Farmers/gardeners love and appreciate beauty. They may not appreciate the beauty of modern art, or know famous painters, composers or wrestlers. But they know the sounds of the soaring birds. They are seldom too busy to gaze across the field at the wild roses coming into bloom; they notice how the trees blend together in a loveliness all their own. They appreciate the striking deer, the stripes of the racoon, a freshly plowed field, and a bubbling brook.

Farmers find time to plant and care for flowers. They love the smell of fresh-cut hay and the recently plowed earth. The morning air is a blessing all its own. Sometimes, gardeners’ overalls are dirty, but it is welcome dirt.

Farm folks love the sounds of crickets, frogs, the songs of the morning birds. They hear the gentle and sharp noises in the night; they understand them. They like the soft clumpy feeling of warm earth in their hands. They relish the feel of a smooth gourd or a satiny piece of wood. They love the taste of fresh farm food, ripe in season. With all of their senses, farmers are appreciative and discerning. They are highly attuned to the land and to nature—connected to the universe.

Have you ever pitied the farmer? —thinking he/she is uncultured, maybe a little “off?” Sometimes it just takes a little understanding, a little “walking in someone else’s shoes,” a little clearing of the lenses and finding a new perspective.

Working with the earth gives one a profound feeling of inner peace. Nothing in the garden is in a hurry. No rush toward accomplishment, no banging of the gong, no heralding to the news channels. In the garden is the great mystery of life and growth. Everything is changing, moving toward something, taking its time.

There is no competition, no criticism, and yet, in such a small space, there are so many divergent things looking and behaving so differently. Carrots and parsnips hide the most important parts of themselves underground. The cabbage is a big green ball, tomatoes develop smaller balls of red. Corn shoots high in the sky and grows cobs to eat. But no vegetable berates the other for being different, or doing its own thing. No organizations are formed to fight the other, no plant tells the others to go back where they came from; “live and let live” is the garden mantra. There is peace in the garden—peace and fruit.

Have you ever been alone, working quietly in the garden? Do you feel part of the living growing things? Does the warm earth invite you to dig in a little deeper and see what grows and moves under the dirt? You might find an earthworm, doing its job to keep the soil in good condition. As you contemplate his job, do you hope to be as useful as him?

As a gardener, it’s as if you are one with the earth—doing your small part, living peacefully like a beet or a pumpkin. Quietly taking care of your little patch of ground, living calmly with others who are doing their part. Doesn’t that sound nice? —to live in uncritical peace with others.

The passing wind in the garden seems to carry a message of harmony, quiet and unity to all living and growing things. The corn rustles its stalks, the beets wiggle their leaves and the tomato blushes with pleasure and gentle excitement—harvest is coming and the cycle of life will continue, with each living thing doing its part.

And that’s a very beautiful thing in this very beautiful life! We, too, can quietly do our thing, living in beautiful peace with others-appreciating the growth and harvest that we all bring to the table.