Founder's Note | An ode to our farmers Posted on 20 Nov 11:13
This Thanksgiving, among so many things, we’re thankful for our families, our friends, for our health, for the bounty that this land provides, and for the freedoms in this country that we often take for granted. But most of all, we’re thankful for our farmers. Without them, we really have nothing at all. Their legacy is one we hope to carry on. This poem is for them.
To our farmers, we give thanks.
They say it's just dirt
As far as I can see on both sides of the road,
the darkest dirt flows endlessly -
Black Gold I’ve heard it called here.
8 feet of topsoil, that took thousands of years to build up.
In the early dawn hours, this cotton candy morning, I see it all...
The silver dew glistening on the culvert grass
and I feel the blackness reach out and almost touch me.
My hands dig through this land and I’m washed in the memories
of all who came before,
of the farmers and ranchers who cared for this land, these animals.
Sunday dinners. Children laughing playing in the rows. Standing around the truck, planning,
relaxing. Candle lit prayers. Hard days. Bone tired at the end, ready to collapse but still
chores need doing.
Many hard days.
I breathe it in. It’s good for me. This dirt that feeds us. That fed everyone before us.
Some say it’s just dirt. Those who haven’t touched it, haven’t bled in it.
I rub it in my hands and I feel stronger.
This dirt that carries those before us, into my life.
One day I will return to the black. And one day, maybe someone in these fields
will hold me. But for now,
I lean on them.
I lean on them.