A chain of vignettes. |
and the threat of fickle weather hung on the farmer like the sword of Demosthenes.The long years that followed were wrought with John’s labor of love. He proved himself an astute farmer, who understood the soil. He tended his fields and farms as a father would, his progeny. He used to get the soil tested from time to time, and if there was a lack of any supplements, he would get them and replenish it. This, he said he would do after every harvest, which in turn paid off by yielding healthy crops. His will and destiny seemed to hang on together, and his efforts paid off every year. He would market two thirds of his produce and keep the rest for the family and staff. His field hands and headmen were happy that they were lucky enough to be employed by John Mackenzie, the owner of “Emerald farm.” He had to make certain sacrifices for fulfilling his duties. Any good work necessarily demanded certain sacrifices. He could no longer go on his hiking trips, mountain trekking or the occasional stag parties he loved to host in his farmhouse. Our trips to uncle John’s homestead were now few and far between, with our schooling and career building taking priority. Times change, and so do people. John, however, remained the same pleasant and sunny |