Farm Foolish

Sunday I sat at a table with three guys who know about farming and realized how little I know about sheep, bees, be hives, the state bee inspector, alfalfa, chickens and eggs, shearing sheep, when to plant things, on and on.

Funny thing is, I grew up around farming. My Uncle Russel had a big farm with sheep and pigs and lots of stuff I know nothing about. My uncle Lee had cows when I was growing up. My father grew up on a farm and had huge gardens. My grandmother and mother and aunts canned anything that could, I suppose, be canned.

My family, on both sides, was close to the soil in many ways.

And I know absolutely zilch about it all!

I'm not sure if I just didn't pay attention or if people shielded it from me--like they shielded me from anything having to do with coal mining though my family weren't unfamiliar with the pits.

I'm going to have to ponder why I would have understood as much of what my three friends were talking about on Sunday if they had been speaking in Lithuanian.

As I sat there, I envied them: the things they knew that I don't and never will.

Humility, it seems to me, comes from 'not knowing'. And 'humility' is a good thing, much to be desired.

I got my plate full of humility listening to them talk.