“We love the land and we love the Lord, we work by hand and we mill the board. We till the field and raise the flock. Our food then goes to the butcher block.” L. Davis, #thepoetfarmer

vintagefarmwifeYes, besides being a farmer, I am a journalist and am known as #thepoetfarmer. I am a photographer too.  I am an anonymous one though my pictures have been published across the US and have been on the covers of magazines in Europe.  Why? 

Am I an acclaimed writer, author, novelist?  No.  But am I passionate about writing about farm life?  Absolutely.  I believe when one is passionate, their love for something shines through.  I try and have my photography do that too….to tell a story, my story…of my love for farm life and old ways.

I have spent many years working with my hands, touching the soil, pulling baby lambs and kids out of their mammas when delivery is hard, washing the produce and making soaps, salves, candles and more.  Yes, my hands, parched, tell my story.

This sweet little poem I wrote a while back as I was looking at my hands and pondering how I was going to use them that day.

“We love the land and we love the Lord, we work by hand and we mill the board. We till the field and raise the flock. Our food then goes to the butcher block.”

I swear I see everything through poetry and pictures.  Life on our ranch and farm truly inspires me, passionately.  I pour that all out through prose.

I tell my daughter, when she asks where happiness and meaning lie, that happiness lies at the junction between dreaming and doing, living and flying, wishing and achieving.  As she becomes older, I think she is beginning to grasp these concepts as a 20 year old.

I tell her that if she can do what she is passionate about, she too will be singing, dancing, drawing, writing poetry and skipping through her life – that is congruence.

I write poetry all the time.  It just flows stream of consciousness.  I can not help it.

When she asks me if I am writing today, I always reply, YES, I am happy.

So, that little poetry jingle above, started with me looking at my hands.

What flows out of you when you look at your hands?

God Bless! L. Davis, #thepoetfarmer

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