GFC

In the North I was born
On the cold south shores
Of Alaska’s springtime thaw.

In those cold blustery swells
The fisherman did haul
And it was boats is all I saw.

Then came a time
when the miners’ hauls
Was the black cold coal of night.

So to the valley we moved
Where the gardens did grow
And the crops put on their show.

I spent my days
In barefoot ways
Running through fertile soil.

I learned from there
The hardships fought
From sweat-breaking toil.

That it’s the cows you milk
And the crops you plant
That gives you winter’s plenty.

I went from hunting,
Fishing, gathering
To a different sort of ranting.

Of thinking about
Where a place to grow
A claim of earth is to find.

As the crowds rushed in
The cars screamed by
And the tractors were put in a bind.

We moved further north
To a place seldom thought
Of farming once again and fought.

To a place where the sun
Keeps you up 6 months
And the winter months take you down.

To a place where we pushed
Mother earth to expose
A new found place of ground.

A new sort of ground
A new type of seed
To gather, plant and sow.

Grasses, Grains, Food
Hogs, Cattle and Birds
All we tried in this with vain.

Till we end of now
On this earth we’ve plowed
Raising bison who tells us how.

Simply put
It’s the harvest that speaks
And tells us what to do.

It’s not the farmer
It’s not the rancher
Who demands respect and show.

It’s the earth that tells us
What it will offer
What it has for us to grow.

So for a girl from the shore,
From the depths of coal
A farmer/rancher is all I’m told.

Plants her feet in the ground
Smells the rain hit the earth
And feels the sun warm earth’s soul.

Life nearly complete
Will end someday
With grandchildren enjoying
their great farming and ranching day.

By Ruby Hollembaek  4/2009

Born in Seward, raised in Palmer and now in Delta.  From a coal
miner’s daughter, of mixed descent..English/Scot-Irish/Inupiat Eskimo
growing up from the 1950's to seeing the 50th Anniversary of Statehood.