"When I first encountered what was to become my farm
, I was out on a
Sunday afternoon ride with my friends Tyanne Jurka and Catherine Garza
McCardel. We had taken an afternoon to
go to Valle de Angeles and were wandering around the countryside , driving on dreadfully deeply rutted mud/clay roads
recently washed out from the forceful Honduran spring rains. After some quality “shop-til-you drop” time
in Valle de Angeles , the handicraft
packed tourist trap of Honduras , we decided to drive up the mountain and see what
was on top. I don’t think Tyanne , a former Pennsylvania
girl , who continues to live in Honduras and at that time had already lived in for
over ten years Honduras , ever had been to the
top of the mountain. We headed out , the oversized van creaking and the running boards
scrapping as we crossed the washed out ,
pothole after pothole , road. At
times we drove on the wrong side of the road as we searched for the smoothest
places winding up the steep mountain towards the top. The van wildly moved from
side to side , as we held on to the
grab bars on the ceiling. It was hard to
believe that we were barely crawling ,
yet the van jerked so wildly. Twenty
minutes later we arrived at the top. We took a right onto a small , smoother ,
dirt lane and then we saw it. The view!"
"It was breathtaking! It was incredible! It was pulchritudinous! It was a totally clear afternoon and we could see for miles and miles. The Valle de Cantaranas was below
the mountains in the distance , the
cabbage fields and corn fields on the sides of the mountains closest to the
left. Each distinct crop looking like a
different colored postage stamp ,
carefully pasted to the side of the pine tree covered mountain. A river snaked
its way through the cane fields ,
fifteen miles below us in the valley.
Not that we were fifteen miles high in altitude ,
we were at five thousand two hundred feet ,
but the river was below us , in the
valley and fifteen miles away from us. I
asked Tyanne to stop the car and we all stepped out into another world."
the smell of the air , was so fresh
and so crisp , so alive , so full of...
I savored the soft smell of pine trees as I took in deep breaths and
suddenly the smell brought back old ,
very kind memories of my grandparent’s homestead farm in .
How long had it been since I had smelled pine trees? Years Buckner , Arkansas ,
I think. What a wonderful smell. For a split second ,
I remembered grandpa Yancy. I remembered
the mornings that he would take me hunting when I was a small child. Grandpa Wallace set traps and every morning
he would go to check on the traps and see what was there. I remembered the soft ,
slightly damp smell of pine needles ,
as our feet crossed over them , while
we headed to check out the latest capture.
I remembered how when I was stung by a wasp one day as I was climbing
over a split rail fence with him at my side.
I quickly remembered that he took already chewed tobacco out of his
mouth and carefully placed the saliva filled glob of “chewin’ ta-back-er” on
the sting. I remembered the instant
relief as the moist tobacco touched where I had been stung. I remembered his love for me. I remembered as he scooped me up in his arms
and told me everything would be alright.
All of this I remembered in a split second. The memory passed too quickly to define the
exact length of time , but the
recollection of that the precious thought lingers on in my mind , imprinted like it was yesterday."
I fought for two years to purchase this property from a land owner who did not want to sell it but finally I wore him down. I am tenacious when I know I am right and have a purpose. This property has a purpose. I have planted hundreds of fruit trees on the property and now the fish pond which I have dreamed about as a ministry to feed the poor is coming into fruition.
The property currently has almond, lemon, lime, Japanese plum, peach, anona, avocado, pear, mango, Mandarin orange, guava and 6 varieties of banana trees.
Oscar my farm worker showing off some of the fruit producing trees.
Mandarin oranges fresh and organic.
Hundreds of bananas on hundreds of banana trees fill the farm.
Slowly but surely since I purchased the farm in 1994 it has began to produce more and more. The farm has had no chemicals used on it since 1994. So it is an organic farm.
Now it is time to get the tilapia fish pond finished and up and running.
The land had to be moved around and some hills cropped off and a valley filled in order to make this happen. The vision started years ago and now is almost complete. All we need is $2,500 to finish the job. The dam is built but we need cement, rebar, gravel and sand to finish the dam and we need baby fish to stock the pond and food to feed them. Soon we will be able to share the fish with local orphanages like we have shared the fruit with the poor. If you would like to help finish this project, please hit the donate button below. The pond will hold about 10,000 fish and will generate money and food for the ministry. I will be a fisher of men and a fisher woman...