A single joy of mine is walking to the mailbox. It’s not too far, but far enough. Just down to the green gate, then just a bit on the county road to the highway where three boxes are lined up waiting. We get no mail out here yet, we haven’t fowarded our address, so a questioning person might question my actions of walking to the mailbox. But it appeals to me.
Most days I walk to the mailbox, open it, cluck my tongue at its empty womb, close it, and walk back up the county road to the green gate back to the house. However, my daily walk found the mailbox fruitful the other day when I found my new ubscription to MaryJane’s Farm magazine. I quickly sat down and devoured it. Here’s an excerpt I’d like to share:
by Alisen Payette, Missouri
I have learned a lot in the past eight years living on our small Missouri farm. I hae always loved food, but participating in the planting, growing, harvesting, and storage has caused me to appreciate it in a different way. I have come to say that my favorite thing about farming is sitting down to a completelyy homegrown meal in the middle of January. Just this last winter, I realized what a gift this lifestyle has truly been—and the awareness came in the form of a pie.
With each fork-filled bite, I tasted more than the pie…it was an experience, a memory. I looked at my neighbor, who had created this savory dessert to close an amazing meal. I thought of her pigs who had lazily watched her work the warm days of summer…they became the lard she rendered in the cool of the fall…which eventually helped create the rich, flaky crust that danced among my taste buds. I thought of the rhubarb, carefully tended, harvested, and prepared by her hands. As fresh cream slowly melded with the juice of the pie, I thought of the cow from the nearby farm who was led from the field to the barn and back again. I felt as if I were eating a gift wrapped in love, hard work, and true appreciation for the food itself.
Gosh, I wish I could describe how this writing makes me feel.
I have such dreams friends….