CHANGE

Neat hot green Mississippi fields
Planted and plowed by the spirits of my heart
Backs bent to their labor
No longer are they flesh and form
Yet they are tangible to me
They brought the green sea to life

Remanded here as part of the peculiar institution
In this, the land of the almost free
Year upon year their generations could not wander
They had lost the meaning of that word
Remembrance of their language meant death
Some how those sweat soaked bodies knew they must survive

The green sea sprouts from a thick fluid vascular bed of memories
A field wet with the technology of today as it silently irrigates
The bones of the ancestors as they sink deeper into the depth of the green sea
They lay in a scarred battlefield with no markers or flags of remembrance
Nothing to shout their names no pictures of their faces
Here in this Mississippi field they rest
Chosen to be there as I am chosen to be here

The green sea parts to expose them for an instant
They need to see what profound change their lives inspired
They can walk unafraid and have their say in the front room of the big house
Children….we have realized our dream
We speak and now they listen
Like lions we roar
We read
We write
We laugh loudly and love without fear

They marked us down as one third of a human being
Branded and numbered
Look at us now sweet spirits
Rise up and look at your children
It is our voice chosen to lead the realignment of mankind
Open your eyes once again with pride and fulfillment at your strength
From the lands of our ancestors we have arrived to part the green sea
Look at who we are now
We have changed everything

Farm Report

It has been a slow week on the farm. Workers have been lazy lima beans all week!
Even though we were not shopping and cooking and having tons of company we have all enjoyed our holidays immensely. We are comfortable with the way things are going and are looking forward to our new President being inaugurated on January 20th, so we hope that you will enjoy our interpretation of why the workers on the foot farm and the rest of world is so excited about the the 44th resident of the White House!

FARM REPORT

We here on the foot farm have been able to expand operations to new and ever greater levels. One of our first new visitors flew in from LA just to see us. She was quite special and carried a cell phone covered in clear Swavorski Crystals with her initials in pink. So very LA don’t you think? Our discussions this week were very much about cultural differences in families. Intermarriage between distinctly different cultures is becoming more popular. In the past we have been aware of love and marriage in this country between African-Americans and Whites, but let us consider Americans and Colombians, Muslims and Christians, Indians and Pakistanis. The differences are immense and become relevant when considering raising children and dealing with family members. Something as simple as asking “what’s for dinner?”, can become a source of tension.
Holidays and birthdays may be celebrated in different ways. Love becomes complex when it crosses some sort of line. In our opinion love is something we need to have in order to breath. No matter what the difficulties may be in realizing that love. To be held, to be kissed, and to be touched by another person who makes one feel complete; that is necessary. One of our most loyal visitors has always said…. it’s your time on earth…
So not matter where you find love, embrace it. Happy Holidays…..our color is Rudolph’s Red Nose.

FARM REPORT

This intriguing tale was told by a visitor from Vibe Magazine; a commentary on the music industry. Remember when every city had at least one legendary record store? In New York City, Colony and Tower Records were places artists stopped and fans hung out. Music was touchable and collectable. Even CD’s didn’t really put a damper on the fact that we collected our favorite music. Now the industry is almost unrecognizable; every thing is downloadable.
Musical genres have a muddy line through them. Distinctions between Jazz, R&B,Pop and Hip hop have faded in the downpour of economics. Can magazines like Vibe survive to cover Hip Hop when the NY times is doing it mainstream? As our visitor from Vibe magazine said…Thank God for Lil Wayne or we would have really gone under…
Artists are utilizing the internet to exist in venues where they have freedom to write, post, and perform the art of their lives. They welcome thier fans downloading thier creations.
Gangster rappers are now called moguls. They have clothing lines, labels of high end brandy, and reality shows on how to be good parents. We farmworkers are certainly not haters, it’s the American dream come true.
We wait patiently for the newness of artists still developing a craft through experience and practice. Those who are “in the shed” as we write this, not standing in line for a national talent contest, but learning to read music, play music, and write actual words; practicing and living thier art.
The color …..I Said Red

Rudi

This was written for a dear and close friend...

