Stacey Harwood, one of our great volunteers has taken over as Volunteer Coordinator. Her passion and energy for Opal’s Farm is extraordinary. When Stacey first came out to the farm, she introduced herself and let me know right of the bat that she had no experience farming. It’s a couple of weeks later and she’s become quite the farmer! She’s organizing the volunteer day and getting busy. She wants to let everyone know that no experience is necessary – simply come, see, and enjoy!
Just a quick reminder that North Texas Giving Day Now is coming up Tuesday, May 5th. It’s a special North Texas Giving Day in conjunction with campaigns globally for Covid-19 relief. You can always donate via Facebook or our website, www.unityunlimited.org.
I try to write every day, whether I feel inspired or not. I’m told that such a practice will make me a better writer; that quality content will become more frequent. Lord knows I need that. Some nights though – after a long hard day at the farm – I come home, turn on the stereo (the computer actually), and sit down to do paperwork and answer emails. That’s not happening tonight though; the paperwork and emails I mean. Bonnie Raitt’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me”, The Beatles’ “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, and Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic” put an end to that. There’s nothing left to do but lean back, breath deeply, and enjoy the music.
I never fit in. It’s the oft told tale of being on the outside looking in. I’m not sure why really. I was blessed to have a great family. My sister and I are both adopted – wanted and loved dearly by the couple that became our parents. I didn’t come from a broken home. Mom and Dad celebrated fifty-three years of marriage before Dad passed. There’s no abuse that I know of; at least not physically or emotionally. Growing up in a fundamentalist Christian home I went to church three times a week, learned about a rather arbitrary God, and tried to live up to impossible standards of piety. That is spiritual abuse, but that’s another story…
The one vivid and undisputable memory was the music. It was always present. Saturday evenings were devoted to Lawrence Welk (my Dad’s favorite) and country music shows like “Live from Panther Hall” and Porter Waggoner (featuring a young Dolly Parton; my Mom’s favorite). Perry Como, Mitch Miller’s Sing-along, and Andy Williams filled the rest of the week.
My earliest and fondest memories were of singing in the car while on the way to South Texas to visit my uncle’s ranch each summer. My Dad would prop me up on his lap and let me take the steering wheel of our ’64 Oldsmobile 88 as we rocketed down the highway (there were no such things as seat belts and the car seat consisted of his arm across my chest when we had to come to a sudden stop…). Man, that car would fly. We would be running at ninety miles an hour and Dad would be singing all the way.
Dad had varied tastes. He’d belt out 1940s Big Band hits on minute, Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys, or bluegrass hymns the next. Many years later he told me that my Uncle Bynam, who was killed in World War Two, was the singer in his family. After hearing Dad, I respectfully disagree…
Melodies filled the car, the miles faded into the rearview mirror, and all was perfect in my little world. Dad’s lap, my driving (okay, steering – I couldn’t reach the pedals), and the songs made that Oldsmobile a piece of heaven on Earth. I can still hear him sing “I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck…” or “Mares eat oats and does eat oats…” some five decades later.
I outgrew Dad’s lap and at sixteen, found my own seat behind the wheel of a ’68 Chevy Impala Sport Coupe. Dad’s singing was replaced by an eight-track tape deck blasting everything from The Allman Brothers, Lynyrd Skynyrd and Steely Dan to Jackson Browne, Neil Young, and Cat Stevens. My tastes were as varied as Dad’s. My part-time job was next door to Independent Records (the Top 100 albums were on sale for 3.99!). When I got paid on Saturday mornings, I made haste to cash my check so I could buy new albums. My purchases were always dependent on whatever adolescent challenges I was facing that week. Some of you know what I mean…
The eight-track gave way to cassette tapes, CDs, and later to MP3s and streaming services. The ‘67 Chevy has been replaced by my old farm truck. I drive the speed limit most of the time. My feet have reached the pedals for fifty years or so. Every now and then you just have to crank it up to ninety, crank up, the stereo, and keep an eye out for State Troopers, even when you’re sitting at your desk…
The clouds grew dark and heavy this morning. Maybe the promised rain was coming after all. The weather folks said it would be here Thursday, moved it to Friday, and then assured us it was coming Saturday or maybe Sunday mid-morning – but hey, this is Texas. I’d about given up hope when I heard the distant roll of thunder. Maybe?
The short version is I didn’t get but a two-minute light sprinkle on the westside, but the farm was soaked by a fifteen-minute downpour. I won’t have another day of hand-watering ahead of me. Let me explain…
The drainplug on our pump shot out of my hand on Friday and rolled into the river rendering the pump useless until I can get the part Monday. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but we just planted three hundred new additional tomato and pepper plants; all of which need to be watered in. Saturday afternoon found me hauling water from the Trinity River up the levee (two five-gallon buckets at a time) and watering the plants one at a time. I’ll do what needs to be done but I’m especially grateful for the shower today…
Opal’s Farm was at the Cowtown Farmers Market for the first time this year. The forecasted rain stayed away and the sun made our first Saturday back even more spectacular. We had sugar snap carrots, and radishes available and were sold out by 1030 AM. We saw several old friends and met many more new ones. We’re always grateful for our regular customers. We missed you guys over the last three months. We’re also grateful to all the new folks we met Saturday and hope to see each of one of you every week. Better yet, come by the farm and give us a hand or take a tour.
The potatoes and onions love the rain
I need to give as shout out to our volunteers this week. We couldn’t have gone to market without your help. Our volunteers are amazing! The number of volunteer hours has skyrocketed in the last three weeks. I hope you can come out and join us!
