I’ve always been a city gal, but I married a guy raised on a farm. And fifty-some years later, the farm lives on in him. My married life has meant yearly trips back to his hometown of five hundred people, two hours SW of Minneapolis.
This years’ trip was last week. Imagine riding for hours of quiet serenity past these green fields. A perfectly restful ride.
But, after all these years, the only crop I know for sure is corn. I still have to ask, “Are those soybeans?” Or “Are those beets?”
And I still don’t know.
But I do know one happy husband when I see him connected back to the earth he loves and the earth that lives in his heart.
I pray I’ll be able to make this trip for at least a few more years. And that my farm-turned-city guy will continue, patiently, to try to teach me a thing or two.