The Three Farmers
Listen now, and I'll tell you of a valley — a good valley, with dark soil and soft hills, where three farmers lived as neighbors. They were close enough to see each other's smoke in the morning, close enough to hear each other's dogs at night.
The first was Jonas. Jonas planted wheat, Jonas harvested wheat, Jonas sold wheat. Every year the same, every year enough. Folks said of him, "Jonas will never surprise you, but Jonas will never fail you." And it was true.
The second was Elias. He worked as hard as Jonas, but his mind was restless. He liked to try things — sometimes clever, sometimes foolish. He once dug a pond that would not hold water, and the children laughed, calling it "Elias's puddle." But Elias only laughed too, for he knew another idea would come to him soon enough.
The third farmer was Miriam. Careful Miriam. She kept her rows straight, her ledgers neat, her eyes always watchful. She often told her children, "Farming is half luck, half learning. Don't confuse the two."
One spring, a merchant came down the valley road. He carried a pouch of seeds from the south.
"These are melons," he said. "Large and sweet, unlike anything you've tasted. But they are fussy things. They want more water, more tending. Some fields will take to them, some will not."
Jonas shook his head. "I know wheat. Wheat feeds my family. Wheat I will plant."
Elias clapped his hands. "Melons! I'll take some at once!" And he did.
Miriam did not rush. She asked questions: How deep? How thirsty? How long? Then she bought a few, enough for an experiment, no more.
The season went on as seasons do.
Jonas's wheat grew, green to gold, steady as ever.
Elias's melons wavered — some vines withered, some grew strong. He worried, he hauled water, he tried again.
Miriam's patch was small, but she tested soil against soil, mulch against mulch, noting each detail.
By summer's end, Elias had a basket of melons, green and gold and striped. Miriam had fewer, but sweet, for she had chosen the soil well. At market, the melons sold quickly, each one a small marvel. Jonas sold his wheat too — steady price, steady trade.
That evening, the three neighbors sat by the road as wagons passed.
Jonas said, "Bread for my table, grain for my barn. That is enough."
Elias said, laughing, "Twice the melons next year — why not?"
Miriam said little, but her eyes were thoughtful, and her ledger already waiting.
And so the valley had three farmers: Jonas, who kept to the known; Elias, who leapt at the new; and Miriam, who learned from both.
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"Wisdom begins with wonder." - Socrates
"Learning happens thru gentleness."
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