I wasn’t asked to write this season’s Farmer’s Almanac but I did it anyway in case they scout the blog scene for new talent come winter.
There should be some warm weather coming soon so don’t plant anything that needs to be cold. I know that if I leave strawberries out too long they get really gross so maybe don’t plant strawberry trees until Halloween.
By the way, what’s it like to be so dependent on the weather? Does it blow your mind that normal people use the forecast to plan vacations and make sure their daughter’s soccer game won’t get canceled? I guess it evens out because you guys probably don’t stress as much about social media as we do. Just as we have romantic notions of the carefree farmer chewing corn on his barn’s roof and watching a gentle rain storm slowly pass by, you picture us in front of a computer screen full of news and information, and a chat window connected to wide-eyed Brit who wants to know more about our pancakes.
I’m not sure why you need to know this–the sky has been the fuckin same since the universe was invented. If you’re scared that a full moon is going to mess with your parsley then you’re no different than the caveman who thought the moon was his wife.
Where do farmers go for fashion inspiration? Church and whatever colour a pig’s blood is.
How does a teenage farm boy practice kissing? By licking stamps used on letters begging girls to come visit.
What’s the difference between a farmer and a homeless person? A homeless person begs for change while a farmer wants everything to same the same even though we have greenhouses and the Internet now.
Why did the farmer let the pie cool on his windowsill? Because he doesn’t have air conditioning.
How many farmers does it take to screw in a light bulb? One to screw it in, another to go on and on about how the sun is better.
A farmer, a priest and a rabbi walk into a bar. The priest tells the other two, “god bless this nice weather”, the rabbi raises his glass and says “mazel tov” and the farmer goes “that reminds me, I gotta go shovel some cow shit”.
Gardening is a miniature version of farming so if you’re a farmer and you don’t know how to garden then get the fuck off the field. Telling a farmer how to garden is like telling a firefighter how to light a cigarette.
The city is a different place these days. If you want to get a haircut in the city you’ll have to go see a guy with tattoos and a beard who mounts skateboards to the wall, and no one knows why.
There’s nothing like spring’s first beef dinner and while you’re busy sharpening your killing scythe, it would be a good time for a refresher on proper gutting.
Force the cow’s head underwater until it stops mooing.
Make a lengthwise incision from the cow’s neck to its tail
Drain the cow’s milk, filtering out any bits of horn.
Rip out all the stuff in the cow that isn’t beef.
Throw out everything that isn’t beef into the duck pond but save the bones and try selling them to a trinket maker.
Have dinner with your favourite friends.