my father a farmer essay

Földművelő volt az én apám (Hungarian)

I.     Fölművelő volt az én apám       Carrick határ szélén, Ó,     És körültekintőn nevelt azám,       Illendőn és rendjén, Ó;     Megparancsolta nékem férfiasan,       Ha negyed pennym sincs már, Ó;     Őszinte férfiszív híján-hasztalan,       alázat, egyetlen férfinek sem jár, Ó. II.     Aztán kinn a nagyvilágban       Menetirányom kerestem, Ó;     Gazdaggá válni nem akartam,       nagyság után meredtem, Ó:     Nem volt legrosszabb tálentumom       És műveltségem sem, Ó     Eldöntöttem, hogy megpróbálom       Rendbehozni helyzetem, Ó. III.     Sokféleképp és hiún kíséreltem,       Udvarolni szerencse kegyemnek, Ó;     Néhány rejtett ok mégis közbelépett       Csalódás lett jussa igyekezetemnek, Ó:     Néha ellenség szegte kedélyem,       Néha barátok által feledve, Ó,     És mikor delére hágott reményem,       Bakot lőttem tévesen meredve, Ó. IV.     Majd fájón zaklatva, és végül fáradtan,       Hiú szerencsétől kiábrándultan, Ó,     Terveim üres álomként hullni hagytam,       S ily következtetésre jutottam, Ó:     Múltam rossz volt, s a jövőm talány;       Jó vagy rossz, nevenincsen, Ó;     De jelen órán, hatalmam gyanánt       Ezen szórakozni igyekszem, Ó. V.     Nincs oltalom, remény sem kilátás,       Senki sem támogat engem, Ó;     Marad a gürcölés, verejték, vitázás,       És munka, mely eltart engem, Ó:     Szántás-vetés meg aratás-kaszálás,       Apám korán nevelt erre, Ó;     Azt mondta, hogy a kínlódó okítás,       szerencsém tüzét jelentette, Ó. VI.     Minden homályos, ismeretlen, rossz,       Egy élten át menetbe fogva, Ó,     Míg fáradt csontjaim hossz'       ringatom maradandó álomba, Ó.     Szaporodjon bú vagy fájdalom       Nincs hit, törődés, gond se bánt, Ó:     Ahogy lehet, úgy élem napom,       Mának élve a holnap gyanánt, Ó. VII.     Egyelőre vidáman és jól vagyok,       Mint uralkodó a palotában Ó,     A sors rosszallón üldöz és elfog,       Szokásos rosszindulatában, Ó:     Alkalmasint napi étkem csinálom,       Ámde tovább sosem győzöm, Ó;     A holnap kenyerét nem kívánom,       A jövendővel sem törődöm, Ó. VIII.     Ha néha-néha munkámnak hála       Egy kis pénzt keresek Ó,     Jő a sors váratlan balcsapása       S a hittől rendszerint elesek, Ó:     Balsors, hiba, vagy hanyagság által,       Vagy jóindulatú butasággal, Ó;     De bármi legyen, esküszöm vívva árral,       Megküzdöm melankóliámmal, Ó. IX.     Mind, kik vagyont és hatalmat követtek,       Szűnni nem akaró hévvel Ó,     S ebben minél jobban mámort kerestek,       Kilátástok annál távolabb lépdel, Ó:     Ha Potosí [1] minden gazdagságát,       Vagy népektől imádatot kaptok, Ó,     Egy vidám őszinte szívű pojácát       Nálatok még így is többre tartok, Ó.

[1] Cerro Rico, azaz a Gazdag-hegy története 1544-ben kezdődik, amikor egy inka pásztor egy elveszett lámát keresve megállt éjszakára a hegy lábánál és tüzet rakott. A tűz egyre csak nőtt, és olyan forró lett, hogy a tűz alatt a földből egy fényes csillogó anyag kezdett folyni. Azonnal tudta, hogy ezüstről van szó, ami a spanyol konkvisztádorok számára mindennél fontosabb volt. Miután ezt a spanyolok megtudták, rögtön a figyelmük középpontjába került az addig jelentéktelen hegy. 1545 áprilisában meg is alapították a hegy lábánál a Villa Imperial de Carlos V falut, a későbbi Potosí elődjét és megkezdődött a kitermelés. Az ezüsthegyben lévő mesés vagyon egyre többeket vonzott, így a több mint 200 ezer lakosúra duzzadt Potosí városa, amely hamarosan Amerika és a világ egyik legnagyobb városává nőtte ki magát. forrás és fotó: cruz.blog.hu, webnode.hu

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My Father Was A Farmer: A Ballad by Robert Burns: poem analysis

• robert-burns

This is an analysis of the poem My Father Was A Farmer: A Ballad that begins with:

MY father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O, And carefully he bred me in decency and order, O;... full text

More information about poems by Robert Burns

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Robert Burns

My father was a farmer, written in 1784.

