When you have time to stop and think about this world we live in, and the relatively short time that we have here, you begin to realise how the land controls almost everything. The land is a permanent feature that we only borrow for the time we have in this world, and everyone who looks after land, be it farm or garden has a responsibility to look after it for the next generation. As my father always said "Farm as if you'll farm for ever, and live as if you'll die tomorrow".
From Nature's Larder it has Come
To stand and think about the crops, that took all year to grow,
The grass to graze the livestock, and some we keep to mow,
To till the soil and sow the seed, and keep the weeds at bay,
Through snow and frost, drought and flood, warm sunshine on the way.
All the years we follow the plan, of seasons through the year,
Some extremes of weather, which we cannot interfere,
Nature has its way of telling, who's in charge of what is growing,
Gather what it gives you, from that seed that you've been sowing.
All things that you eat, from nature's larder it has come,
Must be grateful for the harvest, apples damsons and the plum,
Grain n' root crops, beef n' pork, lamb and chicken all are grown,
On the land that we look after, seeds of life that we have sown.
It's only lent us while were here, for generations you can see,
The mark on land and farms let the fields and hedgerow be,
All people who on earth do come, respect the soil and plants,
Were only here for a short time, its beauty al'ways enchants.
You can if you like put the following verse to the tune of "We plough the fields and scatter" but then we must not try to improve too much on the old traditional words, The vicar had a look and said no, we'll stick to the traditional verses, but I tried.
Completion of the harvest, is a time to celebrate,
Leaves on trees are yellowing, around the whole estate,
Barns and bins are full to bursting, for winter now is here,
In olden days it was the same, to grow still takes a year.
A lot more hand work then, more men worked upon the land,
Ploughed with horses and acre a day, seed was sown by hand,
Good rotation of all the crops, kept most weeds at bay,
At harvest stood sheaves up in stooks, for two church bells they must stay.
Into bays or ricks were built, threshed out as needed through the year,
Wheat went to the mill to be ground, flour for bread we do revere,
Oats to feed the cattle and horses, and some for porridge bound,
To feed the men and families who, work on the land all year round.
Mechanized now and fewer men, but crops still grow the same,
Sunshine and warmth in the spring, showers to grow good crops the aim,
In nature nothing really changes, seasons come and go,
To keep us on the land we all love, its food for everyone we grow.
We have a poor old Alder tree
We have a poor old Alder tree, standing by a gate,
Been there a long time, wire and rails locate,
Grown in the fence line and now matured,
Nails and hinges in the trunk, below the bark obscured.
As the branches break away, and rot gets in its core,
It becomes hollow down the middle, breaks away some more,
All one side is open now, right down to the ground,
Still clad with bark on three sides, inside insects abound.
Its canopy is in full leaf, but a skeleton of what it was,
Wonder how it still stands, the rubbing cattle draws,
All gnarled and knobbly, from the years of damage
A sort of beauty in its old age, time has took its ravage.
What a subject for someone to paint, the photograph was taken well over a year ago, and still it stands right now September 2008.
It will too dangerous to try and chain saw the lower five foot, it has old gate hinges, old horse shoe hammered in for slip rails, six inch nails that held oak rails, and umpteen staples that wire was strained up to it, and barbed wire all embedded under the bark. I put some in myself and also saw most of them dissapear over the years
Quotation ---- A harvest of peace is produced from a seed of contentment