Lana, this essay touches the sadness just below what I keep away. Yet calmer I become in finally touching that sadness.
My mother sent me a letter regarding her days on our farm during harvest as a child. How the migrant hands ate dinner sitting on the lawn, how the meals were prepared and how the women cooked all day, how they smoked the hams ahead of time, how the vegetables and fruits came from the garden, the orchard, how lemonade was taken to the fields for the workers, workers who would lie down and nap on the lawn after lunch. How her grandfather took her places, like where the sorghum was made, and where the mushrooms grew, and where his buggy and horses were kept.
Later, a highway was run through the middle of the farm, right of domain, right between the house and the barns. Separations continued. Tractors replaced the horses and workers. Extended families became nuclear families as children moved into the cities. As a child I watched the crops being harvested and the men filling up bins in the barns and silos with seed, and asked why they didn't sell all the harvest? Great uncle Gaylen said they needed the seed to plant the next year. I returned years later, and asked why they didn't keep the seed anymore? Gaylen said it wasn't allowed. One had to buy seed now new every year. Further separations. Later the interstates took the traffic away from the road through the farm, but it was of no consequence, the orchards had dried, the animals had gone to market, small farms were sold, and were now just big farms owned by corporations. Grandmother moved to Colorado, and had the largest garden in the neighborhood. "You have to get the roots out, or the weeds come back," she instructed me. The roots were all out now from the farm, and no-one was coming back. Over a hundred miles of corn, the only moving animal is a mechanical elephant, combining all the past into one giant machine.
Oh Richard.... your note touched me. How universal is this pain - for anyone who has experienced the severing from nature that's only getting worse with every passing year. The seeds issue is a crime ... I wonder if people will be waking up to it ... is it too late? This is why I find the work of Vandana Shiva so important. Many small farmers are going back to purity in their small communities ... can we stand against the mechanical elephant? In spite of my literary sarcasm ... I have hope. Thank you for sharing these stories of your mother's farm memories and grandmother garden.
And your previous comments are gone (?) Strange. Anyway - yes, not sure which is scarier - AI bees or vaccinated bees ... lord/ess help us. There was something else you said which I did not understand ....
Lana, this essay touches the sadness just below what I keep away. Yet calmer I become in finally touching that sadness.
My mother sent me a letter regarding her days on our farm during harvest as a child. How the migrant hands ate dinner sitting on the lawn, how the meals were prepared and how the women cooked all day, how they smoked the hams ahead of time, how the vegetables and fruits came from the garden, the orchard, how lemonade was taken to the fields for the workers, workers who would lie down and nap on the lawn after lunch. How her grandfather took her places, like where the sorghum was made, and where the mushrooms grew, and where his buggy and horses were kept.
Later, a highway was run through the middle of the farm, right of domain, right between the house and the barns. Separations continued. Tractors replaced the horses and workers. Extended families became nuclear families as children moved into the cities. As a child I watched the crops being harvested and the men filling up bins in the barns and silos with seed, and asked why they didn't sell all the harvest? Great uncle Gaylen said they needed the seed to plant the next year. I returned years later, and asked why they didn't keep the seed anymore? Gaylen said it wasn't allowed. One had to buy seed now new every year. Further separations. Later the interstates took the traffic away from the road through the farm, but it was of no consequence, the orchards had dried, the animals had gone to market, small farms were sold, and were now just big farms owned by corporations. Grandmother moved to Colorado, and had the largest garden in the neighborhood. "You have to get the roots out, or the weeds come back," she instructed me. The roots were all out now from the farm, and no-one was coming back. Over a hundred miles of corn, the only moving animal is a mechanical elephant, combining all the past into one giant machine.
Oh Richard.... your note touched me. How universal is this pain - for anyone who has experienced the severing from nature that's only getting worse with every passing year. The seeds issue is a crime ... I wonder if people will be waking up to it ... is it too late? This is why I find the work of Vandana Shiva so important. Many small farmers are going back to purity in their small communities ... can we stand against the mechanical elephant? In spite of my literary sarcasm ... I have hope. Thank you for sharing these stories of your mother's farm memories and grandmother garden.
Thank you, and keep growing the good work.
the link for #2 isn't linking
THANI YOU!! I just re-did it and should work now.
And your previous comments are gone (?) Strange. Anyway - yes, not sure which is scarier - AI bees or vaccinated bees ... lord/ess help us. There was something else you said which I did not understand ....