My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border O And carefully he bred me in decency and order O He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing O For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding O Then out into the world my course I did determine. O Tho' to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming. O My talents they were not the worst; nor yet my education: O Resolv'd was I at least to try to mend my situation. O In many a way, and vain essay, I courted fortune's favour, O Some cause unseen, still stept between, and frustrate each endeavour; O Some times by foes I was o'erpower'd; sometimes by friends forsaken; O And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst mistaken. O Then sore harass'd, and tir'd at last, with fortune's vain delusion, O, I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion; O The past was bad, and the future hid, its good or ill untryd; O But the present hour was in my pow'r, and so I would enjoy it, O No help, nor hope, nor view had I; nor person to befriend me; O So I must toil, and sweat and moil, and labor to sustain me, O To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early, O For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for fortune fairly, O. Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro' life I'm doom'd to wander, O Till down my weary bones I lay in everlasting slumber; O No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow; O I live today as well's I may, regardless of tomorrow, O But chearful still, I am as well as a Monarch in a palace; O Tho' fortune's frown still hunts me down with all her wonted malice: O I make indeed, my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther; O But as daily bread is all I heed, I do not much regard her. O When sometimes by my labour I earn a little money, O Some unforeseen misfortune comes generally upon me; O Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, or my good-natur'd folly; O But come what will I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be melancholy, O All you who follow wealth and power with unremitting ardour, O The more in this you look for bliss, you leave your view the farther; O Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore you, O A cheerful honest-hearted clown I will prefer before you. O

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Home / Blog / Storytelling / Buhay Bukid: A Conversation with My Father on His Childhood Farm Adventures and Climate Change

Storytelling

September 7, 2023 By: Ramier Villarama

Buhay Bukid: A Conversation with My Father on His Childhood Farm Adventures and Climate Change

OPENING SUMMARY:

Upon the completion of writing my own climate story, I found a sudden interest in learning more about my father’s story. In an era where the effects of climate change are becoming increasingly evident, taking a step back to hear the experiences of others and reflect on the past becomes crucial. Made possible through my Talk Climate internship with Climate Generation, I was able to ask Ramil Villarama, whom I like to call “Dad,” a set of questions to understand his early years that were spent on a family farm. He shared his unique perspectives on how the environment he knew as a child has evolved, the lessons he learned from the land, and his thoughts on the urgent issue of climate change that affects us all today. As we delved into these cherished memories and insightful anecdotes, we uncovered not only the joys and challenges of growing up on a farm but also the stark contrasts between then and now in the context of climate change. Thank you for tuning in and enjoy the interview segment!

The below interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. To hear the full interview, click on the recording at the bottom of this post.

Ramier: Hello Dad!

Dad: Hey, how are you son?

Ramier: Good! This set of questions is the section about your farm childhood, then we’ll move on to one more focused on climate change, then one more focused on the future and future goals.

Dad: That sounds good, I like that!

Farm childhood

Ramier: Can you share your experiences of growing up on a family farm? 

Dad: I’m really happy that you are having interests as far as my childhood… growing up on a farm, it’s really a rewarding experience. I used to help my dad plant various vegetables like eggplants, tomatoes, corn, bitter gourd or we call it ampalaya in Tagalog, and of course, rice.  Apart from these vegetables, we would plant and grow melons and watermelons as well. I grew up and lived on the farm for almost 22 years. In terms of the farming practices, we relied on rains apart from irrigation in making sure everything got enough water. Given the nature of the plants that we grow and the type of the soil/land, we grew them alternately, which means some plants are best grown during wet or rainy season while others are in dry season. I also helped my dad raise cattles and carabaos… we would gather cow manure to be used as fertilizers as it actually helps improve the quality of the soil which is essential to growing healthy vegetables, plants, and fruits.  

Ramier: How did you learn life in a different way by living on a farm?

Dad: Living on a farm actually taught me to appreciate the simple things. It taught me the value of working hard, and to be humble, respectful, patient, and how to persevere. I really admired and respected my parents, particularly my dad, as he worked really hard to provide our daily needs, all coming from the farm. Helping my parents, particularly my dad, with the planting and nourishing of what we grew taught me responsibility and compassion at a young age. 

