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The Gentleman Farmer

~ Found somewhere in a part of the country known as north Florida and south Georgia…

The Gentleman Farmer

Tag Archives: hunting

Stuff of Dreams, Stuff of Boys…

06 Wednesday Aug 2014

Posted by thegentlemanfarmer in Family, Living, Passages, Relationships, Sporting Life, time

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

archery, avon old farms school, bait fish, boarding school, fishing, golf, hiking, hunting, lacrosse, landlord, quail, roommates, savannah college of art and design, tadpoles, woodberry forest school

Do you ever think that life shows you, gives you, just what need, when you need it, as you need it?

stuff of boys, stuff of dreams...

stuff of boys, stuff of dreams…

Case in point, entering every day into the world of gentleman farming at Totem Hall, I pass a little corner in my home.  Until yesterday, I never paid it any mind.  It was just stuff.  But for some reason, for some reason, yesterday was different; I sat down and, as if for the first time, I saw the stuff of dreams, stuff of boys…

gotcha...

gotcha…

Blessed, our family has always lived surrounded by nature.  Nature has all sorts of bugs, butterflies, tadpoles, and baitfish that need catching by young boys.

boys and bows and arrows...

boys and bows and arrows…

My two sons and I like to hunt and fish.  After summer camp one year, one of the little rascals, maybe both got the idea of bow hunting and fishing.  So we bought an archery set.  Now the only thing left is the bow, the arrows are long gone.

walking and talking...

walking and talking…

I take long walks on our land.  Because of the possibility of running across a rattlesnake or water moccasin, just about all the time I’ll carry a stick with me.  For me, it’s better than a machete, which is too close quarter.

get up and fly, dagnabbit...

get up and fly, dagnabbit…

My part of the world has quail.  Sometimes even if your dog sets and holds, the bird might be a bit reluctant to get up and fly.  The boys use this strap to beat the bushes in hopes of getting the bird to move along.

full count...

spring sports…

Both the lacrosse stick and baseball bat are relics of the past.  My oldest son earned a varsity letter playing lacrosse at Avon Old Farms School.  My youngest tried baseball when he was much younger, maybe not even ten, in the end deciding the sport was too slow for him.

I did not even talk about golf, or tennis, or squash, whose tools of the trade you can see in several of the pictures.  And there is no way I can possibly describe how much fun I had teaching and then getting bested by my two, just a great way for me to grow up and stay young at the same time.

all gone now...

all gone now…

Okay, I staged this scene, but still, why not a bit of poetical license, after all we are all adults here.  The oldest is off to college in Savannah by the end of the weekend, moving into a home with four other roommates.  God help the poor landlord.  Then our youngest son leaves for Virginia and the start of his boarding school career next week.

Time moves along downstream like a river, always present, always changing, always there, never there…

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Farm Fashionable

17 Thursday Apr 2014

Posted by thegentlemanfarmer in Gentleman Farming, Passages, Style, Totem Hall

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

arrow, brooks brothers, business chores, clothing, cov-ver, farm chores, filson, fishing, hay, hens, home chores, hunting, jc penny, koi fish, long leaf pine, polo ralph lauren, quarter horses, russell moccasin, sears, st. john's bay, wigwam

clothes of the trade...

clothes of the trade…

Back in the day, before the deluge of the modern mail order catalog, I eagerly used to await the latest Sears or JC Penny wish book. Once I had the catalog in my hands, I would carefully go through the pages, picking this and that for some vaguely defined executive future. Happily ensconced in the world of Sears and JC Penny, I put together many an outfit to wear to the office, on the golf course, at supper, in the garden.

Here we are now; flashed forward forty plus years, and those early dreams of an outfit here and an outfit there did not quite turn out as planned. Dress at Totem Hall is nothing but practical. Horses, chickens, pine trees, hay fields, vegetable crops, fruit trees, and koi fish demand nothing less, and those are just the living entities that want attention. I have not mentioned the pool, barn, home, fencing, drive, studio, well house, all of which have their particular care and needs.

Above, spread out over the bed, is my day. Below is my day, in detail.

the basics...

the basics…

• Underwear
Brooks Brothers and Polo Ralph Lauren
(age and, well, age means boxers instead of briefs)
(southern boys always wear crew neck tee shirts, always)

the arrow collar man...

the arrow collar man…

• Shirt
Brooks Brothers
(the ubiquitous button down, worn out, frayed, usually Brooks Brothers)

might as well have the best...

might as well have the best…

• Pants
Filson
(if there is a better pair to hunt, fish, farm, garden, chore, or spreadsheet in, show me)

these boots are made for...

these boots are made for…

• Socks & Boots
Wigwam and Russell Moccasin
(heavy-duty, warm, need to fill the boots)
(ma’am, just bury me in my boots, please)

warmth...

warmth…

• Jacket
St. John’s Bay
(goodwill find, wish it had pockets, absolutely love it and I like browns)

the finishing touch...

the finishing touch…

• Hat
Cov-Ver
(my best buddy, very floppy, much worn in, much loved)

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Recent Background Noise

Perhaps my ennui stems from David Bowie's death. I read somewhere that we should consider ourselves lucky to have lived at the same time he did. I do. Many years ago, there was a girl in my secondary school, Debbie P., who was very hip, very groovy, and very pretty. Now I attended Catholic schools and so, as you might imagine, we had to wear uniforms, except, of course, for after-school activity, and that's where I get to the point of the story. Our school was putting on its big play of the year, I had a small part, Debbie was working backstage. One evening during rehearsal she showed up wearing a Ziggy Stardust tee-shirt. I was young, naive, not hip, not groovy, and not knowing who the ambiguous Ziggy might be. During the weekend that followed that rehearsal, I went to a record store and discovered just what David Bowie was all about. It was a transforming experience. Now some forty years later, I farm, David is dead, and Debbie is into Christian rock bands. Did I say ennui...

Recent Bedside Read

Granny's Wonderful Chair is still my bedside read for reasons discussed nearby...

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