“You’re Just Gonna Marry A Farmer Someday”

MyFarmer and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary May 3rd , so naturally I’ve been thinking back to our absolutely amazing wedding day. We had our wedding and and reception at a farm (wow, shocker!) owned by wonderful family friends of ours.  Outside wedding by the pond with cows and grain bins in the background, and reception in their newly renovated barn. Two guys from The Big Bang piano bar out of Nashville played at our reception and we had a BLAST. It was such a fun and special day. I loved my wedding. (Err, I mean OUR wedding.)

I will now proceed to bombard you with wedding pictures.  I’m not sorry.

All photos by the uber-talented Maggie Shupe Photography

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Our friends are beautiful people, both inside and out.
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There was a lot of pain and whining that went into this shot. So worth it.
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Of course grain bins were the back drop for our wedding, why wouldn’t they be?
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Seriously the inside of the barn is GORGEOUS. Special thanks to my friend Dana for flying in early and helping me decorate. By that I mean, thanks for going to Hobby Lobby with me 2 days before my wedding so we could have decorations.
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We needed tons of direction. Ha!
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It’s funny to me how some guys truly commit to the moment, and others are like, “I don’t know what to do with my hands right now.”
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Even little Riley’s expression was perfect!
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This year I will have the pleasure of running my hands under both of these girls’ skirts when they get married this summer! I’m so excited!! (For their weddings, not to actually run my hands up their skirts. That would be kinda weird.)
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“Wow, he’s really your dad? You look nothing like him!” Said no one ever.
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Because being a lady is hard sometimes.
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Does your eye go strait back to the group of cows over my shoulder? Good, me too. Lets be friends.

In thinking about my wedding, I can’t help but laugh about a conversation that I had at my high school senior class dinner. I had just been awarded the “most redneck” title for the senior class elections, (an award that seemed much cooler then…) and I was chatting with the group, when out of the blue, one of the more popular, cheerleader types looked strait at me and in a matter-of-fact tone said, “Alane, you’re just gonna marry a farmer someday.” “Uhhh, what?” I’m really not sure what her point was with that comment. Was it meant to be condescending, maybe hurtful?  She probably meant nothing by it at all.  But let me tell you. I.  WAS.  PISSED. Did she really think the best I would ever do with my life was marry a FARMER? A fat, lazy, overall wearing FARMER? An uneducated, poor, pig feeding FARMER? Did she honestly believe the best husband I could ever hope to get was the guy on the road sign in the straw hat and a piece of hay sticking out of his mouth? Oh hell-to-the-no she didn’t.

This sounds like a ridiculous response for someone headed to college for an agriculture degree, but that’s where my head was, just like the majority of Americans that are removed from the farm. I had grown up with horses and was active in my high school FFA, but I still did not have the connection.

Then MyFarmer walked into my life. A handsome, outgoing, college educated, farmer. After moving back to his farm and getting married I made a discovery. There is no such thing as “just a farmer.” Every farmer is a mix of agriculturalist, meteorologist, agronomist, optimist, economist, veterinarian, and mechanic, (among a thousand other things) all while utilizing technology that makes my head hurt. And you want to talk about work ethic? Can you imagine being at your job from sunup to sundown 7 days a week? Probably not.

It’s about time we see farmers for what they are. Intelligent, hard working, educated, and sometimes overall wearing, stewards of the land that feed the world with fewer and fewer resources every year. Roughly 30% of farmers in the US have some form of college education. For a comparison, the national average in 2009 for Americans ages 25-34 to have completed an associates degree is 8.1%, and completed bachelors degree is 22%. When you take into consideration that average age of an American farmer (as of 2007) is 57 years old, that’s a pretty incredible number. I think I’m going to start a petition for the farmer road sign to be changed.

How a bleach blonde cheerleader from West M High School ever knew what my life had in store for me, I’ll never know. But I did “just marry a farmer.” And you know what? I thank my lucky stars every singe day that I did.





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