Denis Lehane: Farmers, beware of the celebrity Valentine's day card

Valentine's Day is only one day, (admittedly a very busy one) in the life of a busy farmer. We can't lose the run of ourselves, writes Farming columnist Denis Lehane.

Denis' love letters

Valentine's day is no joke, especially if you are a farmer.

And if you are a progressive farmer like me, 'tis all the worse.

The way I see it, it's like a herd test rolled together with a day of sheep shearing combined with a day's threshing.

Work? Pressure? Non-farmers have no idea. It's a day with all hands on deck.

I usually tip off the postman on the days leading up to Valentine's, to back his van up the yard and tip out my load of cards wherever he damn well likes.

"Just keep the loads as close together as possible," is my only request.

For the last thing I need is to be hindered in some way from performing all my farming duties by a humongous heap of love hungry cards from females spread the world over.

In spite of it being Valetine's Day, the farming has to continue.

Cattle still need to be fed; things still need to be mended; work still needs done around the place.

This industrial method of card control employed by me on the farm is the only way I can deal with the deluge. And I'm sure I'm not alone in the Irish farming community facing such a yearly challenge.

Farmers are popular, and there's no point in denying the fact.

Anyhow after the last load of perfume-soaked, lipstick-smothered cards arrive, using my trusted cock-lifter I will back up the lot into a mighty height.

I try as best I can to put manners on the mountain of cards, but it's no joke.

The tractor, with wheels spinning, will have a substantial amount of black smoke blown before the job is complete. It's worse than backing up wet silage.

Then with the tractor work out of the way, the real slog begins.

With the help of Farm Relief (I usually employ two nimble-fingered operators), we will sift through the pile.

We will put local and Irish Valentine's Day cards in one heap and continental cards carrying foreign postage marks in another.

Cards containing proposals of marriage or offers of elopement are given short swift. They are flung into a nearby fire.

I'm a happily married man, after all, and not one given to entertaining such frivolities.

Cards with names and addresses supplied are put to one side so that a universal reply can be sent to all.

Valentine's Day cards from pop sensations or celebrities from Beverly Hills and such places are common enough these days as the reach of this farming paper, through the power of the internet, is now global.

I was once sent a card and a bunch of red roses from this actress, this screen goddess, of some considerable fame who wondered if I might run away with her, for she was sick of all the awards and accolades.

"Well, I'm not sick of being a farmer Cate," was my curt response back then, and it would still be my response today.

And regardless of whether it's a passion-fuelled Valentine's Day card from the beautiful Kate Winslet or the delectable Sandra Bullock, our response as farmers needs to be same: "Thanks, but no thanks."

We need to be alert to such danger. Do not go gentle into that good night.

The cards might be nice to get and nice to look at. But we are farmers, guardians of the ground, custodians of our cattle, and we can't be swayed. We won't be swayed.

Valentine's Day is only one day, (admittedly a very busy one) in the life of a busy farmer. We can't lose the run of ourselves.

Most farmers, myself included, have little time for love beyond the unbridled lifetime of passion we have for the land.