You were my half in life
Kept my most secret secrets
Not ever questioning or judging
If decisions were wrong you never told me
You went along happily with each one

Moving from city to town
Smiling at each new curve in the road
Others spoke harshly about our nomadic existence
You just asked for more chicken

People drifted in and out of my life
As my friend you were always there
Miles I could drive and never a complaint
You just enjoyed the peace of my company

From the time that you were young and spry
From the time you could run like the wind
You would look back at me with eyes that sparkled
Listening for me to call your name

My half in life was you my friend
Sleeping with me through every nightmare
Comforting me when it was done

Transitory is the order of this existence
Our own unique time here
Bridges to cross and miles to tread
To have shared it with you was my luck
To have known you was my honor
My half in life, my friend, there will never be another

FARM REPORT

Workers were amazed at the range of tales collected this week. Many were told, but few were chosen to make the report.

The "beautiful rebellious banker". Talked down from the ledge by friends after she threatened to tell her bosses exactly what she thought of them. Not the best idea given the wretched economy; she decided on a afternoon at the foot farm instead. A great choice. We scrubbed, rubbed and wrapped with warm towels. Wearing Caviar Dreams or A Big F U to your boss on her fingers and toes she told them sweetly what she actually thought of them and still kept her job.

The "south carolina peaches". These delicate beauties were agonizing over the need to move operations to New York. Shocked at the fact that nine thousand dollars a month would only get them a pied a terre the size of their current closet and no room for the three furry children. Sadly they realized they will have to buy an all black wardrobe and put their lovely pink sundresses in storage. We painted them National Velvet.

World renowned artist J.Leone came by to soothe a toe injured when she made the choice to sacrifice it to save a piece of art. Were we impressed...? you betcha! She regaled us with stories of trips to the rain forest and detailed descriptions of her latest art project. We were fascinated by the photography process, invented by the eclectic artist,to capture the beauty of Piazza San Marco in Venice and we all want to touch that paper that she swears is better than sex! Yikes! Oh yes...the color..Linkin Park after Dark.
Our favorite visitor this week was without a doubt the quietly intelligent graphic artist who was playing parlor games for the evening. She will be riding her bike to the inauguration and flashing Russian Sable on her toes.

FARM REPORT

It has been a trying week down on the farm. Workers have been sick, and there was a dry spell of new visitors. It seems that the wretched economy has infected our fields as well. Toes are curling up before our very eyes. Maybe our new first lady will go on national TV and tell everyone that she cannot do without her biweekly visit to the foot farm. This would definitely give us an infusion of new feet to service. We would be happy to name a new color in her honor.
Our workers usually have lunch sent in on the weekend and this turned the discussion to food choices. Pizza has been a favorite of the workers for some time, we have discovered that topping a slice of cheese pizza with salad and wrapping it up is the next best thing to heaven. Speaking of food choices what is up with lunch carts on the street serving heaping helpings of mystery meat for consumption? As you can see we were bored out of our minds this week.

Tropic Wind

This is piece that begs for a vacation in some hot spicy spot. Grab a cold one, relax and remember your best vacation.

Tropic Wind

Without warning
The intruder enters
Blows away a cover of bright parrot feathers
Brushes across a naked breast

Her skin is hot and yearning for a touch
This subtle touch does not disappoint
Wrapping steamy gusts around her thighs
caressing them with idle abandon
It is the way of the wind

Vibrant fish swim through outstretched arms
Swept away by the demanding breeze
Together they float along ribbons of vibrant hues
Meeting like transparent butterflies
On throbbing wings of passion

Immersed in the art of love
Transfixed by the presence of fate
Filled with the taste of a sparkling embrace
Touching that most private possession
A moment claimed forever for the wind

FARM REPORT

All kinds of people stopped by the farm this week. One group of visitors made workers think they had been given a free ticket to a Jerry-Maury show. These tales turned heads all over the farm and will definitely show up somewhere. They are way to exotic for workers to just toss aside. They were gathered up and stored in our warehouse for future use. We had a group of visitors from London again. Must be the dollar versus euro situation that is bringing all the limeys to the farm for the weekend. An eight hour flight, jet lag, and cram everything you can into two days. These visitors were falling asleep as they picked their toe colors. Speaking of colors, it was "Vodka and Caviar" all week long. A travel agent who passed by made workers swoon with the thought of traveling far from the farm to visit warm and wonderful spots on the globe. A party of lawyers came by. Generally an interesting group, these legal eagles were so boring that the workers began painting each others toes. We all agreed on "Hello Gorgeous" then had our tarot cards read.

