"Peaches: The Kind We Raise"

I love rural America, and appreciate the hard work required to operate a farm or orchard.

It is "unnatural", I believe, to be divorced entirely from the rhythms of raising crops, and the cycles of seedtime and harvest. 

 Each year at Thanksgiving, I give thanks that I have memories of seeing the wheat being threshed, the corn stalks shocked in the fields, and the baled hay stacked high in the barn.

Nevertheless, remote areas of the country do sustain some wierd outcasts who are barely connected to the larger culture.  These can be folks be scary.

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I have a postcard, circa 1910, with the picture of a bearded man behind a wheelbarrow in which two insipid-looking girls are seated.  The figures are in the foreground of a peach orchard.

The legend on the postcard reads, "Peaches, the kind we raise".

I think the old man is meant to look friendly and down-to-earth, and the girls are meant to look shy, yet alluring.

But, the picture gives me the creeps.

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