Homage to the Migrant Farmer

With straw hat in hand,
The worker of the land does pray –
God brings new green shoots.

💙 🌸 💚 🌸 💜 🌸 ❤️ 🌸 💛

When I was working as a floor nurse in Oxnard California in the 1990s it was not uncommon for field workers or their families to come to be patients in our beds. I especially remember one particular wrinkly old grampa who worked the land. He did not have any family available to visit him. Like many workers of the land in Southern California, he likely had family in Mexico and was sending money to them monthly.
Early on the evening I am remembering, 3 grampas came in to visit him. The three men visiting were dressed in clean, patched and well cared for clothing. In their hands they held their straw hats which protected from sun and then rain as they worked the fields. All 3 wore an aura of peace and humility. It would have been easy to miss really seeing them. They wore colors in the beautiful tones of our Mother The Earth, also their walk and words were quiet.
It was rainy on the night of their visit. Going in the room, checking to see that the grampa was comfortable and his needs were met, I sought to make the visitors comfortable also and so opened up a casual conversation with the intention of putting at ease.
Proverbial conversation opener, I noted the sound of the rain falling outside the window. With ease we fell into conversation, I was in their territory now – the realm of Mother Earth and our relationship with her. Their english was limited and my spanish even more limited. In the few minutes I was with them it became clear to me, these were men of great knowledge related to the earth and her care.
In Oxnard two of the primary crops are strawberries and Oranges. With ease, the grampas noted how the amount of water falling could drastically change the outcome for these two crops. They spoke of the delicate balance needed to create success in flavor and production for both and further how the needs of one was somewhat different from the needs of the other.
Wherein a moment before, I had mistakenly thought that I was the only healer/nurse in the room – I clearly saw I was in the room with 4 healers of the land.
They thought I was special – educated – the ‘enfermera’.
It was now my turn to be humbled. These 4 men who had over a life time gathered an understanding of the land and the care of the plants living on the land, were respectful to a young woman who because of a few years spent with her nose in a book thought she knew something about healing and care for living things. These mens' lives were spent at-one with the living book of the earth.
As the 3 grampas, and the patient himself thanked me for the care I gave – I in turn thanked them. Their soil stained hands brought life to the people day after day and year after year. They took their ‘knowing’ as matter of course.
I learned something very important that evening. My life was changed forever. Those four grampas had a relationship with the land and a knowledge of how to nurture life that was and continues to be sorely needed.
Many times through the years, I remember specifically those 4 men, who changed my perspective forever with their simple talk of plants, soil and rain. Many times through the years, in prayer I say, “Thank you for taking care of the land. Thank you for taking a few minutes to teach me a little bit about the land.”

💙 🌸 💚 🌸 💜 🌸 ❤️ 🌸 💛

With gratitude for those who care for the land,

bringing us nutritious food and beautiful foliage. 

💙 🌸 💚 🌸 💜 🌸 ❤️ 🌸 💛

With gratitude also for the migrant farm workers in California

and through out the world who sustain the people. 

💙 🌸 💚 🌸 💜 🌸 ❤️ 🌸

💛

💙 🌸 💚 🌸 💜 🌸 ❤️ 🌸 💛
I do not know the source of the photos used in this blog
💙 🌸 💚 🌸 💜 🌸 ❤️ 🌸