Ramier: I borrowed this next question from a book that also talked about someone’s experiences growing up on a family farm. How did you have to work with and not against nature to make sure the farm succeeded?

Dad: We would rely heavily on nature to make sure that the farm or the farming succeeds right. Rain is very vital and a significant source of water for healthy soil and to grow the plants. Occasionally we would rely on heavy rains because that’s really good for the plants. In the same manner, equally important was the heat of the sun, given that once you do the harvest, you need to dry the crops, especially rice, before it goes to milling. So nature plays an important role for the farm. We should take care of nature, our nature.

Ramier: That’s very interesting. In the book that I read, the author talked about all four seasons because he was from California, so it’s interesting to compare that to the Philippines where it is only a lot of heat and rain, not really a spring or winter season is very interesting.

Dad: That’s very true! In the Philippines, sometimes I would joke around because in terms of the weather or the temperature, it’s like hot or hotter, but during rainy season obviously there’s like rains and a lot of rains…you know, which as you can imagine, excessive rains don’t really help, cause it causes flooding.

Ramier: Can you explain more of the specific challenges you and your family faced due to the changing weather conditions?

Dad: An example would be when there’s drought and less rain, farmers or my dad would be heavily dependent on irrigation systems, which becomes costly because you would have to buy fuel or gas to power the pumps… so obviously that’s an extra expense, which affects the profitability of farming. Then, the quality of soil diminishes, which means you can’t really expect as good of a harvest.

Climate Change

Ramier: Cool! Let’s talk more specifically about climate change. How has climate change impacted your family farm over the years, and what are some specific changes you have observed? How has the climate in the Philippines changed, if so, since your childhood?

Dad:  Climate change definitely impacted our family farm over the years. It actually became harder for certain crops to grow due to shifts in weather patterns and we would look into growing different plants to cope. The climate in the Philippines became, I would say, unpredictable. Nowadays, I’ve seen it get worse because of industrialization, pollution, and people not being cognisant right… they don’t really, I would say for a lack of a better word, take care of nature. 

Ramier: Looking ahead, what do you envision for the future of farming, not only on your farm, but your region, considering the ongoing challenges of climate change? What role does the Philippine government play in supporting climate-resilient farming practices… are there any policy gaps that need to be addressed?

Dad: This is really a profound question. Farmers should have access to better farm irrigation systems. Farmers should be able to explore and plant different rice seed variants or rice varieties to help breed improved crops with higher resilience to climate change. In the absence of good rice variants, you can’t really expect a good harvest. The second question you asked about the Philippine government… obviously the government should play a vital role in supporting climate-resilient farming practices by building better irrigation systems. The Philippine government should also continue to educate its people regarding climate change as it truly impacts farming in the Philippines. As for the policy gaps that need to be addressed, the government should really enhance leadership and accountability through monitoring, evaluation, and review of climate change policies and activities. As you would know, the Philippines is like a major source of the global rice supply. There are a lot of farmers there, and it’s really important that the government do its part in making sure that farmers are able to navigate this ever-changing climate.

Ramier: Considering the challenges posed by climate change, do you have any advice or message for the younger generation growing up on family farms today?

Dad: I do, I sincerely do. As you know climate change poses a real threat to farmers around the world. Farming is highly dependent on good weather as it can really influence the harvest. In this regard, my pieces of advice that I’d give the younger generation are that they need to learn how to adapt and think outside of the box. Also, be more cognizant and assertive in understanding what truly causes climate change. The younger generations growing up on family farms need to be more informed. Climate change has been an ongoing issue and younger generations should be more keen in understanding the effects.

Ramier: What I got out of that was education is a big part, and as you mentioned, the government can play a big part in educating people, especially people who may not have the resources to learn about climate change. So to end this, I recently wrote my climate story and in it I wrote that I want to learn more about my identities, and one of them is my Filipino identity. I wanted to specifically learn your stories about growing up on the farm and that connection to climate change. So, my last question is, what were some stories your father told you about the farm when you were younger? 