Farm Report

Hard week down on the farm. The workers are getting testy with each other. Due to the fact that the economy is in the toilet, the harvest was poor this week.
Here is the report:
It was decided that Uma Thurman has the best keep toes. If you want to dispute that check out Kill Bill II. She displays them polished to perfection. Speaking of polish the most popular color this week is without a doubt "wicked". There is not a bottle to be had, we definitely need to get more!
The girls from Modern Bride perked up our week with tales of breast lifts and other mammary subjects. There was a serious debate on nipples the size of half dollars and just how big an areola can get.
Visitors from London gave us the scoop on hair extensions and the methods of torture used in the tower of London. My personal favorite was the bamboo shoots (too gross to tell!)
What are the workers reading this week? "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac was left on the tractor by some anonymous spirit so we are discussing that along with the regular trash. Got to keep up with the celebs!

Now that you have found the Foot Farm here is a little info. We work with only the freshest feet possible to bring you these tales. Our feet are organically grown and lovingly washed prior to harvesting these stories. We bring you tales that have been carefully processed, scrubbed and polished just for you..... only the most interesting tales make the blog. Many are told, but few are chosen. Check us often we provide fresh, quality...sometimes spicey, but never bland, Tales from the Foot Farm

The Seasons

This is romantic love story of love lost and then reclaimed...think Bridges of Madison County....if you like that story this is right up your alley...kick back get that cold one and just ENJOY!

