FarmWife, content and fulfilled though she remains, does occasionally indulge in wishing. This is a peculiarly human trait. While I, Fenway Bartholomule, may occasionally reach for a tender bite of grass that lies just out of reach, I don't google seed vendors or compare the relative prices of hay in Florida and New Hampshire. I leave that sort of fantasizing to the humans, and FarmWife does plenty for the both of us.
Here are a few of FarmWife's modest material wishes; that is, a list which excludes big ticket items like the eight-stall barn and the 40 acre woodlot.
Notice a theme?
Yes, my friends—I am as important in her daydreams as I am in her reality. It's a lovely thing, and there's a lesson in it . . . really, FarmWife has everything she needs.
Ears to you,