Lessons of the Farmer
Photo by henry perks on Unsplash
Featured in the Dayton Daily News
On a recent Sunday afternoon, I was at the local garden store on a very specific mission. My assignment was to find begonias. Well, not just any begonias, but the “red kind with variegated leaves that have a hint of yellow at the tip,”…..like, who knows what that means? In my world where begonias are begonias, I had no idea what I was looking for. But for my husband who takes his Spring planting quite seriously, the specific request was part of a grander botanical plan. Living with my husband who is quite particular in all matters of the garden, I exercise the art of resignation so that he can exercise his desire for control. For me, the act of planting flowers is all about a hand shovel and a sunny day. For my husband and others who understand the value of dirt, the art of sowing is bit more intricate. I know that because every May, for weeks our garage is cluttered with wheelbarrows, organic soil enhancers, dirt embedded garden gloves, and variety of hoes and rotary tillers. During the emergence of Spring, I roll my eyes as he embarks on his persnickety routine, but by mid-June I relish in the lush color and variety of greenery surrounding our home due to his “pickiness.” Enjoying a morning cup of coffee amidst the vibrancy of bloom is truly nourishment for the soul. We can chat about the peculiarities of neighborhood planting, but the real mentors of how things grow are the farmers whose vast fields of sustenance surround our suburban flower beds. Their charge to feed us all comes with great responsibility to prepare their fields for growing. Planting is anything but simple. I’m certain the germination of this year’s crop began long before seeds were actually sewn. There’s nothing glamorous about the practice of digging, turning, softening and enriching their expansive fields with tractors the size of a house; but insuring a nutritional foundation for each seedling must give them great satisfaction. Given the opportunity to drive through the splendor of rural Ohio, witnessing corn stalks stretch towards the sky and soybeans merge like a blanket of green remind us that farming is not a job for a hand shovel and a sunny day.
Many of us will enjoy perusing through farmers’ markets this summer. Strawberries oozing with mouth-watering flavor, leaf lettuces worthy of the finest salad bowls, and cherry tomatoes that taste like candy all await our pleasure. Before we know it, our signature Ohio sweet corn will overflow the roadside produce stands. The byproduct of farmers’ efforts will delight us as we venture out each day to pick kernels just off the stalk. Undoubtedly, the ripe crop of deliciousness did not happen without the painstaking drudge of the farmer on those chilled and rainy April days.
I can’t help but think of the life metaphor farmers teach us in their unassuming and widespread process of planting. Certainly, we teach our kids that only through hard work and dedication will they succeed in achieving life goals. A master chef creates culinary delights through the preparatory chopping by a sous chef. And an opera singer spends hours warming up her vocal chords so that she can fill the spaces of a theatre with her well-rehearsed song. But especially for those whose all-encompassing journey towards personal fruition feels daunting or fatiguing, I say just keep tilling along and caring for yourself like a farmer cares for his crops. A bit of water and dose of sunshine go a long way. My husband is proud of his Mercer County roots and his line of ancestry connecting him to the farmers who sewed before him. I admit it’s only through years of watching him have I cultivated an appreciation for those that plant beauty we can all enjoy. Here’s a voice of appreciation for farmers, the unpretentious teachers of how to grow things, even ourselves. Now, I think I’ll grab a glass of iced tea and sit among the splendor of our red, variegated leafed begonias. Now I understand exactly why they were chosen.