I grew up partly on a farm. I didn’t see the kind of cows I just painted but to a little kid the cows in the barn were enormous. My parents didn’t own the farm. The family farm was owned by my dad’s older brothers. His family owned two farms; at one point dad worked for them too.
Dad was a hired man. Life as the hired man included a salary, housing and a certain percentage of beef. It was a simple but difficult life. Dad worked hard. It wasn’t the work that did him in but the chemicals he handled. Dad had to leave the farm; his health would no longer let him do what he loved.
Years later while on family road trips my dad would always point out how well the crops looked to be doing. He would comment on how big a particular farmers herd was or how successful a farmer was based on the number of silos.
I always say there is no such thing as a lazy farmer. If you see a lazy farmer he or she won’t be a farmer for long.
Varla's Blue Sheep Art 