Monthly Archives: December 2011

The Gift of a Poor Farmer Christmas

A modern day Christmas Carol from one poor farmer to you.  Please read in a very excited, husky holiday voice.  Happy Holidays!

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A Farmer woke in mid December with thoughts of Spring kindly remembered

Prepared with a cloak of nostalgic sunlight to block the cold winter air

But the stillness of a winters sleep-or the silent death of a morning freeze

Brought real the season of rest for which other seasons do not compare

The season in which you collect, reflect and ultimately prepare

For a Spring time lost out on the horizon, laying in wait somewhere

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She tied her boots and adjusted her socks, checked her wrist where she found no watch

And boldly stepped out into the world so calm, so cool, so fair

Sparrows and Cardinals fluttered up and down from the trees and to the ground

And through the limbs would proudly sound as if to righteously declare

That their courageous winter’s stay in the marsh gave them ownership to the air

Gave them rights to the best roosting places that have recently become bare-

As their avian counterparts took flight in the fall in search of warmth somewhere

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Her farm was grey though plants grew on-root vegetables went on to sing their songs

And the greens drew sweetness straight from the breaths of wintery air

There were still enough treats to stew and roast, still enough food to slow cook and toast

As the outside world continued to reduce in color and flare

As the outside world waits patiently, quiet, still and rare

For the life giving heat of a distant star promising to soon be there

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But Hark!  She remembered the celebrations, of food and gifts and stiff libations

Bound to the Holiday Season filling the cold with warmth and care

The time we have created for the great grey anticipated

Where we’re hermit-ted, locked in and slated against the introspection and despair

Of a mind whose hands are so accustomed to being busy beyond compare

When the farm she tends is in full swing with life whose fruits do bare

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But what does a poor farmer have to give to those whose love has helped her live

When life has left her down and out-self conscious and self aware

How can she repay the gifts of others from her dearest friends to her loving Mothers

All those who have thoughtful, plentiful gifts to present with care

She searches her pockets only to find a few pennies jingling there

Seemingly nothing but a bad back and the dirt under her fingernails left to share

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But what about those summer months when she gave food away to everyone

And she swore an oath to protect the land and the creatures that inhabited there

If only she could steal some of that sunlight and the starry, sultry summer nights

To stuff in the stockings of those she truly cares

Bring a little taste of nature’s grace to the boisterous Holiday affair

She closed her eyes and imagined a basket full of the best of summer’s wares

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She sulked away from her farm and into the woods where it was dim and dark

And sat atop an Oak Tree’s arm, nature’s perfected outdoor chair

With close attention she discovered that though nature seemed still and covered

That the forest felt full and frenzied and life persisted everywhere

That when the cool, still winter rests it head in nature’s lair

No plant or creature turns its soul to grief, self pity and despair

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No life continued at some gate prepared and glad, no time to waste

The world itself is gift enough for the oak, the ants, the hare

No bow could add more splendor than what the natural world can already render

Everything from soil to embers-things worth more than any billionaire

Things that can be neither created, destroyed nor mechanically repaired

Things whose very manifestation leaves us breathless and unaware

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“So, perhaps that’s it!” She expressed as she fled the Oak as if fledging her nest

And pondered the gifts she contributes to the incredible reality where

Where her work days are transparent and her intentions sink deep into the planet

And she feeds her fellow humans the best nature has to share

By being a steward to the rare gifts that lie in wait out there

The things we stand to lose if we live the way we choose and do not think to care

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So maybe that is what she has to give-the chance to grow and let things live

The chance to mend the soil who has always been generous and fair

A chance to show a desperate humanity that our chemicals and waste go beyond insanity

That the world outdoors is diverse, enchanting and rare

Without it our world would lack in many things we share

Everything from food to fire, clean water and fresh air

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She smiled mostly with her eyes as geese reinvented geometry in the sky

And the Holiday Spirit danced through her messy, knotted hair

The spirit that has little to do with what you can buy and what you do

And was born out of the community of living life aware

Of being true to the ones you love living here, or living there

A sense of understanding towards each other and the greater world we share

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So the gift of a poor farmer comes to you free of charge or-

At least priced something most would consider fair

We promise to nurture the ones you know as we labor our lives to grow

Food that comes to you with the utmost integrity and care

From the very soils that catch your boots and grant you access everywhere

A Christmas gift we hope to give to all of you all year.