#farm worker

[c86]

Paul Arnold, son of FSA client. Herding turkeys Chaffee County, Colorado, October 1939

Photography by Arthur Rothstein, Farm Security Administration

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Thomas Austen Brown (Scottish, 1859-1924) The New Lair, 1892 Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Sentenced To Work On Farm,” Border Cities Star. February 6, 1933. Page 3. ---- Guilty Husband Must Hand Money Over To His Wife ---- FREDERICK FITZPATRICK, found guilty on a charge of assaulting his wife, was "farmed out" on the orders of Magistrate Brodie in Windsor Police Court this morning, Fitzpatrick is to labor on the John Plant farm, Sandwich South, for the next three months and his earnings are to be turned over for the maintenance of his wife and children. 

In addition to the assault count, the accused was also charged with corrupting his home but M. R. Winters, inspector for the Children's Aid Society, consented to withdrawal. Fitzpatrick was tried a week ago on the assault charge, his defence being that he had been obliged to oppose his wife when she attacked him with a hammer and curling irons. 

Magistrate Brodie ruled that he might come to Windsor to see his children, but only when accompanied by Mr. Plant. Otherwise, suspended sentence was given on condition that he stay away from the city for the three month period.

[actaecon]

[47chipsinspace]

"I'm out in the berries today, I can't, I'm sorry!"

06/07/24

Bent Fork Strawberries 🤤

[spidermartini]

Much love to our Haitian brothers and sisters, who have to continue to endure this gross display of racism, ignorance, intolerance and hatred.

Sending random love and a show of support, so that you can see that not everyone is a stupid asshole.

[henk-heijmans]

A female farm worker pulling flax on a farm in Yeovil, Somerset, England, ca. 1915 - by Nicholls Horace (1867 - 1941), English

[d469son-daddyshelper2]

[makingdonalddrumpfagain]

🇭🇹

[kuhjunge9]

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Plucky Youth Reaches Goal, Had Long Trip," Kitchener Record. May 17, 1934. Page 14. --- STRATFORD, May 17. - Although believed now to be out of danger following an operation last week which necessitated the amputation of her left leg above the knee, was a happy Stratford mother who from her bed in the General Hospital greeted her 21-year-old son who came all the way from a farm in Alberta to be by her side. She is Mrs. George Rowe, Nelson street.

Some days before it was found necessary to amputate Mrs. Rowe leg word was sent to Ernest Rowe, 21, in Alberta where he has been working on a farm, as to the seriousness of her condition.

He left his work immediately and started east by riding freight trains. He made the trip in 10 days because he was almost penniless. He intended to make it in time for the operation but arrived shortly after.

Ernest intends to leave for the west in the near future to see if he can get more work, because he thinks it better to be on the road looking for work or working in the west rather than staying at home being a burden on someone else.

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

By Sharon Black

In the U.S., the victims of this crisis are mainly workers toiling in the fields or construction sites or broiling in uncooled warehouses and other sweatshops. The poorest are at risk, including the unhoused, especially those cramped in urban areas. The most impacted are Black, Brown, Indigenous, and poor people.

[qui-gg]

Silly payjay things… and why is ep kissing pickle calm down you two

[bobdylan-n-jonimitchell]

Cesar Chavez & Joan Baez at a United Farm Workers benefit, Santa Monica, CA, December 16, 1966 © Emmon Clarke.

[wolfdeutschland]

👷🏻‍♂️

www.instagram.com/wolfdeutschland

[trenchcoatimpala]

Cobblestone Love

Hello, everyone! I have just dropped my new fic Cobblestone Love on ao3! Updates will be every Tuesday!

Castiel Novak was raised with only one purpose: to be King. With an arranged marriage between himself and Princess Megan Masters of a neighboring kingdom approaching, he finds himself wanting to spend a night in town, enjoying his freedom before his royal duties catch up to him. Dean Winchester works his farm by day and Ellen's tavern by night trying to make ends meet so he can put his brother, Sam, through medical school. When a mysterious stranger with dark hair and blue eyes, claiming to be a knight for the King, sits down at the bar, Dean's life is forever altered.

