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ravenblanc
08-17-2008, 08:33 AM
story of the plums AKA the message of my universe...

Do you remember me telling you of my grandfather and his farm..my great disappointment in not saving the world by making him see the light of organic farming? Years prior to my arrival on the scene this prime agricultural area had been doused with DDT to the max..devastating the populations of both birds and bees,which are essential to farming.My grandfather's farm was quite diversified so was not quite as adversely affected as some others.

Sometimes my grandparents got tired of my curious company,quite frequently,in fact. At those times they would send me down the lane to old Dean's place..home of both old Dean and young Dean.The mode of transportation was unique..a small 2 wheeled cart hitched to a cantankerous and morose old billy goat named Hector..and why shouldn't Hector have been somewhat ill tempered? He was a noble beast not meant to be pulling carts like some sorry ass..he had his pride.You could not push him,nor would he be led..and threats were treated with eye rolling disdain..but ahhhh... he loved to give chase. Queenie the farm dog was always game..I'd yell 'old Dean's Queenie!' and she'd dash down the lane and Hector could never resist the urge to chase her.

Old Dean's place was quaint..which meant downed fences and faded paint.His farm consisted of trees..mostly fruit trees but others as well.The orchards had been hit very hard by the lack of bees and old Dean was feeling the pinch.But he hung on to the place because... he just loved trees.

And he knew trees..as we walked through them he could never resist touching each one and he spoke to them and to me of tree things.And interspersed with this I would tell him about my frustrations with my grandfather's condemnation of my ideas of how the land should be nurtured.Young Dean would stroll with us for a time but eventually he always passed us and headed to the knoll..and Hector now freed of the damnable cart would go with him nosing around for windfalls.Young Dean never seemed a child but rather,an old man..and perhaps it was this bearing that kept Hector from chasing him.I learned later that young Dean did carry a heavy burden from the past on those young shoulders.

These visits continued,never changing, for years..seven years,in fact.In that seventh year the three of us continued walking and talking...Hector now retired,followed without cart,his duties as transportation taken over by the horses.But young Dean did not follow,he led and old Dean moved ahead to be with him.They headed up the path to the knoll and both turned around grinning..bowed to me and spread their arms to encompass their kingdom of trees.."one hundred percent organic!" they laughed..and explained how they had become certified organic orchardists..a process which takes seven years.Sweet moment of memory...

And yet things were still tough.Production had increased but the market for organic was not yet part of the equation.But after, that whenever I had an actual place to call home, I would get a box of fruit from the Deans.

Old Dean passed away. Young Dean carried on at the farm, married and eventually had a family.Somehow in having his own children he was able to shirk the burdens of his youth and become childlike.And the trees prospered. Eventually the market was there..'if you plant it they will come'....and they did!

----------------
hello
piece out
peace out

:D

Bard
08-17-2008, 09:37 AM
story of the plums AKA the message of my universe...

Do you remember me telling you of my grandfather and his farm..my great disappointment in not saving the world by making him see the light of organic farming? Years prior to my arrival on the scene this prime agricultural area had been doused with DDT to the max..devastating the populations of both birds and bees,which are essential to farming.My grandfather's farm was quite diversified so was not quite as adversely affected as some others.

Sometimes my grandparents got tired of my curious company,quite frequently,in fact. At those times they would send me down the lane to old Dean's place..home of both old Dean and young Dean.The mode of transportation was unique..a small 2 wheeled cart hitched to a cantankerous and morose old billy goat named Hector..and why shouldn't Hector have been somewhat ill tempered? He was a noble beast not meant to be pulling carts like some sorry ass..he had his pride.You could not push him,nor would he be led..and threats were treated with eye rolling disdain..but ahhhh... he loved to give chase. Queenie the farm dog was always game..I'd yell 'old Dean's Queenie!' and she'd dash down the lane and Hector could never resist the urge to chase her.

Old Dean's place was quaint..which meant downed fences and faded paint.His farm consisted of trees..mostly fruit trees but others as well.The orchards had been hit very hard by the lack of bees and old Dean was feeling the pinch.But he hung on to the place because... he just loved trees.

And he knew trees..as we walked through them he could never resist touching each one and he spoke to them and to me of tree things.And interspersed with this I would tell him about my frustrations with my grandfather's condemnation of my ideas of how the land should be nurtured.Young Dean would stroll with us for a time but eventually he always passed us and headed to the knoll..and Hector now freed of the damnable cart would go with him nosing around for windfalls.Young Dean never seemed a child but rather,an old man..and perhaps it was this bearing that kept Hector from chasing him.I learned later that young Dean did carry a heavy burden from the past on those young shoulders.

These visits continued,never changing, for years..seven years,in fact.In that seventh year the three of us continued walking and talking...Hector now retired,followed without cart,his duties as transportation taken over by the horses.But young Dean did not follow,he led and old Dean moved ahead to be with him.They headed up the path to the knoll and both turned around grinning..bowed to me and spread their arms to encompass their kingdom of trees.."one hundred percent organic!" they laughed..and explained how they had become certified organic orchardists..a process which takes seven years.Sweet moment of memory...

And yet things were still tough.Production had increased but the market for organic was not yet part of the equation.But after, that whenever I had an actual place to call home, I would get a box of fruit from the Deans.

Old Dean passed away. Young Dean carried on at the farm, married and eventually had a family.Somehow in having his own children he was able to shirk the burdens of his youth and become childlike.And the trees prospered. Eventually the market was there..'if you plant it they will come'....and they did!

----------------
hello
piece out
peace out

:D

Raven..

Oh how you have warmed my heart.

I do hope this is the story I told you I felt was worth penning.

if so or not

Whatever your penning is grand, not good, grand

You are a talented gifted writer

You always wrote my insides

So very gracious of you to return

We love ya

Rodney...(indebted and SO very happy to see you

Your words upon discovering them, always brought peasce to my heart

I have missed yu so very much

Rodney

ravenblanc
08-17-2008, 01:47 PM
Thanks so much for your kind and always eloquent words,my friend.Your thoughts are always both respected and appreciated.
This piece is not the from the one you mentioned but somehow I thought it appropriate,in this moment.
I have popped in and out from time to to time so I have been keeping up with the 'board action'.Sometimes there is a season to be quiet.But I have missed our interactions,especially in the Poetry Pavillion.There is no debt between us..the 'peace to the heart' goes both ways.

Sending my best vibes to you and all in Bardonia. :flowers