Where the red fern grows…
This is Geoff’s face. This is Geoff’s face with a beard. Any questions?*
I knew you would have some questions. Like, how is it possible that a woman who has lived such an outspoken life against beards is married to a man who has grown a beard? Or, I thought the Amish were not allowed to have mustaches? Oh, wait, Geoff’s not Amish. I know, Geoff having a beard is kind of like the founder of Mother’s Against Drunk Driving having a mother who drives drunk. But hang on guys. Don’t be so harsh. Sure beards scratch the faces of sweet wives like a thousand tiny ginsu knives. And sure they hide the precious, beautiful faces of sweet husbands. But Geoff is a farmer. Beards are really big among farmers. And the heroes of the old testament. Plus, everyone, it is winter. It gets cold here. Geoff is digging fence post holes and hauling gravel and tending animals. In that context a beard kind of makes sense. Spring is just around the corner. Surely the warm weather will make beard growth impractical and tedious. Geez, everyone, give Geoff a break.
Now is your opportunity, America, to weigh in on the larger issue of facial hair growth. Does your significant other have a beard or mustache? Does your strawberry-blond husband have chili-pepper red facial hair? How do you feel about it? Or, do you have a rather striking Van Dyke, Foo-man-choo, or full on ZZ-top that you’ve grown faithfully and are willing to tout the advantages of? Lets lay it all out on the table kids. Tell Farmerlady how you feel.
* No Geoffs were harmed during the writing of this post.