I was thinking about context and perspective and thinking that we are all searching for both in our life. Then I decided we weren't really searching for them, it's more like we're surprised when we discover them, one or both.
What set me off on this thought was that I was hoeing and had just kicked up a renegade goat's head sticker plant.
When I was little, around three or so, we used to go to the butcher and get the gut wagon, which is exactly what you would think it is. My dad and uncle used to heat the remains in a huge trough and feed them to the pigs. In this offal there was intestines, blood and heads. Some were goat heads. One of my fondest childhood memories is when my little step-sister and I would sit on the fender of the wagon and dare each other to look in, hands clenched, head against the side of the trailer, ducked down, saying "No, you do it!", "I'm not gonna do it, you do it!". Ah, the tender years of youth.
One day, my grandmother made the comment that the field was so full of trash the tractor plow had goat heads dragging from it.
I can't tell you how many years it took me to realize what kind of goat heads she was talking about, but, boy, did the light shine bright over my head then.
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