Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 4 Comments

Write About the Most Fascinating Job You’ve Ever Had

~the following is part of “Prompted Prose,” a series of posts from the prompts I’m working with during my Spring 2016 online writing course

Wanting to learn how to spin wool, I found a sheep farm in Vermont, and began an apprenticeship with Lois and Babs. Lois owned the farm, offering me a modest, cozy shepherd’s room. Babs was the farm manager, caring for about a hundred ewes, and a select five rams, kept for their docile nature. No aggressive males were allowed on this farm, owned and run, by lesbians.

Lois had been married over twenty years, but she recounted an unhealthy relationship, which now had her “done with men forever.” Babs was kind, and down-to earth, with sun-browned wrinkles by her eyes, that winked when she whispered “the best kept secret is life after 50.”

My first day on the farm involved learning the protocols of moving in and out of the barn, and feeding the sheep. After the work was done, I left to go on a hike, returning before sunset to feed again.

When I opened the barn door, one lone sheep lay on her side, heaving in the aisle of the stalls. I ran for assistance, then returned to the sheep, which was gasping for breath as I held its head in my lap. I felt the weight of a 300-pound animal, heavy in my hands, then suddenly releasing to stillness in my arms.

Lois was convinced it was my negligence that had allowed the sheep to escape its pen, overgrazing itself to death. I was certain I had secured everything appropriately, but her doubt in me had me questioning myself. As a natural consequence, to what she was sure was my careless oversight, she insisted I assist with an immediate autopsy.

We loaded the sheep’s body into a wheelbarrow, and made our way outside. It was dark by now, and I was to hold the flashlight while Lois cut into the soft pink of the sheep’s belly with a carving knife. Within was a warm, red pool, housing flesh and organs. Lois’s hand gripped a mass of tissue and pulled forth the lifeless, wet weight of a lamb. In the beam of my flashlight, she reached inside again, bringing forth a second limp body. The sheep had been pregnant with two babies, both of which had died inside, never delivered.

In the sadness of the loss, I was suddenly vindicated. It felt good to be absolved, but I couldn’t forget the feeling of bitter anger Lois had shown in her quick assumptions.

We both tried to shake it off, as she quipped, “Well, welcome to the farm!”

courtesy of Sean Hurley
courtesy of Sean Hurley
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 2 Comments

Post Script to Working Title

PSAt 2:39am I wake thinking about my most recent musings on the dreamy life of being a housewife (see Working Title).

I wonder if I’ve simply become shallow. Fallen prey to a Western perspective of infinite resources and entitled abundance which has completely narrowed my view to a series of “I wants.” I fear I may have lost touch with the essence of sheer existence on this planet. Forgetting that I am but a mere mortal clinging to the surface of the earth, lucky to be breathing and having any form of sustenance to support my little life.

So I dig deeper.

What I find beneath the collection of “I wish I had…” (more time at home, more space in the day, less distraction) is an arrow pointing toward, what I think, may be one, fundamental human need. A requirement that arises after the basics – food, water, shelter – have been met. And that is to live a life that is in alignment with what one values. A need to live true. True to our hearts.

Different strokes for different folks, and certain values may vary from person to person. But what I suspect, as I look around at my fellow humans, is that many of us are living a life that is not quite in line with whatever it is that we hold most dear. That through circumstance and our present economic structure, many are forcing themselves to adapt to a life that feels foreign to their basic nature.

I realize that for an unemployed person, hopeful for any opportunity for work, my trite piece on the desire to be a housewife may sound luxurious. But on further introspection, what I see behind my words is a longing to live my life the way that feels most natural, most in line with everything I cherish.

For me, those precious things are home, garden, family, art.

It may be easy to say that these yearnings are like wanting to have the cake a la mode and eat it too. That one should just be happy that they have a job, a roof over their head, food on the table. Yes, I am very grateful for these things. There have been times in my life when some of those were not so easily attainable.

But what would the world look like if we set our sights a little higher? If the basics were established for everyone and we could move on to living life that expressed each of our unique talents and gifts? Everyone of us has something great to contribute to the whole. I believe our hearts’ desires are the compass points, there to help us find our way in gifting that.

Maybe my Working Title piece was a bit of a laugh on myself that, perhaps, my greatest desire is to inhabit the simple (sometimes unfairly ranked) existence of a “housewife”. Albeit an artistic one.

I guess this post script is here to chronicle my deeper ponderings on the question of whether I’m caught with the case of the ‘want mores’ or if there’s something deeper tugging at my spirit.

I’ll continue to reflect on these deep thoughts.

But before things get too philosophical, I’ll offer up my next Archive post, The Poo Pile: the superficial musings on the crappy side of being married to a farmer.