Farmers
My father and his father were Farmers. It wasn't told to me,
but I suspect that my Great Grandfather was also a Farmer.
My wife's father was also a hard-working and successful Farmer.
However, in my family line, farming ended with my father.
From my second-story window, it's a beautiful sight.
Presently, having chosen to retire in the rural, I am
surrounded on three sides by fields of corn, and on the
fourth side, beans greet me every day with a smile.
I don't see a Farmer, but his workmanship is on display.
I can't imagine a Farmer who doesn't know how to pray.
When his work is done, whether by choice or otherwise,
he must wait and trust his God for rain lest there be pain.
It's now late June, and in this Dixie Delta Region, there have
been very generous out-pours of rain that have treated the plants
and soil. Corn stalks, embraced with soft grains of corn, cover each
cob of corn. Golden, yellowish tassels grace the tops of corn stalks,
and the farmers are happy as they wait for the corn to harden.
Sometime in August when the corn has finally hardened, it will be
time for the harvest. One would assume that harvest is the final
test for the Farmer. In these parts, the Farmers are also dependent
upon the river. In the harvest season, it is good to be dry but not
for long. The river's depth must be adequate for the cargo ships
to float. If the rains are not just right, the Farmer must wait and pray.
063023PS
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