A Hoe is a Hoe,
A hoe is a hoe, that’s what most people say,
But ‘my’ hoe got broken, just the other day,
My grand-daughter borrowed it,[she didn't ask me],
Now the handle is broken, causing me perplexity,
She bought a brand new handle, but it won’t be the same,
A handle’s not a handle, that’s what I will proclaim,
That hoe once belonged, to my mother-in-law,
She cleaned it up and oiled it, every fall,
Then one day she passed it, along to me,
I think the handle had been carved, from a Hickory tree,
It was smooth as velvet, from all the years of use,
Shaped slender for a Lady’s hand, not made for such abuse,
I’m trying to be kind, and behave graciously,
Cause my darling grand-daughter, means quite a lot to me,
I’ll have to break it in, try to form it to my hand,
But a hoe’s not just a hoe, now I hope you can understand…
4-29-10 c.d.m.
The Simple Country Farmer,
Down the road, a piece, there lived, a man and his wife,
Farming, was his profession, and he’d done so, all his life,
He was the son, of a farmer, who was the son, of one too,
He’d had choices in life, but farming’s, what he chose, to do.
He bought the land, that joined his fathers, and wed, his sweetheart,
They spent, their lives together, and were seldom, apart,
Every year, I watched them tend, the same, piece of land,
They would raise, a lovely garden, without, a helping hand,
They would plant it, and tend it, and gather, it all in,
They raised more, than enough, and gave the excess, to friends,
He, in his straw hat, with mud boots, up to his knees,
Her, in a cotten dress, that gently waved, in the breeze,
They would faithfully, tend to their garden, side, by side,
The simple, country farmer, and his sweet, little bride,
I’d watch them, and marvel, at their gardening, abilities,
And I wondered, why my garden, didn’t do, the same for me,
Well I had clumps, as big as melons, I would still, try to hoe,
I’d water, weed, and feed it, but my garden didn’t grow,
After one or two years,I thought, I may as well, give up,
That’s when, the simple country farmer, taught this simple, country ‘pup’,
He said, A lot of it sis, is in the soils, preparation,
Then, another large part, is in your hearts, determination,
You put your heart, into the soil, and it will give, it’s heart to you,
It takes time, for hearts to grow, more than just, a year or two,
I listened, and I tried it, and much, to my delight,
My garden, responded, and it’s such, a lovely sight,
It takes love, to tend a garden , or the soil, of a heart,
And a heart, that is determined, is the first place, to start.
c.d.m. 6-11-10
Summer Gardening
It was a have-to case, for so many years,
just to feed, the family,
That I hung up my gloves, for a long time,
and rested my poor knees,
But it gets in your blood, and you miss it,
when you’ve given it, up for a while,
The first smell of the earth, as we turned it,
caused my lips, to smile,
Then there was, fertilizing,
and marking out, of the rows,
And planning what go’s where, is important,
just as every gardener, knows,
The corn must go in, two by two,
cucumbers need room, to vine,
Marigolds, keep the bugs away,
at least they do, in mine,
Potatoes must have lot’s, of room,
so they can then be, hilled,
The hoe, must tend to every row,
for the larder, to be filled,
Tomatoes, must be tied up,
so the sun can touch the fruit,
Beans, like a little lime applied,
but they still, will make you ‘toot’,
The strangest tale, I’ve yet to hear,
an old woman, recounted to me,
Concerning, sweet green peppers,
and how to plant them, properly,
She looked up at me, with a toothless grin,
said,’ For peppers to bear fruit miss’,
‘You must plant them real close together’,
’cause see, ‘sweet’ peppers just love to kiss’.
c.d.m. 5-31-10
