Finding a wholesale chow our goats might like, Thurman brought me two bags this morning to see if my pygmies might eat it too. (Cause that’s the kinda farmer/neighbor Thurman is…)
Southern gentleman through and through, Thurman is my gardening mentor, my almanac tutor and (without a doubt) this farm girl’s best friend…
He wouldn’t give you a plug nickel for high priced vet bills or me doing google searches… Nope. Wisdom like his comes from fathers, grandfathers, great-grandfathers (i.e. generations past) along with life experiences lived by the man himself.
I first met Thurman thanks to a mutual neighbor (who happened to be his rabbit-hunting buddy). I had mentioned to said friend that I wanted to grow a garden. Next thing I know, I came home one evening to find the front third of my yard plowed up and ready to go…(whathefrig?)
Next morning I awoke to a knock on my door…(I kid you not. If you WORKED for central casting, this dude would’ve won you a promotion. You find me someone who looks more like a Thurman than Thurman, and I’ll find you both an agent. This all to say: Thurman is the real deal.)
“I heerd you wanted a garden.” (I’m meeting this angel of a neighbor for the first time. Southern to the Core is he.)
“Figure you meant it,” he continued. “Gotta turn your soil before the frost.” (At this point Thurman is now my new best friend.)
Thus began my life’s 3rd chapter…(And my life long love affair with those who’ve done it for us….)
Ladies and gentlemen…You’ve met Rosey. You’ve met TJ. You’ve met pups and you’ve met goats. But I guaran-dang-tee you, you’ve never met Thurman until now.
In ways I so don’t even know…I say (out of habit), “Stay tuned…”