Originally posted on Creation's Song:
I can remember being pretty little–four, five maybe. Digging my fingers into the dirt in my mother’s garden, my sisters pudgy hands playing right next to mine, her face (and likely mine as well) covered in streaks of mud. We “helped”, you know. Helped with the planting, helped with the weeding, with the harvest.
In those days, the farm was about 40 acres of horses, steers, cotton, and alfalfa with a little garden patch. As multi-generational agriculturists, my family was somewhat offended by the idea of Earth Day. In our world, where the land and the animals were a sacred trust, every day was earth day.
People who live in cities think they know more about how to protect the world than farmers and I will admit that the two or three corporate farms in America are not really doing their part. But the real farmers and ranchers, the men…
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