Dad: I actually gravitate to this particular question. I really liked listening to my dad, and he always told me a lot of stories about our farm when I was younger. One story I will never forget is, he said I’d always tell him, hey can we pick up some tomatoes or watermelons. Dad would tell me, “Hey, you and I will go to our farm and he’d bring me to the actual field for me to see the size of the tomatoes and watermelons that we grow.” That’s how he told me the story because obviously I was a little young back then so I couldn’t really recall what happened. My dad told me that he’d say we’ll pick the ripe ones and we will eat them and share them with the entire family and friends. He would always remind me that in life you need to persevere in order to be successful regardless of whether I become a farmer or follow any other profession. He also reminded me to respect nature and everyone around me because again, nature is vital to farmers. And, while it was a lowkey life, I could always feel happiness or fully content because there’s food on the table. My dad was always able to provide food for us. I kind of get teary when we’re talking about the farm, my experiences, and the stories that my dad told. He’s been very passionate in regard to farming and he’s very responsible. Imagine, my parents’ main source of income back then was farming. They didn’t get higher education, but they were able to provide for their family and my dad was able to think outside of the box as well. He didn’t just rely on planting vegetables, he also took care of cattle. Even now we have cattle. It’s a cycle: you plant rice and then the hay, the hay then becomes food for the cattle. You can imagine, it’s like a homestead, everything’s there. Weather played a really important role in that, so again, we should respect nature and take care of Mother Earth. 

Ramier: One more thing, why do you think it’s important for you to share your own story and, like what we’re doing right now, talk about your life on the farm and be appreciative of that part of your life? Why do you think it’s important for me and my other siblings to visit the farm and experience the farm whenever we travel to the Philippines?

Dad: You actually hit the nail on the head when you say the word appreciate. Me sharing these stories with you all, for me, is very important to know your roots. There’s life out there, right. I mean you probably think it’s simple. In essence, it’s kind of lowkey, but very rewarding for you all to experience. Meaning living is simple in the Philippines and everything is provided by nature. When we have the opportunity to visit the farm, I like you all to kind of experience what I experienced because I do cherish that upbringing. For me, I would not be the person I am today without the experiences that taught me to be a better person. Living on a farm, I mean it was great. I encourage you, when we have the opportunity, to see and understand your roots as well.

Ramier: Wow, thank you dad!

Dad: I hope that answers all of your questions, but if you would like to have another conversation regarding me growing up on a farm, feel free to ask. I obviously love talking about my childhood living on a farm.

Ramier: Thank you!

Dad: You’re very welcome, anak!

Both my father and I witnessed the power of storytelling through our conversation about his childhood farm adventures and climate change. We invite you to listen to the full, uncut interview below—a treasure trove of insights that will incite your own passion for storytelling.

Listen to the Interview

Read the full, uncut transcript

Ramier Villarama (he/him) was born in the Philippines, but moved to New Jersey with his family at a young age. He is a current rising third-year student at Macalester College in St. Paul, MN. In addition to being a part of the Men’s Swimming and Diving team, he is a double major in Environmental Studies and Studio Art, with a minor in Asian Studies and a concentration in Food, Agriculture, and Society. He has been recently learning more about his Filipino culture and his relationship with nature, and has been connecting both with his art and the work that he creates.

storytelling youth

A Reflection of a Filipino Farmer

AD Alvarez is  a Filipino farmer who has ambition to give his life towards improving agriculture and restoring the true importance of farming in the Philippine society.  In this opinion essay, he explains the state of agriculture there. With his permission, his blog is shared below.

When I was a child I was so fascinated by the die cast matchbox toy cars I see from other kids.  I wanted to have one for my own but couldn’t since my parents cannot afford them.  What I end up doing is making wood blocks into imaginary cars.  Nowadays, matchboxes are quite affordable and is just a common toy.  But the lesson from these two toys can illustrate something about the state of Philippine agriculture.  While the toys in my childhood can bring the same pleasure into the imagination of child at play, the two toys remain to be different.  The matchbox toy car has almost real appearance of a car.  No matter who holds the matchbox, it will appear the same and effectively represent what it intends to represent.  But for the wooden block, only a child with the desire to imagine it to be a toy car, has the power to make it appear like a toy car.  For others, it is just a wooden block.  One is a real car model, the other is just a wooden block.

The story I shared above is what I can say how the Philippine agriculture is different from agriculture systems in other progressive countries like the US.  We may use the same terms in the two different countries.  We may have similar references.  But the Philippine agriculture is like the wooden block, it is just as real as how one would want to imagine it is, even if it is not.

In my limited observation as a farmer from the Philippines visiting fellow farmers in the US, I got to have an opportunity to glance at the agriculture systems that exist in both countries.  Having interactions with fellow farmers, I have noticed eventually that we may easily assume that we have the same thing: an agriculture wherein the basic idea is to produce food.  But, if you compare the two, agriculture can mean two different things and farming are two different ways.  Not the same. Almost similar purpose but still very different.  One is intentionally designed.  The other one carries an appearance of similarity but if you look closer the structure it easily turns into a “wooden block”.  Not even close to what agriculture is intended to be.  Only an appearance that can make sense to those who are using it.  Like a piece of wood to imagine as a toy car when it is not.  The Philippine agriculture is like an imaginary agriculture when it is not.

