“The ultimate goal of farming is not the growing of crops, but the cultivation and perfection of human beings.”

Masanobu Fukuoka, The One-Straw Revolution

From the Archive...

Hubbs has been spending some time cleaning out his home office drawers.
Fully in the swing of retirement, he is purging that which he will never need again.
He came across a folder of things that I had written for him over the years,
and suggested that I publish one of them here... on the blog.
So, here goes...

We all have our favorite artists...
Monet, Degas, Cezzanne, and oh, so many more.
The artists that stir my soul are the Ancients.
They have taken the names Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.
The land is their canvas,
and their palettes are as varied as their natures.

Spring draws her foundation with detail and precision,
then paints with a delicate touch in pale shades of watercolor pastel.
In time, she fills every space with soft strokes of animation.

Summer steps in with her bold and brightly saturated oils,
adding depth and vibrance to Spring's sketch.
She paints with enthusiasm, adding color on color until
she has filled the entire canvas with rapturous intensity.

Autumn arrives, almost un-noticed, with a pencil box of yellow, reds, and browns.
He slowly scrapes away the colors left behind by summer
and in their place leaves his crunchy hues of earthy warmth.

Winter sketches with grubby...

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