A Salute to the Farmers of Whatcom County

Mary Jane Fraser is living in Bellingham for the third time, drawn back by its natural beauty and community sensibilities. She buys locally and gives her full support to the Farmer’s Markets in the area. She is a consultant in arts education and also has several writing ventures underway.

I had never really had cause to drive to Sumas until I fell in love with a man who lives out there and consequently found myself driving the roads through the farmland north of Bellingham. I have enjoyed the white snow of winter and the burst of myriad greens as the trees across the side of Sumas Mountain welcomed spring.

But, nothing has been more beautiful or stunning than the fields of the farmers. I find myself grateful to those responsible for the splendor I see as I drive past watching as spring turns to summer, summer to autumn, the harvest, the steady steps to winter.

I have marveled at the tidy, tilled soil prepared for growing, the symmetrical, furrowed rows readied for the planting that would soon burst forth into an even dusting of green, growing into little seedlings that strive upward into tall stalks or leafed bushes. The rate at which they grew seemed the same from field to field as if there was a clockworks hidden somewhere at their edges setting a cadence for ripening.

Whether I cast my eyes near or far, beauty was abundant. Sometimes, I drove by as the irrigators sprayed their arcs of water casting prisms in the fading sky, lighting the dancing drops that lay on the leaves. The blossoms of the fruit trees also vied for my eye’s attention as a foreground to the white barns and tall silos. Here and there some talented gardener brought forth bursts of bright color in yards that rim the edge of the cornfields.

I considered the word heartland. I read a dictionary definition that said: “the part of a region considered essential to the viability and survival of the whole.” Indeed, what would we do without our farms? Heartland strikes me as the best word for the fields I have the opportunity to enjoy but also for the farmland located anywhere in America. I thought about how we do not take time to consider the work it takes to plant, grow, and harvest a crop whose yield we will later enjoy at our dinner tables.

I heard the sound of the heavy harvesting machinery driven late into the night by farmers working under bright, electric light and noted that between the beauty and the bounty of these farms lay hard labor and dedication long after the rest of us lay sleeping.

Then, after the corn fields were shorn of their corn, the wild geese and clamorous crows came to glean the leavings. The yellow kernels that fell to the ground during the harvest gave the geese fuel for their very long flight, a flight that heralds the turn to a new season.

So, I just want to say, and I am sure I speak for others, thank you farmers of Whatcom County for all of your work and the consequent beauty you create and inadvertently share with those of us lucky enough to drive by. I salute you. §