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A Tribute to the Canadian Farmer

A Tribute to the Canadian Farmer

I am only a farmer.
I know the sun better than anyone.
And the soil.
And the wind.
And the rain.
I an the man who works with them.
Who lives with them.
Who loves them.
And who sometimes fears them.
I am only a farmer.

I am the sower of the seeds.
I am the tender of the stock.
I am the reaper of the harvest.
I am sweat.
And tears.
And pride.
I am only a farmer.

I am the man who feeds the young.
And the old.
The weak.
And the strong.
I am the black earth of Spring.
The green hills of Summer.
The harvest gold of Autumn.
And the cold white stillness of winter.
I am only a farmer.

I am warm memories of the past.
The steely reality of the present.
And the hopeful dream of the future.
I am an optimist.
A thinker.
A watcher.
And a doer.
I am only a farmer.

I live in a complex world.
Made of simple things.
And they are the source of my joy.
And hope.
And comfort.
I have walked in the morning fogs.
I have paused for the Summer song of the meadowlark.
And I have savored the breeze off freshly cut hay.
I have paused, remembering, by the stream I knew as a boy.
I have felt the power of a thousand storms.
I have rejoiced in the fresh world left in their wake.
I am only a farmer.

I am an accountant.
Chemist.
And doctor.
I am a midwife.
And a mechanic.
I am a seller.
Trader.
And buyer.
I am a husband.
Helper.
And a partner to my wife.
I am a father.
Friend.
Comforter.
And a teacher to my children.
I am only a farmer.

Not a man of riches.
But a man of great wealth.
I have learned to treasure life.
And all things living.
To respect their maker.
And my own.
I am humbled by the earth’s bounty.
And awed by endless rebirth.
I am fascinated by the marvelous intricacies of my world.
And enriched by their beauty.
I am only a farmer.

If a man can truly be free, then truly I am.
The day.
The week.
The month.
They have been entrusted to me.
They are mine to spend.
They are mine to invest.
They are mine to use wisely.
It is a solitary profession I have chosen.
Or, perhaps that I have been chosen for.
A profession where there are no certainties.
Where no guarantees are granted.
No promises given.
No excuses taken.
I have but one man to answer to.
One man to depend on.
One man to confide in.
And in the quiet of the years, I have come to know him well.
I am only a farmer.

I am perseverance.
And creativity.
And courage.
I am only a farmer.

I am confidence.
And ingenuity.
And intelligence.
I am only a farmer.

A seeker of excellence...
And I will endure.

Anonymous


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