In the Philippines we say food is important, yet we do not protect the farmers and producers that are making them.  Our system is not balanced.  The system favors the traders and we leave our farmers to survive on their own.  In the words of one trader, “Let the market sort it out.”.

In the US, I have observed, they create the space for farmers to have a market. They harness the power of the law to give farmers the demand to produce, their financial ecosystem makes the farmers earn so they can plant again.  Simply put, they uphold the importance of farmers by showing it in all of their efforts of governance, banking, their education system, insurance laws, and even in their regard to the farmers as heroes next to soldiers.

In the Philippines, we have policies and laws that contradict the need to be efficient.  Capital access is  elusive because we have very poor agriculture insurance ecosystem.  We have reduced our landholdings that it does not make sense how a farmer can have a decent operation in such a small space.  And YET we still say we care for our farmers.  Too much talk about the poor and poverty from people who have no or too little understanding of what poverty means. 

In the US, they constantly find ways to make farming efficient, profitable and sustainable.  Because food is important.  Schools were established to have better agriculture and not just diploma mills.  Real talk.  Farmers are empowered by enriching their resources and giving them the tools that would make them better farmers.  Giving them the security that no matter what happens, they will be able to keep producing food that will feed their people.

In the Philippines, we have reduced our farmers to a place to harvest votes from instead of empowering them to be prosperous and independent people.  I think it would take time to fix the structural flaws in the Philippine Agriculture.  It has to be fixed.  But I also think, the current solution to keep the food security at an acceptable level lies in the private initiatives.

I can go on and on and write the heart-wrenching comparison why we have a very poor agriculture system in the Philippines.  But that is not me. Instead of avoiding the issue and poverty in agriculture, I have chosen to be a farmer.  A Filipino farmer who has this ambition to give my life towards improving agriculture and restoring the true importance of farming in the Philippine society.  I am tired and broke, but if the Lord would grant me more time in life, I will strive to keep fighting against this tide of apathy, senselessness, and manipulation. I will work to fix what is broken and help whenever I can.  I see a solution.  Many times it feels like I am on my own.  Praying desperately for God’s miracle that I can make a difference as a strive to fix a broken system, one cropping at a time. -AD Alvarez, a farmer in the Philippines and a member of the Global Farmer Network

Adriel Dave 'AD' Alvarez

Leave a reply cancel reply, one thought on “ a reflection of a filipino farmer ”.

Excellent article indeed. Thailand farmers are very much in the same position as Adriel Dave ‘AD’ Alvarez has described here. Since Adriel used America as example. it is only right for me to use American expression here too: Thai farmers always end up getting the shaft from the small but powerful ruling elites.

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My Farmer Father

Father poem, a girl writes a tribute to her father who is a farmer. it is more than a profession for him; it is a way of life..

This is the best poem I've ever laid eyes on! I, too, have a farmer father, and this poem fits him perfectly. Daddy told me once that he feels closest to God when he is in the fields. Thank,...

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Published by Family Friend Poems July 2006 with permission of the Author.

My father is a farmer. His heart is in the soil It's there he finds his solace, Among the grimy toil. He plants the seed in springtime, The corn, the beans, the hay. He prays that God would bless it. A harvest, Lord, I pray. He tills and cultivates it, Provides the most tender care. Believes that come October, He'll reap a harvest fair. Blue skies are his cathedral. A tractor, his altar of prayer. God meets him in the cornfields, They have communion there. My father is a farmer- That's all he'll ever be. The values that the land taught him, He handed down to me. I love my farmer father- I'm thankful that he's mine... I pray that God would bless him, Today and for all time.

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• 5 years ago

I love this poem. I used it at my father's funeral in 2013. I now share it with any farming friends in need of wonderful words. Still brings a lump to my throat when I read it. Thank you for the wonderful resource.

• 6 years ago

This is the best poem I've ever laid eyes on! I, too, have a farmer father, and this poem fits him perfectly. Daddy told me once that he feels closest to God when he is in the fields. Thank, Ms. Jasmine, for sharing your poem!

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Essay on Life of a Farmer

Students are often asked to write an essay on Life of a Farmer in their schools and colleges. And if you’re also looking for the same, we have created 100-word, 250-word, and 500-word essays on the topic.

