To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
3 A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A few weeks ago, I lost a friend. Johnny Carter, farmer, pioneer of the North Texas Farm to Table movement lost his battle against lung cancer.
He was a good man. A grumpy man. A kind man. Generous, and cranky all in the same 30 minutes.
He had a raunchy sense of humor. He would make the produce cheaper for people that he knew needed a hand. He always made sure I was sent home with a “box of what I need.”
This week he has been on my mind- I’ve been pouring over my garden books, and starting to scratch out some basic plans for my spring vegetable garden. Twice I went to call him to ask questions. Twice I was reminded that my friend isn’t on the other end of the phone.
He had a sweet tooth unlike anything I’d seen. He’d devour a plate of chocolate chips faster than most.
He didn’t say a lot of words, but in the words spoken, volumes were said.
I miss my friend. I will miss working side by side with him at the Farmers Market. I will miss laughing when he would find the most obscene looking vegetables and make a “Kate” box with them.
Peace John Carter. Peace.