The experience conjured some long-ago memories of my brothers, my parents, and my grandparents—all farmers—during those early years on fields I haven't visited for decades, among people long gone. As the youngest child, I had few duties on those busy and oftentimes chaotic Fall days and evenings, yet (like always) I observed and I listened and learned the meaning of physical labour, the satisfaction of hard-earned accomplishment, the patient ache of waiting for the weather to change, and how to put my needs second. While we ate in those fields of my youth (my father's one eye on the sunset), it often felt like something I did not know how to name then: appreciation.
Friends, if you can, thank a farmer.
4 comments:
We all owe farmers a great debt.
What always shocks me is that a lot of farmers have another job off the farm, as well as the farm. Without them, there is no food.
A great surprise and occasion evoked some poignant memories.
37paddington: This is lovely, the way the present memory gives you deeper access to those past memories, the simple appreciation of it all, so pure.
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