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The Polly Papers

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On the Farm

The pickers arrived. Bending low, they pulled leeks, carrots, beets. A final harvest. There were five of them: two women, three men; Black, brown and white. The plow came later; the shadows lengthened. Evening cast her veil on the now fallowed fields. When the waning moon arose, night’s mist laid down her soft blanket on the sleeping fields.

We have moved to a farm. It’s less than four miles from our former home in the same town yet it feels as if we have moved 50 years back in time. The fields beyond our windows have been farmed for at least that long and continue to be sown, watered and harvested in the same way as they were then. As the world whirls and swirls in its increasingly frantic gyre, a peaceful timelessness welcomes us to this small patch of grace and beauty.

Yesterday, I listened to a wise and seasoned witness for peace and justice speak about the age we are living through as an apocalyptic time. Unlike a more common belief that an apocalypse is disaster and destruction presaging the end of the world, the Greek word actually means “an uncovering, a lifting of the veil.” This is what we are living through. The shadowy veils that have hidden long-standing racism, hatred, corruption, deceit, violence, fraud and countless phobias are beginning to pull away as the long-awaited spotlight of justice shines on it. That accounting, as we are all too aware, does not and will not arrive quickly or easily. Yet, there are hints here and there if we look for them.

I found one when I saw the harvesters in the fields: five workers, three skin colors, male, female and probably five cultural experiences, all working together for a common purpose. Tending the earth, providing food, sharing a safe and clean place to live. Not a world-shaking event; simply one small reminder that someday, somehow there will be what is often called The Beloved Community.

What have you seen, or read or heard that gives you hope? Is it a short piece in the paper or on your social platform about a kind act, hidden among all the stories of flood, fire and falsehoods; have you received a generous gesture from a friend or an opportunity to provide someone a listening ear? Maybe it was a glorious glimpse out the car window of a blazing orange maple tree or a child riding her bike.

It needn’t be big, extraordinary or newsworthy, simply a moment in your day that lifts your spirit and provides a bit of solace for you, for a friend, for your community.

Keep watch!

11 thoughts on “On the Farm”

  1. Yes. Apparently the word “apocalypse” was originally used in English to refer to the “dénouement” at the end of dramas when the meaning is made clear or “un-knotted.” The end-of-the-world connotation came with fire-and-brimstone preachers in the 19th century. Your articles often provide a welcome apocalypse, in the original meaning.

  2. Thank you, What a beautiful piece! It took me to my grandparent’s farm and a different time. Your thoughts on this time has provided hope for me and I am sure others as well. Borgie

  3. Sandria Ryan Parsons

    Thank you, Polly. I hope you will continue to reflect on the seasonalities of your new life on the farm. In the chaos of today, waiting impatiently for change, the predictability of cycles in the fertile fields is a comfort to me.
    Sandria

  4. If you want to use the photo it would also be good to check with the artist beforehand in case it is subject to copyright. Best wishes. Aaren Reggis Sela

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