My father would have loved to have raised a farmer.
And he did
Sort of.
My sister Ann has taken his pecan grove
To production heights that would amaze
And fill him with pride.
I garden at home and in the community.
We are definately not the farmer he was
But we do our best.
I now understand the desire to pass along
My love for the land.
So last week when my son, Elliott
And his children were visiting
We spent time in the garden
And at the farm.
John drove us to different farms
Pointing out details
While I sat between H & H as we call them
Sharing my memories.
It was when Elliott
Insisted we stop to watch a combine
Harvesting wheat,
Then take a few wheat heads
To show the kids how to make “wheat gum”,
And then asked
H & H if they wanted to see the oil in the tanks
That I realized we were really on
The Henry Bellmon Farm Tour….the Next Generation.
My dad took anyone who was interested
On a tour of the farm.
He would spend hours telling his passenger about
The cattle and the land
Especially the farm where his dad lived in a dugout
In the late 1890’s.
And then
He would likely head to a battery of oil tanks.
Where they would climb the rickety stairs
Open a lid
And check on the production.
So when I saw Elliott doing the same thing.
It took me back to those days
And thrilled my soul.
The summers Elliott spent on the farm
Are deeply ingrained in who he is.
But he, too, is not a farmer.
It is unlikely there is a farmer
In the next generation.
But daddy would be happy
That his farm tour lives on.
Through John & Elliott.
Hope you enjoy these sunny days.
Gail
In My Garden 