Sacred Ground

I know that if you've followed this blog very long that you have heard me talk
about my Sweet Farmer. I also am aware that I speak of him as if he is the Prince of Persia. (It's actually quite embarrassing to him sometimes).

He is no myth. He's a real life man with struggles and weaknesses as any man. But to me- well,
he really is somewhat of a gentle giant of a man. Not just to me but to my grown children, and my grandsons.

He came along at a time when we were all hopelessly floundering. I was several years out of a tangled and complex marriage of 19 years that had been, for the most part, painful and wounding. I was one of those silly girls that thought I was doing the right thing by staying. Perservering. Faithful to a fault. It all feels now like a bad car-wreck of which my children and I spent years recovering. We would have made it. Without him. But I'm so glad we didn't.

He didn't exactly save us. But there WAS something very redeeming about him. I did dream of this man as a little girl- the prince you want to marry, the good man, the kind man, the generous man, handsome, tall, good-looking. The one that loves your children and plays with your grandchildren. He saved the dream.

Today he's working on a little piece of land in front of the house. It is as close to a Zen garden as I will ever know.It has that tone and feel today- that peaceful, languishing, tended tone.

He has carefully tilled around these pecan trees, and then leveled it perfectly so that he can flood irrigate it with no water waste. I step out on my front porch and watch him work.

I realize why watching him satisfies something deep in me. He cares for the land like he cares for his family and for his animals - with a tenderness, and careful hand, with a studied observation, and a natural hunger to make all things better by his efforts.


And I am part of this garden now that I view from my front porch. I have been carefully loved and tended and  I have rooted like these trees that prosper and produce healthy crops year after year.

He floods it later and is proud of the fact that not a trail of water leaks from his leveled plain. He wants me to take a picture. 

I'm a little proud too that for now this carefully tended acre is full to almost overflowing, like my heart and my admiration for this simple, loving, sweet, sweet farmer. (now you know)

Someday, our ashes will be spread on this piece of land. I know its not a fancy place. It's a small part of the farm that happens to be my front porch view. But it represents a sacred place to us where love was grown, tilled, worked and tended. Cared for very, very well.