You can read a teaser below:

A man plopped down beside Castiel with a nasty leer on his face. “So you’re rich, pretty boy?”

Castiel met the man's gaze, he saw nothing but dishonesty there. “My wealth is of no concern to you.” 

“It is when you come parading in here with gold coins fit for the King. I reckon you could spare a few more coins for some poor folk like me.” 

Castiel let his expression harden. “And I reckon you think you can take it from me if I don’t give it willingly.” 

The man grinned at him, revealing a few missing teeth. “You reckon right.” 

A moment later a pair of hands was on the lapels of his shirt and he was being pulled to his feet. 

“You stop that this instant!” the barkeep woman shouted. “Put him down!” 

“If he can spare you some change then he’s got to have more where that came from. I’m just going to shake him down, see how much more coin he’s got.” Castiel found that amusing, especially since the man threatening him was a great deal shorter than Castiel himself. 

“That would be a horrible mistake on your part,” Castiel said. 

Castiel had been trained to fight by highly respected knights, he could hold his own in a battle and he was very good with a sword. It was a pity he didn’t bring his sword with him, but he’d opted not to as it would have been a dead give away that he was from royal descent. He would have to win the fight by his own fists instead. 

As he was gearing up to get free of the man's grip and send him to the ground, the man was suddenly being ripped away from him. A whiskey rough voice spoke in anger and mockery as Castiel tried to get his wits about him again. 

“You really don’t want to do that, Marv. How many times do I have to kick you out of this bar!” 

Castiel watched as Marv was shoved roughly through the door by a tall man with light brown hair and an impressive set of bow legs. When he turned around again, Castiel felt his breath steal itself away from him. The man was gorgeous, there was no other word for it. His face was dotted with a fair few freckles and his jawline was sharp and decorated with the thinnest layer of scruff. He was dressed in high riding boots with a tan tunic that was tucked into his brown leather pants. He wore a matching leather vest over his tunic and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. This man clearly worked with his hands a lot and by the muscles in his arms and back he looked like he was good at it. 

“I’m so sorry about him,” the man said, and there was that perfect voice again. 

“It’s no trouble,” Castiel found himself replying, it was a wonder he’d been able to recover his voice. 

The man extended his hand. “I’m Dean.”

Castiel took it. Calluses brushed against his skin as his palm slid into Dean’s. It was a warm handshake, he found himself rather enjoying the touch. “I’m-” he paused, he shouldn’t say his name. The purpose of his trip outside of castle walls was to go unrecognized and mingle with the common folk to experience their way of living, so that once he took the throne he’d know how best to help them. No, it was best he didn’t reveal who he was, besides, he was never fond of how once anybody learned his identity they felt the need to drop to their knees and genuflect in the name of the crown. It was rather unsettling and it made Castiel uncomfortable to be the receiver of such respect. “James,” he decided to say. It was his middle name and a common enough name to get him through this moment. “But everyone calls me Jimmy.” 

“Well, Jimmy,” Dean said with a smile, “I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of your evening. If Ellen or I can get you anything just say the word.” 

Ellen, Castiel took it, was the woman behind the bar. “Thank you very much, Dean.” 

Dean’s cheeks pinked slightly in the lantern light. “Don’t mention it.”

Up close, Castiel could see that Dean’s eyes were the most emerald of green, and he could almost picture himself getting lost in those eyes and never having to worry about leading a kingdom or marrying a girl he was not in love with, nor could he ever be. Alas, his daydreams were for naught, and after tonight he was to return to the castle and take his rightful place as King. 

He sipped slowly at his mead and let himself slip away into the hum of people around him. He wasn’t eavesdropping, per se, but he couldn’t help but hear what people were saying. A young family to his left, with a weary looking mother and an exasperated father, tended to two young children, a boy and a girl. The children were pretending to fight with sticks they must have picked up from the ground outside. Their parents were trying to stop them from running about, but the children bore no mind. 

Head on over to ao3 for the rest :)

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