The Patience of the countryman is visible on his face. He sets his pace to the pace of nature, to the great rhythm of the seasons. He measures in cycles of darkness and of light. He does not complain because the time in which summer’s glory slumbers is so long in proportion to its flower and fruit. He is always conscious of the presence of the life whose beauty he sees so briefly.
He does not grudge that life his service, the monotony of its unvarying, exacting routine, the early rising, the manual labour, the ceaseless watching, the wrestle with the forces that seem stronger than man. Storm, drought, frost, blight, choking weeds. Stronger than man they may be, but he knows that they are not stronger than the life in all living.
Neither is he, who knows the earth, impatient of the winter. When day is short and dark, when night comes early and nature sleeps, he is content to sit by the fire in the long silent evenings and slumber too.
Lift up Your Hearts