I married a farmer.
Ok, well, I really married a social worker...who was a farmer...who became a prison guard...but stayed a farmer.
Following? Me either.
When the farming life is spun by those who live it, they tell you about the "together" time (sweating in a field praying you can go pack as soon as possible), the money (which is good most years...like this one...but scary during other years...and, thankfully, not the day job for either one of us), and all the time in God's great outdoors (sweating your...well, you get the picture).
What they don't tell you is the possibility of being a spectacle. It shouldn't be news, but I guess it often catches me off guard.
I'll wave back.