Sunday, March 24, 2013

March 24, 2013 Fish, Fish and More Fish

In 1992 I saw a piece of property on a mountaintop and knew it was to be mine. I write the following (with the yellow background) about that property in a soon to be published book...

"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 Honduras for over ten years, 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 air, 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 Buckner, Arkansas.  How long had it been since I had smelled pine trees?  Years, 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."

"The temperature between Valle de Angeles, were we had been shopping below, and the temperature on top of this lovely mountaintop where I was standing, were worlds apart.  In the late afternoon breeze, I almost needed a sweater, but the temperature didn’t matter.  I was in another world oblivious to everything but the exquisite view surrounding me.  Suddenly I was startled, from somewhere behind me came a man that looked like a harmless older gentleman, but carrying a machete.  I was talking to Tyanne and Catherine when he snuck up on me from behind.  At that moment, I met for the first time one of my future neighbors, the man that I was to latter find out was actually a pedophile."  end of quote from book.

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...

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