I admire the farmer. I admire the gardener, the seed saver, the flower shop owner, the apiarist, the rancher, the orchardist, the farm hand, not necessarily the massive corporate Monsanto staple crop farmer but more the small ma and pa farmer. I admire my neighbors for thier garlic farm; regardless all produce sustenance and I respect that. It is humbling to be at the will of Mother Nature's power and to be a harvester of nature's bounty.
Today, May Day 2012, as I gaze from the 12th story window onto a quiet city I am pleasantly at ease with nature. The greenhouse is abuzz with starts; growing from tiny seeds into plentiful plants that will soon nourish me. The apple, cherry, pear, and plum blossoms adorn each tree bough awaiting the busy work of the bee and the wind to transfer the pollen from anther to stigma. The fallow beds, tilled to perfection, lie dormant until the white pillows melt atop the surrounding mountains indicating that it is time to harden the starts and begin the planting process.
All the quietness and stillness at Cheney Farms is Mother Natures' silent battle cry denoting the changing of the seasons.