“A garden is best tended by someone who cares.”
Sitting on our farm stoop this fall evening as the corn dries, almost ready to be picked, my mind wanders to my grandfather, who was plucked away from me almost three years to the day. I am grateful for his lessons, for his joy, his laughter, his devotion. “There is something new to learn every day,” he would say. I learned from him that to reap the best harvest, one must first sow the right seeds, tend the fields, and then, only after a full season of work, can the farmer enjoy the bounty of his efforts. My grandfather was a farmer, and saw the world in a different way than most do today. On an early spring morning, he would walk from his house, past the large red barn, stand at the barren field’s edge and kick the dirt, having both an almanac and a keen sense for when the soil was supple enough to seed. When he looked at the land, he saw the future, and knew both in mind and in faith that he would be rewarded for his patience. He lived a full life into a ripe old age, and was surrounded by his loved ones. More importantly, his kind actions took root in me. Now, I aim to be a farmer, maybe not on the field, but in the way I see the world. Ideas need tending, both with attention and trimming, and our bodies must be balanced, kept fit to bring those ideas into fruition. I am an explorer looking for the right seeds to plant, and with a hearty laugh and a gentle smile, hope to become a great farmer one day. Today, with so few who carry on the tradition of farming, it may seem to daunting a task to enter the filed, but each of us has at least a small plot or a windowsill in which we can become at the very least, a gardener. What kind of gardener will you be?