The summer heat was in full swing, though today wasn't as bad with the sun hiding behind the clouds. A figure, male old cowboy hat, white shirt, jeans, and boots was unloading bags of horse feed from the back of his truck. Stopping for a moment Chris took his hat off and wiped the sweat from his brow before putting it back on and hauling the next bag over his shoulder and into the barn. A week before the farm he worked on had been visited by what the city called 'negotiators' for his boss to give the land to them.
He doubted the land was going to the city, plus he liked working on a farm it was where he belonged even though it wasn't his families land. The income from the job was good. Sighing he stopped mid-step, still the old man hasn't told me what would happen to the land when he passed on. Chris shook his head no need to dwell on something he rarely liked to think about in the first place.
Starting to move once more he grabbed the next bag, and hauled it toward the barn. yet the city wants me to go to college instead of doing what they call grunt work. People from the city don't understand, a farm boy will always be a farm boy, even if he goes to college he'll end up with his own piece of land. At least for people here it ended up true people from the country didn't like the city. Too many people and cars where instead you could drive on a backroad for days and your only company is the radio.
Looking toward the road his brow furrowed at the dust cloud coming from the old dirt road that came into the farm. As far as Chris knew, no one was supposed to be coming today and his friends knew not to come and try to hang out with him while he was here. Shaking his head he grabbed the next bag putting that in the barn. For now he'd leave it alone if the old man had someone coming and he knew about it then Chris would leave it alone. Going back to his truck he grabbed the last bag going into the barn and putting it down with the rest. Walking back over he closed the tailgate.
A sigh escaped him, before he went back into the barn and grabbed the slop for the pigs. That's at least what he called it since it was in the word slop. Walking back out the bucket in hand he watched for a moment as the dust cloud grew closer. Shaking his head he made his way toward where the pigs pin lay. Putting the food or slop into their trough he watched as they got out of the mud and racing or if you call hobbling pigs racing to the trough to eat.
He doubted the land was going to the city, plus he liked working on a farm it was where he belonged even though it wasn't his families land. The income from the job was good. Sighing he stopped mid-step, still the old man hasn't told me what would happen to the land when he passed on. Chris shook his head no need to dwell on something he rarely liked to think about in the first place.
Starting to move once more he grabbed the next bag, and hauled it toward the barn. yet the city wants me to go to college instead of doing what they call grunt work. People from the city don't understand, a farm boy will always be a farm boy, even if he goes to college he'll end up with his own piece of land. At least for people here it ended up true people from the country didn't like the city. Too many people and cars where instead you could drive on a backroad for days and your only company is the radio.
Looking toward the road his brow furrowed at the dust cloud coming from the old dirt road that came into the farm. As far as Chris knew, no one was supposed to be coming today and his friends knew not to come and try to hang out with him while he was here. Shaking his head he grabbed the next bag putting that in the barn. For now he'd leave it alone if the old man had someone coming and he knew about it then Chris would leave it alone. Going back to his truck he grabbed the last bag going into the barn and putting it down with the rest. Walking back over he closed the tailgate.
A sigh escaped him, before he went back into the barn and grabbed the slop for the pigs. That's at least what he called it since it was in the word slop. Walking back out the bucket in hand he watched for a moment as the dust cloud grew closer. Shaking his head he made his way toward where the pigs pin lay. Putting the food or slop into their trough he watched as they got out of the mud and racing or if you call hobbling pigs racing to the trough to eat.