Farm
Slang:
Who knew
Settin’ Tubes
Was so technical?
My irrigation specialist!
An hour earlier:
Slang
It!
I node
I shoulda
Set those tubes fur bed.
Hay-el, Now the dern ditch is dry!
And with that my obsession with Fibs is over. I knew I would not be able to commit!
And for the record…my irrigation specialist is a well spoken civil engineer…but the fib sort of fit our day.
#urbanpoetrychallengeslang
Check out the details to the challenge.
First some context:
I might have found a new hobbie (ridiculous obsession?). All day I have wondered how I could write a fib about different topics. So indulge me…I don’t know how long this will last, but I do know it will run its course and then I will move on to something equally, if not more, annoying.
Along with this new obsession, I have also been thinking about a Twitter teaching conversation found at #MathConceptions and #TWOTCW. The first question in the conversation is: What is your learning statement?
And now the fib:
To
Learn,
Process
Seek input
Look for connections
Apply, modify and repeat…
I am not fibbing…ha ha…it is a real thing. The goal is to use only 20 syllables in six lines. The number of syllables for each line follows the Fibonacci sequence.
Here is my first attempt:
Toy
Cars
Spiral
On the deck
Proving I am not
Able to contain my messes.
If someone would clean them up, I would be quite relieved…
….has never been a label that fit me!
I hated daddy daughter parties and when we were asked to dance with our parents at the end of the year dance recitals at school, I was mortified.
He loved the mountains, riding horses and raising sheep. Everything I did not appreciate as a child. I never followed him to auctions. I was afraid of animals and got bucked off (in his opinion, I fell off) of every horse I rode. 
They called him Rip. Some believed it was because he could rip you apart. This was a card he played well when I started dating. He never really said much to my dates. The only guy I dated whom he liked, smelled like cows (a hazard of working at a dairy). And his way of telling my boyfriend it was late and time to go home was walking through the living room in his tightie-whities.
He seemed larger than life and far different from me…but there are some memories of him that I hold very dear.
Snuggling with him in his orange rocking chair. Rubbing his crew cut, because it felt so cool. Him pulling the peach fuzz on my arms…because it made him laugh?!?! His snort every time he laughed.
His pile of never worn Levi’s (501) because the current pair was perfectly fine. He was so hard to buy for…I usually resorted to a screw driver or a bottle of Skin Bracer. He got along just fine without us spending all our money or his. Any one of the old run down cars in his fields was better than any new car you could buy. And so we usually did not have a car … just his cattle truck. The one that rattled loudly as he drove through the church parking lot to see if we were at church. And the one that usually smelled like ether because all the junk on the passenger side of the floor shifted and set off a can of starting fluid.
He loved his grand babies. No one was better than he was at getting them to smile and laugh. It was watching him with them that made me realize how much he loved me too.
I miss him…I wish I would have known better how to be a Daddy’s Girl … but I know he is aware of me and is watching over my life with boys and life on the farm He is laughing…how my whole world smells like cows and my car floors are piled high with junk…on a daily basis he is giving a snort and a laugh…all the approval this newly established Daddy’s girl needs.
Tomorrow morning I have a date with a not so blank canvas…but a canvas…of sorts.
The boys are camping and I get the farm all to myself. Time to set some siphon tubes (an art form I have yet to master), yes. But also…Time to create…to start this journey. 
As I have thought about this day, I have been reminded of a talk from several years ago.
The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul. No matter our talents, education, backgrounds, or abilities, we each have an inherent wish to create something that did not exist before.
Everyone can create. You don’t need money, position, or influence in order to create something of substance or beauty.
Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment. We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty.
…
You may think you don’t have talents, but that is a false assumption, for we all have talents and gifts, every one of us. The bounds of creativity extend far beyond the limits of a canvas or a sheet of paper and do not require a brush, a pen, or the keys of a piano. Creation means bringing into existence something that did not exist before—colorful gardens, harmonious homes, family memories, flowing laughter.
President Dieter F. Uchtdorf
Here’s to tomorrow…To the power of creation….to all the beauty, past and present, that is our farm!
Wendy Mair Clark 