The Old Fashioned Way

This is a demon of a tool.  The weed-wacker.  oh, men and women a hundred years ago would have dreamed of such an amazing tool.  Something that ploughs down everything in it's way with a simple motor and a sharp blade.  But there is nothing simple about a weed-wacker.  I should preface this with the fact that I seem to have minimal patience for modern technology. It sucks my energy dry.  

The raspberries needed pruning.  we have 3 rows, 400 ft each of raspberries.  The traditional way of pruning raspberries is to get down on your hands and knees and take out those trusty pruning shears and go at it.  But Don, after spending 1200 ft on his knees decided the job could be done just as well with a weed wacker.  This is probably true, if you are someone who does not have some incredible mental block and great disdain for all things that hum extra loudly and whirr with frightening speed.  I was sent out at 11 am to do half of the raspberries.  By 11:30 I still could not get the machine to start and was getting more and more angry.  

I am not quick to anger, in most situations in life.  Rage is not an emotion I feel very often, really, almost never.  But when I am out in this big beautiful field, the sky blue, the birds singing everywhere, and a damn machine which refuses to work.  I feel angry...really really angry.  Cursing the person who invented such a ridiculous tool.  

Luckily I had my trusty pruners in my back pocket and began pruning by hand, as I waited for this machine to deflood.  Thinking the whole time, this would go so much faster and be so much more enjoyable if there were 10 of us with pruning shears, instead of me and the wretched machine which drowns out all things lovely.  

So by 12:00 with the weed-wacker still not working and only about 10 ft of raspberries gone I decided to head back and see if the situation could be remedied.  The whole time cursing the machine for never working for me.  I threw the weed-wacker over my shoulder and picked up my safety goggles and ear protection to take the 10 min walk back to the barn, after an hour of pointless work.  

An hour, of pointless work...which led to anger and frustration.  Because the machine would not work.  And so I say to hell with machines...bring on the hands of people I love and people who need work.  Bring on work which draws us together rather than create unrest within the individual.  May we touch the earth, be pricked by the raspberries, and walk 1200 ft on our knees with a friend.

or remember to push the safety clutch in when turning the weed-wacker on.

 

this is part of communal blogging with friends. see cutting the mustard and golden green and blue days for other posts on this topic.