Green Acres - the Tour

If you haven’t read the previous blog post – you’re going to want to do that so you can understand why the hell Rita and I are touring 92 acres of untouched farmland that Rita is interested in buying.  This tour occurred one Sunday in August in what could only be described as a beautiful day to be outside – assuming you wanted to sweat out your entire hangover in 30 minutes.  

So it was Dr. Ann, Rita, me and the lovely, young couple who are friends of Rita's and are looking at buying some of the adjacent land.  They were the right age to be considering this endeavor.  I…on the other hand…looked like I was an "agri-tourist" who had bough an afternoon's tour of a "real” farm experience.

First, I am the only one who attended the tour in their best silver jewelry. 

Second, you can only get around on the property on a 4-wheeler.  And just in case you…like me…have never seen a 4-wheeler before, there is only 1 seat.  So anyone else coming along gets plunked on the metal luggage rack platform right behind the driver.  This probably comes as no surprise, but my ass doesn’t really conform to luggage rack design.  Throw in the fact that it was 90+ degrees that day and every time we got back on the thing to resume our tour, I felt like a brisket.  I think Dr. Ann screens potential buyers by seeing who can stay on the half-bar-b-que, half-mechanical-bull 4-wheeler for hours at a time.

The property includes an electric fence all the way around it and cutting through it in order to keep the goats in and other animals out.  Rita won’t let me near the stove, how exactly do we think the electric fence will work???  Perhaps she should reread the old blog on my attempts to construct Molly’s invisible fence, which I’m pretty sure was lower wattage than a livestock fence.

During the afternoon, I forget exactly how Dr. Ann called me a sissy, but it was something like “now I’m being a sissy too” after she coldly pulled a leech off herself or something.  Like one of those statements where you had been so good all afternoon at not coming out and saying what you’re thinking and then you inadvertently back into the insult.  Noted, Dr. Ann, noted.

As the day wore on and we spent more time chargrilling on the back of a 4-wheeler, talking about crop rotations and the proper number of livestock to yield enough manure for bio-dynamic gardens (what I refer to as the crap-to-crop ratio), I couldn’t help thinking that I did not remember this being in the wedding vows.  All I know is I just got a season-long pass to watch every Titans game, pregame and postgame show there is. 

We toured around for three hours, through the woods, the barn, every corner of the property.  I fear I probably saw the toilet, it just doesn’t look like anything this city girl would recognize.