Tomatoes, Jalapenos, and Anaheim Chili Peppers are in. We were able to get Spaghetti Squash and Cucumbers in as well. Everything else is going great guns and it looks to be an excellent Spring for Opal’s Farm.
Just a word to our friends and customers at Cowtown Farmers Market:
We want you to know how much you are appreciated. So many of you have wanted to support Opal’s vision. Every purchase you make and the donations you give bring fresh produce to the people who need it the most – neighborhoods that have been forgotten by the big grocery store chains, neighborhoods that suffer disproportionate health problems because their only food choices are highly processed canned and junk food full of empty calories. Your dollars not only provide you with the best in locally grown, nutritious fruits and vegetables, but your neighbors as well.
Thank you for being a part of Opal’s Farm! We love you all and hope to see you next week!
Good Morning Everyone! I am deeply honored to be nominated by my friend Jeff for the Mystery Blogger Award. I’m equally embarrassed by my slow response time. Spring is a busy time for our farm. I’ve failed to take time to write over the last couple of weeks!
I recently began to follow Jeff at http://www.jeffonamission.wordpress.com. His tagline – “Chef, Writer, Janitor” grabbed my attention right away. I love people who wear the hats of a servant…
What is the Mystery Blogger Award?
“Mystery Blogger Award” is an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve every recognition they get. This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging; and they do it with so much love and passion.
I get to do what I love every day! God asked (He’s always the gentleman) me to be a farmer and I said okay…
I’m “no good at being bad”, as my friend Jim would say. It only took me 48 years to figure that out…
I believe that grace and gratitude are as necessary as food and water.
Questions From Jeff:
What’s your favorite go-to Bible verse? – Geez, talk about a tough one. You don’t mess around do you Jeff? I’m not sure if I can name one. It seems to change on any given day. I guess the most frequent verse that comes up is Philippians 4. 11-13 from The Message version: “Actually I don’t have a sense of needing anything personally. I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether I’m full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am.”
Where did you grow up? – I was born in Fort Worth, TX. My Dad was transferred to Denver, CO when I was nine and I went to high school and university there. I returned to Fort Worth in 1986 and haven’t left since.
How long does it take you to compose a post? – It varies (wildly at times). It depends on whether it’s for a client or personal and how much research I need to do.
Would you consider guest-blogging if asked? – I would be honored to do so if asked.
If someone you love is dying and has yet to know Jesus, what’s your best one-liner to bring them to Christ? (Obviously this would be Spirit led, but just play along) – I sat and thought about this for a very long time. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d say. I’ve tried to imagine various scenarios and I come up empty. This is truly one of those questions I leave to a prompting of the Spirit. I’ve sat with several friends and family through the end of their lives. Each needing Jesus to be shown through different actions. I believe that at times like these, there are few words to say. One of my favorite quotes is from St. Francis of Assisi, “Preach everywhere. If necessary, use words”.
You all are amazing! I’m so happy to be a part of the WordPress community!
People don’t listen to Rock FM radio much these days. It’s become outdated by the plethora of streaming services, satellite radio, and internet radio. However, it wasn’t always that way. There was a day when FM was the Wild West of rock and roll radio. Casting aside the mono pop radio of the AM bandwidth, stations popped up across the FM dial. It was perfect for rock and roll – they refused to follow convention, shunned playlists, and introduced new artist regardless of their spot on the Billboard Top 100.
By the time I started high school in the early seventies much of rock FM radio was listed as Adult Oriented Rock (AOR) and had begun to develop playlists for said genre. Still, there were the musical rebels that played all the albums (yes Virginia, there is such a thing as vinyl recordings) and tracks not found on the AOR stations. They tended to be somewhat obscure – hidden on the dial by their limited range and smaller broadcast wattage. When I found one it was a true treasure. It’s where I discovered everything from Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention to Bob Marley or Jackson Browne. It’s also where I discovered John Prine.
I was driving down the highway in my ’67 Chevy Impala SS, listening to one of those maverick stations when I heard “Hello In There” for the first time. It was by this guy named John Prine and honestly, it brought tears to my eyes. If it could elicit that kind of emotional response, I had to check this guy out. I bought his debut album the next day. It started a relationship with his music that still goes on today and I still say “Hello In There”.
Fast forward to 2020 – FM radio is a stereo version of AM pop music and vile talk radio. What’s now considered “classic” rock is anything but classic. It was commercially successful among Baby Boomers back then and lacks any of the substance of FM radio’s glory days. The hidden treasures I once valued died an ignominious death at the hands of corporate media giants.
Sadly, not only is FM radio gone, but the world lost another treasure – John Prine. He died of complications from COVID-19 last Tuesday. I was in my truck on the way back from the farm when I heard the news. I still listen to FM radio, but I’ve traded the commercial crap for National Public Radio and some local Red Dirt radio (if I need to explain, you wouldn’t understand…).
I, like so many others, have spent the week listening to tributes, old interviews, and a constant stream of a lifetime of John Prine music. The songs took me back to the first time I heard “Illegal Smile” and knew exactly what he was talking about. That smile faded as I became older and began to identify with his classic “Sam Stone”. Originally titled “Great Society Conflict Veterans Blues” it became one of his greatest protest songs. For me, it became too real. “There’s a hole in Daddy’s arm where all the money goes…”
Thank you, John Prine, for a lifetime of sarcasm, wit, reality, and truth. That’s why he was inducted into the Songwriter’s Hall of Fame. That’s why he’s an American treasure. That’s why I miss him…
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