Siobhan and I often roam about the countryside, searching for rare roots and wild herbs. On one such jaunt we came across an old farm wagon, sitting forlornly in an overgrown field. With baskets in hand, we wandered toward the wagon…
Lightly I touched the weathered wheels, the sun-bleached axles, the well-worn tongue. Beneath the aged grain, silken and grey, the old wood had remained strong and true. I thought of all the seasons that wagon must have seen —of all the trips to town it had made, hauling corn and wheat, straw and hay; of all the trips back home again, with flour and sugar, cornmeal and molasses…I thought of how the much-heralded tractor had come along, and changed life forever for the old wagon. No longer of use, it was abandoned and forgotten.
It saddened me to think of such a fine old wagon left to rot in a field. Siobhan felt compassion for the old wagon as well—perhaps we could use it to build our gypsy wagon… We inquired of the farmer, and he kindly agreed to sell it to us. What good fortune, to find such a treasure in the weeds! And now the old wagon will be useful again; we are pleased to give it a new life…
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