Everyone has an opinion, ya know? Recently, our third son Atticus (pictured above), critiqued our Instagram content. “It’s getting stale,” he said in that blithe manner typical of an apartment dweller with three houseplants. “No interesting stories,” he said, “and you posted four photos of Heather in a row.”
I shared Atticus’s feedback with the farm’s Chief Chairman Executive Managing Director Officer Specialist of the Social Media Arts and Communications, Walter. He raised an eyebrow. Then he told Heather who raised an eyebrow. Grandma Chicken, listening through the screen door, turned her feathery backside and waddled towards the coop, where we assume forty-four chickens heard the news and raised their eyebrows.
Because if Laurentide’s Instagram is boring, it is not for lack of material. The moon at night. The early morning mist. Velveteen snow on copper leaves. And the animals! The animals do stupid shit all the time and it’s hilarious. The plants do stupid shit all the time and it’s hilarious. Heck, we do stupid shit all the time and it’s painfully hilarious.
But posting on Instagram every day is another farm chore. After the chickens are tucked in and the dishes are done, bed is telegraphing its siren song. But one of us, usually Walter, plops into a chair on the stovepipe porch and uploads a photo with a caption.
So why bother with this self-imposed task? Because doing the ‘Sham, as we like to call it, is an exercise in reflecting on our day and picking out something noteworthy. Something good or bad or funny. With farming, where every day is Tuesday, it’s so easy to get swallowed. Instagram is, believe it or not, the equivalent of sending up a creative prayer.
And I didn’t realize that until I typed it.
Because telling stories is how we make sense of things.
And now we are at the end of today’s story, except for one small note. Atticus is a good man and did not criticize us out of mean spiritedness. He cares greatly about our effort and agreed to help out by taking over Instagram the week that he spent here. By Day Three, he hated it. We gloated, indeed we did. But then we lent him a hand. And that is the secret of our Instagram. We are a family working together to find the funny or the beautiful or the sad and describe it in a way that pays honor to this labor of love.
