I'm thankful for Farmland night skys. I have seen open night skys since leaving UT, but they've either been hovering over jungle, mountain or ocean landscapes. This last weekend, as we drove down to Illinois during the dark hour of 5:00pm, I was reminded how much I love the night sky that stretches endlessly above farm fields. The world truly feels like yours for the taking when you stand in an open field, underneath a starry sky.
I wish Farmer's Markets could last all year round, but sadly, the end is here. PS Our last purchase is still in the garage, a 25lb bag of apples, purchased for $10. Love Farmers Markets!
Which brings me to #3. I just love me some farmers. I try to avoid stereotyping groups of people, but I still stand by the assumption that farmers are some of the hardest working people on Earth. They also tend to be giving and honest, in a straightforward sort of way. I know this isn't an accurate depiction of all farmers. I know some farmer's sons who, despite 4am wake ups, turned out pretty lazy. And I know Big Farm does some damaging things to our nation. But to me, the typical American farmer, embodies some of the greatest human values.
I'm thankful for my childhood farm experiences. Ben harasses me for saying I grew up on a farm, and I admit it sounds misleading. But when I casually mention feeding a donkey sugar cubes, riding the hide at a local rodeo, being kicked by a 1 ton cow, or standing my ground while a herd of loose sheep head straight for me; it often gives the impression I grew up on a farm. Though it was my Uncles farm, I still took great pride in it, knowing it once belonged to my grandfather, and at least a few acres of it belonged to my dad. Growing up with farm-life all around you, but never having to do the hard farm labor really is the best childhood to have, ha ha. I'm grateful for it every day. PS I think my favorite casual farm story was when I told my 2nd period I rode 4 miles to the nearest gas station, on the back of my best friends horse, so we could buy Little Debbie treats. They gazed at me like I was a foreigner; they were speechless, until they laughed.
I feel like I've covered everything, the farm land, the farm products, the farm people, and the farm experiences. So I guess the only thing left is to acknowledge farms across the world. That may sound like I'm trying too hard to stretch this . . . but I'm not. I've gazed awestruck at the rice fields of Borneo Island. I've watched as toothless women, aged beyond their years, sort the grains that feed thousands across the globe. I can't dwell on this too much, or I'll get frustrated about the way the wealthy (myself included) take advantage of the laborer. But I must adress my deep gratitude for the meek, and my gratitude that they will inherit the Earth.
Who knows it better than they do?
I LOVE farmers markets. The ambiance is so relaxing, and the prices can't be beat. For example: at Wal-Mart I spent $2 on that floppy, brown basil (2 stems worth) in my hand, and at the Farmers market I spent $2 on that beautiful, lush basil (at least 6 stems worth) filling a medium size mixing bowl.
Which brings me to #3. I just love me some farmers. I try to avoid stereotyping groups of people, but I still stand by the assumption that farmers are some of the hardest working people on Earth. They also tend to be giving and honest, in a straightforward sort of way. I know this isn't an accurate depiction of all farmers. I know some farmer's sons who, despite 4am wake ups, turned out pretty lazy. And I know Big Farm does some damaging things to our nation. But to me, the typical American farmer, embodies some of the greatest human values.
I'm thankful for my childhood farm experiences. Ben harasses me for saying I grew up on a farm, and I admit it sounds misleading. But when I casually mention feeding a donkey sugar cubes, riding the hide at a local rodeo, being kicked by a 1 ton cow, or standing my ground while a herd of loose sheep head straight for me; it often gives the impression I grew up on a farm. Though it was my Uncles farm, I still took great pride in it, knowing it once belonged to my grandfather, and at least a few acres of it belonged to my dad. Growing up with farm-life all around you, but never having to do the hard farm labor really is the best childhood to have, ha ha. I'm grateful for it every day. PS I think my favorite casual farm story was when I told my 2nd period I rode 4 miles to the nearest gas station, on the back of my best friends horse, so we could buy Little Debbie treats. They gazed at me like I was a foreigner; they were speechless, until they laughed.
I feel like I've covered everything, the farm land, the farm products, the farm people, and the farm experiences. So I guess the only thing left is to acknowledge farms across the world. That may sound like I'm trying too hard to stretch this . . . but I'm not. I've gazed awestruck at the rice fields of Borneo Island. I've watched as toothless women, aged beyond their years, sort the grains that feed thousands across the globe. I can't dwell on this too much, or I'll get frustrated about the way the wealthy (myself included) take advantage of the laborer. But I must adress my deep gratitude for the meek, and my gratitude that they will inherit the Earth.
2 comments:
I have never been to a farmers market. I figured they were more expensive so I avoided them. Good to know, I will be stopping by next time.
Loved, loved, loved your post, but the very last comment had to be my favorite! Great thought! Thanks hon!
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