Friday afternoon we decided to leave Memphis and go into Mississippi. Up until this point the scenery was still related to upstate New York, but Mississippi is completely different. There are bog like areas where buttress-rooted trees stand in chalky pale green water, and then there are burnt out flat landscapes with yellowed- reds and muddled greens. It is bizarre how abrupt the change from Tennessee is.

I call the farmer on the way. I don’t know if it was the connection or my phone, but I feel like he heard me clear as a bell and I hear a little southern man under a mattress. He was trying to give me directions. I struggled not to laugh; it was a lot like our encounter in rural Kentucky. After taking a left at the bi-pass I was to pull over at a place where there are tractors and lawnmowers out front. Does it have a name? No, you’ll see it. Well, every place on that road had tractors and lawnmowers, we passes a blonde family of four with three kids under the age of seven all riding on a four-wheeler. So naturally we passed right by it. After another phone call we found him, and we followed him by car back to his place.
As we pull into the yard there are chickens, turkeys, and other foul scurrying out of our way. There’s a small house, a chicken coup, some gardens, a goat pen, and a yurt. Jonathan introduces himself and begins to show us around the property. There are a few beds of fruits and vegetables growing. He shows us where he wants us to hoe. Then he showed us the edge of the property where there’s a little creek running though- it was very nice. We shoot the breeze for a while they have lots of ticks and mosquitoes, and while they don’t have lime disease, people here do occasionally die from west nile virus. He gets around to telling us that he hadn’t told the other WWOOFer we were coming. Apparently she’d been here for 2 months already and has been living in the yurt by her lonesome.

Joanna turns out to be very nice but exceptionally messy. The yurt is a very cool structure; great circular space inside. There is a good amount of clutter and filth everywhere. We get talking to her and she offers to show us the house. There are goats, roosters, and chicks wandering about the porch as obstacles to the front door. Turns out everyone living here is exceptionally messy by my standards. The house is modest and overrun with crap. They have two dogs: a hound dog, which I could expect, but the ridiculous looking giant afghan hound that I’ve only seen on those dog shows on television -that was bizarre. The afgan is old, so it moves like a person in a big funny suit trying to pass as a regular dog.

Rebecca, Jonathan’s mother, is on her way home with Jonathan’s daughter Patty-bell, and her friend Lill, who’s staying the night. We’re outside trying to milk a less than willing goat when Rebecca pulls up. Two little girls, Patty-bell 4 and Lill 10, come running over to greet us. Both have very thick southern accents. They are adorable. We go back to the yurt to clean and organize before we shower and eat. Before long it gets late and dark. We go in the house for a late dinner and the 6 of us gather round a table the size of an end table or coffee table, all with miss-match chairs and stools. (Rebecca who prepares the meals, eats in the kitchen) We’re eating some kind of rice-a-roni with chicken, vegetables, salad, and fried peanuts. There are chicks in the corner of the room chirping. One gets out and is walking around our feet. Jonathan says it’s fine. Lill tells us “Ya’ll watch out for patty-bell, she bites”. All at once sitting there at that dinner I feel like I’m sitting in one someone else’s life and have no idea how it happend. After dinner Rebecca offers to put some rockin’ chairs out on the porch. It’s strange when stereotypes turn out to be pretty accurate.

We slept well through the night in out yurt. Well before dawn we woke to a cacophony of animal sounds. We had fresh eggs and pancakes for breakfast and had our first day of hard work. After hours of hoeing and digging holes our hands are blistered, shoulders sunburnt, and I can not believe we’re in Mississippi.