Siri is Speechless

Bent over the hard, red clay, I contemplated the last few weeks and along with that, my life.

Who would have guessed one year ago, that I’d be covered with red dust, digging holes in rugged ground? Not only that, I’m talking to miniature plants we grew in moist soil blocks.

“Okay little beet, time to grow up. Can’t let strong wind knock you down. It’s a tough world out here. Put your roots down deep.” I’d caress my little beet one more time, then place him gently in his clay box to grow into a mature plant. Then I’d move on to the other 198 seedlings.

Silence is all around me.

It makes me think of Siri.

I haven’t heard from her much. And when I do, she’s kinder. Instead of, “Pauline! You have to unlock your phone to search the web!” spoken in a patronizing manner–she is silent.

When she speaks, it’s more like, “To help you find what you’re looking for, why don’t you unlock your phone, Sweetie?” The country air is affecting her program.

I think she’s shocked by my appearance, and softened by my workload. She’s getting older, just like me. Siri feels sorry for me because she can relate. She understands the up-and-coming programs who have a snappy name like Sam who can do more and have a younger voice.

Like fine wine, Siri is getting better with her updates. But she can’t change the fact that she’s older–some think even passé.

Still, seeing me with hair pulled back, red clay covering my face and feet, dirt caked under my fingernails, Siri’s speechless.

We work side-by-side in the field with only the sound of wind blowing through tall poplars.

No one is calling. Not many texting.

Her directions are even getting more informal. “Watch out for Pickles Curve on Siloam Road, Pauline. Remember how the chicken truck turned over there. What a mess!”

Sometimes her silence bothers me. Sometimes I wonder if anyone remembers me, including her. If in such a big world with so many people anyone cares. Then I listen to the trees and think about their creator and it clears my mind.

NWIF–No Whining in Farming.

Why? Because I’m blessed: spiritually, physically, personally.

Just now a tiny hummingbird flew to the feeder about three feet from me. I heard its insect-like wing pattern and we stared at each other.

I’m making new friends. Good friends that take time who happen to have a southern accent.

I’m able to work. That is a blessing.

My husband and I like each other. In fact, we love each other.

And then there is my church family. The one I worship with a couple of times a week. We’re served up a heaping portion of God’s Word preparing us to share some of that bread with others.


So Siri and I are growing in our relationship. It’s a comfortable silence.

Last Saturday, I traveled to Winston-Salem for the day. It affected Siri. Her voice got back some of that edge and her words were abrupt.

I think it was the traffic.

I don’t think Siri is passé, I think she’s ready for silence.

Just like me.


2 Comments on "Siri is Speechless"

  1. Teresa says:

    Very nice thoughtful writing. Hope you are adjusting to farm life and learning to embrace true peace. :)

  2. Sue Dunigan says:

    I will always remember you my dear friend! And I cannot wait to visit you on your new adventure!

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