Dear Mystery Bruise on My Knee,
First of all, I have no idea why you're here. I didn't invite you, and I sure as Shinola don't remember doing anything to deserve you. Okay, so maybe all the crashing around I've been doing on the farm lately may have encouraged you to show up, but it's time for you to go away. You've taken up residence on my knee for the past TWO WEEKS, not getting any worse, not getting any better ... just hanging out, and it's maddening, honestly. You can take your weird greens, your signature bluish-black, and your vericose purples, pack 'em up and head 'em out. I would like to wear a skirt to work at least once this week. Thank you.
Signed,
Me.
A journal of life on a third- and potentially fourth-generation family farm, from the perspective of the 'potential fourth' generation. (abridged, of course, for time and interest's sake)
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