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Spring frost, by Elioth Gruner
Robert L. Martin

The Farmer

The Farmer

Mother Nature was kind to us this early spring.  She, our giver and sustainer of life, smiled at us through the sun and shed her warm tears on the shivering soil, enough to vitalize the earth and yield her bounty to us.
With her probing gentle fingers, she found the solitary seed and pulled its offspring up through the fertile soil to await the sun’s baptism and pay homage to the inundation of the light.
Like a compassionate physician, she pulled the newborn out of the womb to be tended to by the careful hands of our beloved farmer.  His clothes were dirty, but his heart and mind were as clean as the virgin air.  We owe our health and well-being to his constant vigilance of Mother Nature and his intimacy with her many complex secrets.
Since she is his sagacious mother, she dictates how he needs to adjust to her many moods and her superfluous or deficient flowing; too much or not enough water or sun.  His knowledge of the clouds and weather patterns pave the way to a fruitful bounty.
Among the dignified professionals to be honored, including the physicians, educators, statesmen, inventors, artists, and etc.; there are the farmers whose intercourse with nature puts the food on our table .  When we crush an apple with our teeth, we say in our hearts, “I too am a vineyard with my proud branches reaching up toward heaven and my altar harbored in my roots.”
I look toward God, the creator of all who gave me the will to recognize and be thankful for his eternal charity.

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