The Taylor Trust: Volume 4
By Jim Fuess
Volume 4 of The Taylor Trust is ready for your enjoyment at
http://issuu.com/the-taylor-trust/docs/ttt_volume_4
THE OLD MAN AND THE FARM
Will Johnson sat on his farmhouse porch. His heavy, white eyebrows narrowed above his gray eyes. The expression on his weather-beaten face was forlorn, making him look older than his seventy-five years. With a red handkerchief, he mopped the beads of sweat from his forehead. All summer he had waited and waited for rain — still no rain was in sight.
This was his life — the farm with its corn crop. It had been good to him. But this year, the land was parched from lack of rain. He’d never made much off the hundred acres he lived on, but it was his land; he was born here. He couldn’t remember a drought as bad as this one.
Will frowned as he stared at the small, red barn. His thoughts went out to Anna, his wife who had died here fifty years ago, giving birth to their only child. Their newborn boy died later that same summer. And now for half a century he lived alone. He communicated little with the outside world. Once every two weeks he would go into town with his old pickup truck for the usual supplies he needed — bread, canned goods, breakfast cereal, and a newspaper. The animals on the farm were few, four cows, a dozen hogs, and three dozen chickens.
Will stood, stretched his long arms, and walked to the back of the house. In all his years, he had never experienced a drought as bad as this. Never — never had the summer been this hot! He tried to remember when it had last rained. Was it six weeks or seven? He seated himself on the log fence and gazed at the three apple trees behind the dried-up brook. He thought about his long years on the farm and how he’d had to struggle to produce a corn crop. This summer, the work was wasted!
When the early evening chores were finished, Will sat down on the farmhouse porch steps. He pulled out the red handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to dry his sweaty forehead. He looked at the cornfield as the setting sun won another battle with his crop. Another hot day — with no rain!
Will heard the sound of a bird — a suffering bird. He stood, and walked toward the noise. And there, at his feet, was a young sparrow. Its one wing was broken. Carefully, with his big hands, he picked up the bird. He took it inside the house and placed it in a tomato box. He poured some breakfast cereal into the box. He watched the sparrow as it pecked at the food.
Outside on the porch, Will leaned against the railing, and he remembered how kind his Anna had been to animals. Once she had quoted something to him about birds. Something from the Bible. It had been a long time since he’d read the bible, or prayed.
He went inside the house. And in the bedroom, he opened the bottom dresser drawer. There in the corner of the drawer was Anna’s wedding dress. On the neatly folded dress was the Bible she used to read to him after the evening chores were done. He picked up the Bible and closed the drawer. He walked to the window and opened the Bible. He began to read: Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? (Matthew 6:26).
Outside on the porch, Will watched the rising moon. He thought about Anna and her deep faith in God. The rain would come. Of this he was sure.
Raymond John Flory has been writing and contributing inspirational works for many years. His poetry and prose have appeared frequently in The Christian Writer’s Pen, Cottage Connections, Conquistador, and Writer’s Gazette among many others. He has established an award program for fellow poets called The Explorer Award. Formerly a longtime publisher of a poetry and short prose periodical called Explorer Magazine, he lives and writes in South Bend, Indiana. See his poetry on page 50.
