Time
for Country Mice to Get Happy
by
Meg Curtis, PhD
As
perfume drifts in from the fields, the trees clump with red fruit,
and the vines swirl with purple drapes. Dionysus prepares the urns
for wine. Harvest will soon be upon us with its heady offerings.
Farmers
continue to be the lucky ones among laborers who may never see the
fruit of their dedication. Agricultural workers see that fruit, smell
it, touch it with reverant hands.
Cherry
and berry pickers return from their climbs and forays covered with
red juice, not human blood. They wrestle with branches and wind
tossing gaunt arms, not bullets. They radiate sun.
They
live with water as refreshment for plants and animals alike. They
pour it, whisper it, at just the moment of need, knowing thirst is a
universal challenge. They feed animals first, themselves last.
Animals
understand farmers' compassion. Their eyes turn to those who work
with them every day. This is team work of the first order, preserving
the earth so it may rise again, watching it sleep.
Do
not ask a farmer if bumblebees matter. Do not ask him or her if land
is a commodity or home. Just ask: How did you do this? And s/he will
answer: God knows. The rain came in time.
If
the rain does not come on a reliable schedule, then farmers will have
risked their all for nothing. Just look at the sky as they do: It
rumbles with power. It breathes with freedom to make a living.
All
marvels do not come from machines. Yes, the combines will be busy,
and the pitchforks will send bales flying. But in the great schemes
of Nature, who are we but mice who nibble gratefully?
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