The edges and depths of Parkplace farm were bordered with ditches that carried excess rain water from the grey clay ground. They divided the farm into a grid of fields, creating lines of microcosm attracting small flora & fauna seeking life-giving water. The adventure of ditches and what grew in them, were a magnet for Stevie & Kenny. While they waited for the school bus, after school, and every possible chance on the weekend they explored the ditches searching for frogs, the idea of fish, and the fear of snakes. In their angular quest the greatest retrievable treasure was old bottles – ancient repositories of healing tonic, soda, alcohol and medicines … and once, a 5 pack of skunky beer.
Every few years county workers would dredge the 6 foot deep ditches along the road to clear growth and allow for drainage and the boys’ Father would allow them the workers to pile up the dirt on the farm. This was how the great hill in the middle of the farm was formed. One year truckloads of dirt were piled on the old McGregor Farm – a farm adjoined to Parkplace Farm. Stevie and Kenny watched with excitement as the mounds piled up. The following Saturday after the chores were done, the brothers started the yellow front-end loader tractor and went to search for exposed bottles. With glee they split up, scanning the fresh dirt mounds.
Stevie & Kenny were 5 dirt mounds apart when Stevie found it – a bent bottle – a thick whiskey flask deformed from early glass production, stuck in the dirt. Like an ardent ‘Indiana Jones’ he excitedly dug in and withdrew the preserved specimen, fully intact.
Kenny had found something else, something indecipherable but of interest so when he heard the cry ‘ Hey, I found one’ he ignored the call, fixed on his quest.
Stevie, issuing the call ‘Hey, I found one’ lobbed the heavy bottle up in the air in Kenny’s direction so Kenny could peruse and enjoy.
Kenny heard a faint whistle as the bottle made its way to him, and when he looked up: WHAM! The bottle’s thick base hit him just above his right eye, knocking him to the ground, and slicing into his forehead.
Dazed and on the ground Kenny knew only one thing – one thing he had learned from a cartoon: a strike on the temple of the forehead caused death. What happened next came as the result of the magic that happens in adventurous young boys: Kenny ran – bleeding from the head toward the house, Stevie hopped on the tractor, chasing his bleeding brother – trying to give him a ride, the scoop of the tractor positioned as if he could catch his brother mid-run.
Blood flowing down his left cheek as he ran across the east pasture, Kenny realized: he must not yet be dead, but – unsure how much blood he had, kept going.
By the time Kenny was at the back door of their home, his brother, bottle in hand was behind him, looking white. Kenny sprinted into this kitchen, blood dripping – unsure what to do next to avert his death and met his sisters – who shrieked in shock. Their mother, well seasoned in childhood tragedy, quickly grabbed a cloth and said “Let’s go! gotta get some stiches” and into the town hospital they went. Kenny – with a thin smile on his whitish face, felt the early euphoria of a victory in a great adventure. Kenny & Stevie resumed their bottle hunting the very next week. They cleaned, laughed on, and prized the bottle.
That day Kenny learned: Keep Looking Up: the adventure is coming, hard & fast… don’t fret, you will survive.
Moral to the story: Even when worst fears arrive, faith is greater and momentum is vital. Life may feel as though it is running out – even down your face, but there is always hope which finds it’s foundation in true faith. True faith finds foundation in love.
Farming Faith 