two full time jobs and had a life and still had more free time than any farmer does. There is never a day off; there are a wide variety of things that go wrong every day, starting with the weather and working outward. And yet these farmers get up the next day and try all over again to make it work. I understand it. I think I do anyway. When I get up in the morning and see the mist and the rainbow and the green, green valley across I feel sublime. But I don't have to get up at 4:30 am and I don't have much livestock, and I don't have barns and fences to repair, machinery to cajole into working for just one more day. I am a gentleman (woman) farmer and grateful for it. But I am much more grateful to all those farmers who accept this life and enable me to eat healthy, life-giving food. And to be able to give it to my granddaughters. I knew all this intellectually before but now I am learning it in a whole new way. And if there are any farmers out there who have a spare moment and are reading this, I just want to say 'Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I will never, never take you for granted again.'
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