The Scarlet Letter U

The best piece of literary fiction ever written is the Scarlet Letter.  (My sincere apologies to the fans of Rowling, Grisham, Clancy or any of the other literary geniuses of the High Post-Post-Modern era.) Though, I was assigned this reading in high school, Clifford's redaction of the work did not convey all the that I believe Mr. Hawthorne wished to impart to my youthful soul.  As an adult who has ruminated over the book at leisure and by choice, now, I believe that one of the most compelling lessons to be gleaned from the life of Hester Prynne is that of the wonderful, transforming power of shame.  For all of the strange and hell-born doctrines which the Puritans of New England embraced, this perhaps was the one treasure that should have been held to tightly by future generations.

I, for one, am hoping that the same mysterious force that was able to change a proud, pioneering adulteress into a goodly, puritan saint might also work its magic on me here and now as I seek to embark on my rustic adventure.  My scarlet letter, though must be the letter "U" --- as in UNFINISHED.  If ever you have visited  my home, you have probably seen my many, many "Pearls" - tangible evidence of such a vile soul, gorged on a feast of sloth.

There is the picket fence that would have looked so lovely, all white washed, surrounding our bountiful garden...

Or the milking stanchion that was sure to make the purchase of dairy goods a thing of the past...

Or the electric fence that would create a deer-friendly zone for venison harvesting...

Or the barbed wire fence that was to replace the aforementioned electric fence...

Or the gate that would have made access to the pasture an easy affair...

Or, the most picturesque of all, the farmyard chicken coop, that would have jettisoned us on our way to true self-sufficiency thus changing the course of all mankind.

Yes, these are my bastard children, born of the passionate embrace of a weekend off, and left now to fend for themselves against the elements, while my own Hester has patiently (for the most part) endured the shame  associated with my sin.   No more, I now stand, shame-faced on the virtual platform for all the world to see (at least all 5 that will have read this far) the derelict father of these poor Pearls.  No more, no more, I will place the scarlet letter about my neck and with a firm purpose of amendment do my penance.  I must, if I am to ever be a man who can earn his bread with the sweat of his brow in the thorns and thistles of this cursed ground.  With God's good grace, this blog will bear witness to the sincerity of my resolve.