The Farmer and His Fortunate Folly

The Farmer and His Fortunate Folly

There once was a Farmer who was as prideful as he was prudent and as clumsy as he was clever. He was known by his neighbors for his fair and shrewd business practices. From all he expected the same tireless work; of his neighbors, of his workers, and even of his fields.

This remained his pattern until one, ordinary fall day when he mortgaged his fields, his house and barn and made plans to rent out his fields for the season. His neighbors, also farmers met at the local tavern to exchange words on this peculiarity. “He has never so much as taken a loan all the years I have known him.” Said one “Nor his father before him” said another. “And what of this trip, he was very closed-mouthed about the destination, and purpose” chimed in a third. No logic or purpose could they discover in the Farmer’s cryptic words and deeds.

The season passed quickly, and the harvest planted, grew and was gathered in. Little thought was paid to the Farmer or his journey. The following spring, just as the land was being tilled once more to receive the next year’s seeds, the Farmer returned. Before returning to his own field he met with each of his neighbors, toured and complemented their fields, barns and holding. So rare was such a visit, especially from such a prideful man that again the farmer’s were abuzz with chatter. Some tried to feel slighted or insulted “Who does he think he is traipsing all around our lands as if he owned them all.” Ours saw it for what it was “Seldom does anyone but me and my workers see the land as it is, beautiful, harsh and generous, and he did just that, and for his visit I am thankful.”

The next day was a day the Farmer would not forget. He woke early ready to sow his fields. He put on his jacket and went to his satchel to retrieve the treasure his journey had yielded. A treasure which he had planned would allow him to own all the land around him, which he had so recently toured. And all his neighbors soon would be of his employ, the life of leisure was to be his fortune. No sooner had these thoughts warmed and clouded his mind then utter horror soon replaced it. His satchel holding the key to his riches had a small hole in the bottom, and the seeds which would have yielded twice the harvest in half the growing season were missing, his very life blood drained away. His loans would be due at the end of the season and he had nothing left to his name to sell that had not already been borrowed against.

That day he revisited all his neighbors with a hard and harsh humility which bore down upon his back as no weight had ever done. This day was to beg for seeds to plant, not hardly enough to repay the loans, but enough to live on his remaining months. Some of his neighbors still had hardened hearts from all the years of his shrewd business dealings with him. “I knew your visit of last eve was mere show to put me in frame of mind for this begging that you do now.” Others among his neighbors looked on him with pity “Here is all I can spare; I will only plant half my fields this season, for I cannot bear to see a neighbor starve while I eat well.” All his neighbors gave something no matter what their response in words. The Farmer planted all his fields and counted the days until his life was over.

Then something unexpected happened. That spring all the fields surrounding the Farmer grew twice as fast and twice the yield, regardless of the amount of seed planted. Even fields that had gone unsown yielded this same plant. And what is more, by the time the harvest had been gathered it the plants had re-sown themselves. Such was the joy that all the Farmer’s neighbors, now rich beyond their dreams paid the debt the Farmer owed. Only the Farmer himself understood his folly and the good that sprang from it. The rest of his days he lived a changed life, indebted to all and blessed by many.

14 minute story

There once was a man, few remember even fewer still now lament. In early life the hopes and dreams of the village rested upon his shoulders. He was to be their leader, once their father had gone the way of the ancients. He was as strong and wise as his father ever was, however he had one weakness, love.

Many were the days when he would steal away only to be found with a neighbors daughter in some secluded hay field. As he grew, so did his passions. And grow they did until a fateful day when out with his love of the moment they were to cross the rushing river for home before dark fell. Not one to ask for help, and more the one to give it he crossed upon an old tree who had fallen years before. Not to be bested his love clamored after, the tree creaked, and broke hurling her into the waters. In a moment she was sped from him and he could naught but look on in terror.

That was the day his love, both for women, and life were doused by the cold rushing waters.

Years past, and as he had grown in wisdom and strength when young, now he withered with each passing day, not content to work or play, to jest or study. He was a mighty tree with root rotten, a cask of the dream. To harden what was left of his heart further, many in the town took his current state as an affront to their future, their security. So the ridicule began to rot from outside, what the hole or grief ate away from within. This continued on until another fateful day when he vanished without word or trace. Some talk about caves in the local hills where a thing, hard to call a man, roams and roosts. Others speak of a mysterious bridge being build across the river, with no builder to be seen.