THE SEASONS

Diamond Cab 2346 crossed the Fourteenth street bridge toward the airport. The window was open. Just her luck, a cab with no air conditioning. A steamy soft hot haze blew like damp morning dew. Not cooling, just there, covering her face, wrinkling her suit.
Getting out of town, a four day work weekend. Slipping from a simmering city to the mountains just west of Denver. An intense work schedule, but she arranged additional days just for herself. The hotel featured a spa, so time was reserved after the meetings to indulge herself. Four days of marketing plans, and corporate games followed by a little self appreciation.
The plane touched down in Denver, the shuttle was waiting to take her up the mountain to her hotel.
“Any objection to another passenger?”
the driver asks.
After the long flight she just wants to get to her destination and shakes her head no.
“Thanks I appreciate the share.”
She looks up into a pair of intense green eyes that make her smooth her yellow linen suit and think about the condition of her lipstick after six hours on a plane.
He looks at her. Hair in disarray, her suit reflecting time spent in an airplane seat, and asks if he can start his assignment with a picture of her.
“Oh….! I am a mess! Please, another time.”
He raises the Nikon and clicks off two quick candid shots.
“You look amazing to me”
They fall into easy conversation.
“Thanks for the share and the photos.”
He grabs his bags and is gone quickly. She checks into a business friendly room and settles in for a work weekend.
Charts, trends, and meetings take her mind and time for the next four days. He rises early, searching the hotel grounds for the right pictures to draw tourists. They never pass each other. If they do recall their meeting, the memory has faded behind a schedule of separate missions.
The morning of the fifth day, her private retreat begins. The morning of the fifth day he finds a peaceful grove of red and gold flowers growing easily beside a tickle of a river. That afternoon she enjoys a manicure and pedicure choosing a hypnotic color of red called Hello Gorgeous. That afternoon he looks at the photos from the grove, pulled in again by the vibrant hue of the flowers.
The next morning she decides on a walk, finding the way to the red and gold field. He takes more than two hundred photos but the grove is by far the most beautifully balanced so he opts for one last look.
The sun has grown high, bright and warm in the late morning sky. She sits on a smooth rock, her palms pressing down beside her hips, her chin reaching up to the light of the sun. If she could keep this moment in time forever she would.
The lens of his camera catches her. Everything in perfect symmetry. The colors of skin, sky and earth in smooth harmony. Her head turns slightly to the left and he is looking right into her eyes. It is as if he has found her naked. She crosses her hand over her breast and fingers a slim silver chain with a single drop of turquoise falling from it.
“You seem to always be snapping me at my worst”
He smiles partly with his mouth, mostly with his eyes.
“It’s a beautiful picture, may I show it to you?”
Over dinner he shows her the picture. They spend the evening enjoying each other’s company. They begin to know each other; they begin to feel comfortable together. She studies the photo in the grove, by far her favorite place of the last few days.
There is music; he asks if she will dance with him.
“He is going to touch me, what shall that feel like?” She asks herself
His fingers; long, slender, light around her waist and on her bare arm. She fits to him, and he to her. Caught in each others arms, the music lasts just long enough.
A kiss, natural as if they had kissed many times before. So far to travel to find such a kiss. To her, his lips feel smooth. To him it is entirely right. His hands glide easily over her shoulders meeting hot skin on her back.
Her body doesn’t want to leave this moment. Is it possible to stay there? Her head in his chest, her nose committing his scent to her memory? Together they record the scene forever. Walking back to the hotel, their bodies so near. Their steps match perfectly.
The elevator ride is filled with a silent question. They reach her floor first and the doors slide open. She steps from the car, sliding her hand from the cradle of his arm. They say nothing. The door softly closes between them and she turns to catch the last of those green eyes.
Why didn’t she just ask him to come with her. Why didn’t he ask her the same question. He is leaving in the morning, her flight is not until two. She decides to check out late. Meeting him in the lobby would be awkward to say the least.
Finalizing her charges the luggage is taken for her by the bellman and loaded into the shuttle.
“Miss, there is a package here for you”
Quizzically, she takes the small brown paper bag and rolls the top open. An exquisite turquoise and silver box, inside, softly melting petals of red and gold flowers. She wonders if she will ever see him again. Lifting the box to her nose she prays that she will.
The silver box finds a place on a small bookshelf among art books and a crystal vase. Undisturbed, dusted faithfully once a week. Never opened.
Hot summers will always fade. Turning into crisp autumns and stiff cold winters. There is no bargaining with the seasons. No exchanges, and never does a season reveal itself before its time. An exact perfect serendipitous moment. No one can predict the day the grass turns green, or the instant the first drop of rain falls in a storm.
She has kissed since that kiss and made love since that kiss. All those kisses were insignificant beside a silver box filled with those melted petals that had desiccated into a fragrant memory.
On the maple shelf behind his desk in a small black lacquer frame there was the image of a woman. Relaxed and taking the sun surrounded by a profusion of hot red and yellow flowers. Rarely did he ponder the image anymore. He has taken many photographs since that day. There have been many women with whom he has danced, but the feel of her skin and her smell remain with him
“I shouldn’t have to call you! You are one who chose this place….get up!!!! We have to be starting this seminar in 20 minutes.“
“Oh……I’m sorry this bed is so comfortable!”
“You and your hotel beds. You travel way too much, you need to settle yourself!”
“I know, I know… Ok, I’ll be down on time, thanks for the wake up.”
Rolling over in the sumptuous bed she reflects on her first visit to this hotel and a silver turquoise box, moved many times over the years. She willed herself out of bed and into a hot shower. Minutes later she was taking the elevator down to the lobby.
It was as elegant and refined as she had remembered it.
She walked quickly to the desk to find her meeting room.
“Take that last doorway. You will pass the double doors leading to the spa, then take a left. The meeting rooms are all on that hallway.”
Smoothing the lines of her yellow linen suit she walked to the doorway and the short distance to the doors leading to the spa. The hall was painted a cooling mint green with ivory crown molding that trimed the ceiling. Columns on either side of the spa door held tall red ginger blossoms in white marble urns. A gold frame hung on the wall directly across from the door.
Her head turned to take in the contents of the frame. It was a photo of a woman, her back to the camera her face tilted up to the sun surrounded by gold and red flowers. Alone, captured in a moment; still yet vibrant. Relaxed, her hands, palms down on a smooth rock upon which she sat.
“Sir, it’s so good to see you. You never miss a spring. We have your favorite room. Will you be needing anything?”
“No thanks William, it’s good to see you again.”
“Thank you sir. They’ve hung your photo by the spa as you requested do you want to see it?”
“Sure William.”
“That way sir“ He points. “Right through that doorway. You see where that lady in the yellow is standing? Right there.”