The Potfarmer Wife
Yesterday’s video about Pot wives sparked a discussion on my Facebook page with one friend dismissing the women in the video as “Potstitutes.”* I have to admit that though I have heard of women like those in the video, the women I know are much more like the ones described by another friend, Autumn Hargrave. I’ve (with her permission) reprinted what she said below.
The Potfarmer wife is a noble creature. We are as strong as the Redwoods we grow in and as cleverly frightful as the owls who occupy their branches. Our lives are full of all things magic and tragic.
For most of us the concerns are all the …same. We focus on raising the kids and taking care of home and hearth. Most of us do this everyday with the knowledge of an undercurrent which runs under our roots every second of every hour. This undercurrent fuels our momentum. Our momentums’ are never less than balls out from sun up to sun down and then some. On any given day we are raising wild ass country kids, growing the goodness, running pounds and managing the hustle and flow that is the So Hum way of life. Not to mention keeping our selves in shape and our men happy.
How many women do you know who can load up kids, dogs and valubles in a blink of eye then breathe a sigh of relief over prepared fear being spent? Then simply begin again? We are not the average soccer moms or something as simple as a grown up potstitute. The Potfarmer wife steps out of the greenhouse into her skirt and heels as easily as city women go from Nike’s to pumps. Our days are just as long. Our dirty feet and toned arms are a small testament about our lives. Our stretch marks and sandal lines are our tiger stripes.
We are the wives of the last American Potfarmers. We are the backbone of all things sane in this chaotic world we have all grown around us.
Potfarmer wives are the girl next door with more body hair and a pot leaf stuck to her sweater. She grows Trainwreck and turnips, clips pot and weedwacks grass, feeds kids and grows a plant to donate to the fire department. She might or might not dig the holes but she walks the waterline, decides when to pollinate for next year’s seeds, feeds the clipping crew and manicures more than her share. She probably finds out when dropping the kids off for school that a buyer is in the neighborhood and rushes home to weigh up that last pound and drop it off at the neighbors. She can sew and can and clip and probably kill a rattlesnake.
These women are outlaws and pioneers. Good people growing an illegal weed.
*Note that the urban dictionary I linked to does not have exactly the same flavor as our local version. Our version of potstitute is a woman who will be with a wealthy grower in order to get her hands on some of the money. I don’t much care for this term. I think it is slung way too freely at any pretty girl hanging with a hill guy or indoor cowboy but, nonetheless, I once met a woman who I thought fit that description.