Inside the orderly chaos of the old brick farm house’s entry, a box of black walnut shells waited further attention. A thick block of wood, a hammer, and a nut-pick sat next to a chair. I noted the gorgeous hues of brown on the broken shells and wondered how they might be used in a craft project. Ralph, the farm’s owner, came in and asked if we liked black walnuts. My husband told him they were his all-time favorite, but the work to get at the flavorful nut meat was brutal. “Naw,” said Ralph. “I’ll show you how I do it. It isn’t so bad.” What followed was a tutorial that kept my husband’s interest for the next fifteen minutes.
The following day as my husband and I drove home our conversation turned to Ralph and his sister Mary Ann. Ralph inherited the family farm years ago and has been working it in one manner or other ever since. Mary Ann moved in with him after retiring from her career life and was feeling at loose ends. Without giving away Mary Ann’s exact age, I’ll just say she is in the octogenarian range. Ralph is slightly behind her in years, but both look and act much younger. I swear they do more in one day than I do in a week. Mary Ann raises a large garden and puts up her produce by canning or freezing. She is a crafter in the finest sense with interests running from knitting to sewing to woodworking. The siblings suggest and argue over the daily crossword puzzle and both do a lot of reading. Ralph raises steers, but now rents out his barn and fields to local dairy farmers. He cuts wood and has a lumber mill for personal use. He hunts, fishes, and sets traps. He has bee hives. He built a greenhouse last year so he and Mary Ann could experiment with plants. I don’t think I’ve ever observed them at rest, doing nothing. If they are watching a bit of television in the evening, Mary Ann is knitting and Ralph is cracking those black walnuts.
As with many of their generation, they have a lot of wisdom rooted in common sense. My husband marveled at the simplicity of some of their ideas and suggestions as he took a tour of the farm buildings. The “why didn’t we ever think of that look” passed between us on more than one occasion during our visit. I believe the elder generation of farmers are keepers of the old ways…a gift that will be lost soon if we don’t take the time to listen to their stories and write down their methods. Every visit to their home inspires me with insights to authentic living.
For example, during a shared meal we were offered apple juice pressed right on the farm (it was exquisitely flavorful), tomato juice pressed from their tomatoes, a hot dish that included produce from their garden and grass-fed beef from Ralph’s young stock. Even the mushrooms in the casserole were found on the farm’s land and preserved. The dessert—a delicious pie—was speckled with those black walnuts grown in the backyard. These are people who live closely in tune with earth’s gifts and respond to the give and take dance of nature.
The good-byes were under way when Ralph offered my husband a jar of shelled black walnuts. “I know how much you like them,” he modestly said. “No, thank you,” said my husband. “But I’ll take some of those unshelled walnuts if you have any to spare. I want to try your method of cracking the shells. It will give me something to do with my hands while I watch television at night.” Meanwhile, Mary Ann gave me a hand knit winter headband and hand warmers. She also gave me a set of sewn fleece hand warmers, a sewn cosmetic pouch she’s experimenting with, and the recipe for her pie. We were rendered nearly speechless at the unexpected shower of gifts and could only respond with sincere hugs of gratitude. As we drove home the pail of walnuts rattled and shifted in the back of our vehicle. Each brown-hued nut a tangible reminder of old ways and generous hearts waiting to be enjoyed and savored.
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