We are lucky in the hard work,  quality, and honesty of the people we find to help us on the farm work that needs to be done.

They proudly refer to themselves as farm kids and are not like other kids.

The young woman who grew up on farms proudly calls themselves farm girls, a badge of honor up here. This drives some feminists crazy.

They are also great workers.

Ethan is a neighbor; he grew up on a dairy farm, so he knows how to work and loves to work.

He is definitely one of the people I like and respect, and he is happy to have a portrait taken of him.

He said he was flattered and honored.

Ethan is a wood splitter, among other things; he is considering moving to Utah because the snowboarding might be better there. I really hope he hangs around.  He is tall and lean and made of iron.

He is not part of the Tik-Tok generation; he’d rather be out in the woods or working than texting, playing games, and making videos. This summer, he’ll be working with Mike Conklin, helping him do landscaping and mowing. We’ll see him often. I can already think of a dozen jobs he might want to do. Even Maria can’t get to all of them.

He always wears ear protectors around loud machines.

Nothing seems to faze him – big, heavy logs of fallen wood, bugs, animals, or hard and relentless wood.

He tosses the heavy logs – cut from limbs fallen in the winter – around like candy; he is safe (he respects powerful machines and takes safety seriously) and confident with heavy machinery.

He works steadily with a smile and brings jugs of water so he won’t have to go into the farmhouse and ask for a drink.

Most big limbs fall here in winter storms; we have to wait until Spring to pick them up; too much ice and snow in the winter. Nothing is wasted. When they can be used for firewood, they are cut up into woodstove sizes and stacked.

The dogs love Ethan on sight, and the animals seem to know him and feel safe around him. When the machines start up, he leaves. Farm kids are consistently courteous, they insist on taking their shoes off before they come into the house, no matter what anybody says—a legacy from growing up around manure.

Everyone who grows up on a farm learns how to work.

Ethan rolls or drags the heavy chunks of wood (these were from the apple tree) and holds them one at a time under the splitter. When they are in position, he pulls a lever, and a blade comes down and splits the wood into small pieces. Ethan makes sure the wood is the right size for our stoves. He thinks we might get a cord or two of wood from these logs. This will take him most of the day.

There was wood to split alongside the bar (this took him 15 minutes. And there are fallen limbs out in the pasture. He’ll take a buzz saw down there to chop them up. They’ll be good for kindling woodstoves or bonfires. Maria wants to move all the wood herself; this is her idea of recreation and relaxation.

I will be on hand to take stunning photographs.

I will make sure we have Ethan’s phone number before he leaves. There are a lot of smaller jobs on a farm that we can’t do. I don’t think there is anything here that this kid can’t do, or wouldn’t be happy to do.

Ethan has a great disposition; he is always smiling. I am proud to take his photo, my honor. He is on my list of people I like and respect.