Let’s take a look…

100 Words Essay on Life of a Farmer

Introduction.

Farmers are the backbone of our society. They work tirelessly to provide us with food and other agricultural products.

Daily Routine

A farmer’s day begins early. They feed their animals, tend to crops, and perform other tasks. Despite the hard work, it’s a life close to nature.

Farmers face many challenges. Unpredictable weather, pests, and market fluctuations can make their work difficult.

Despite the hardships, farmers continue their important work. They are truly unsung heroes, providing for us every day.

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250 Words Essay on Life of a Farmer

The quintessential life of a farmer.

Farmers, the backbone of our society, lead a life that is a blend of struggles, perseverance, and satisfaction. They are the primary source of the food we consume, thus playing a pivotal role in sustaining life on Earth.

Day-to-Day Activities

A farmer’s life begins at dawn and extends till dusk, filled with strenuous labor. Their routine includes tasks like plowing, sowing, watering, and harvesting, which demand physical strength and resilience. Their life is deeply entwined with the seasons, with each bringing a unique set of challenges and rewards.

Challenges and Hardships

Farmers face numerous challenges, including unpredictable weather patterns, pests, and diseases that can devastate crops. The fluctuation in market prices and the burden of loans add to their hardships. Despite these challenges, they persevere, driven by the hope of a fruitful harvest.

Technological Impact

Technological advancements have begun to ease some of the burdens of farming. Innovations in machinery, irrigation, and crop science have increased efficiency and yield, yet they also demand new learning and adaptation from farmers.

Satisfaction and Fulfillment

Despite the hardships, farming offers a sense of fulfillment unmatched by many professions. The joy of nurturing life from a tiny seed, the satisfaction of a successful harvest, and the pride in providing sustenance for millions bring happiness and contentment.

500 Words Essay on Life of a Farmer

The life of a farmer is both fascinating and challenging, a testament to human resilience and the intimate relationship between humans and nature. Their existence is not just about sowing and reaping; it’s a complex interplay of weather, soil, seeds, and labor, all orchestrated in the symphony of life.

The Daily Life of a Farmer

A farmer’s day begins with the sunrise. After a quick breakfast, they head out into the fields, armed with tools and a determination to coax life from the earth. Their tasks vary with the seasons: plowing, sowing, watering, weeding, and harvesting. Each season brings its own challenges and rewards, and the farmer adapts to them with a grace born of necessity.

The Cycle of Seasons

The cycle of seasons dictates a farmer’s life. Spring is a time of hope and hard work as the fields are prepared and seeds sown. Summer is a period of growth and vigilance, keeping pests and weeds at bay. Autumn brings the reward of the harvest, but also the pressure to gather the crops before the weather turns. Winter is a time of rest and planning for the next year. The farmer’s life is a continuous loop of preparation, action, and reflection.

The Challenges

Farmers face numerous challenges. Climate change, with its unpredictable weather patterns, poses a significant risk. Droughts, floods, and storms can destroy crops, leading to financial loss. Market fluctuations add another layer of uncertainty, as the price of crops can vary greatly from year to year. Farmers also grapple with the physical toll of their work, as farming is labor-intensive and can lead to various health issues.

The Rewards

Despite the challenges, there are many rewards in a farmer’s life. There is a deep satisfaction in working with the land and seeing the fruits of one’s labor. Farmers contribute significantly to society, providing the food that sustains us. They also play a crucial role in maintaining biodiversity and the health of our ecosystems. Their knowledge and skills, honed over generations, are invaluable repositories of wisdom about the natural world.

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A letter to my dad, the farmer, being the daughter of a farmer has given me a better understanding of the world and makes me really appreciate the time with my family..

Growing up being the farmer’s daughter has been very interesting. It has made life challenging, fun and sometimes lonely. Being your daughter has helped me grow as a person and have a whole new respect for all the farmers that most people just don’t pay attention to. It takes a special person to be a farmer, and even more special people to be the farmer’s family. Farming families lives are definitely not easy, but I would never trade the way I grew up for anything. You taught me how lucky I am to have grown up in a farming community, with a great Farmer Dad.

Sometimes it was hard to not have you around during the spring and fall, but that meant that anything you came to meant so much more to me. I know you are sad that you couldn’t make it to all of my softball or soccer games, but each time you did come, you made me feel so special. It made me realize how important I am to you.

Bringing meals to you during planting and harvesting was always so fun for me, being able to ride in the tractor or combine and spend more time with you. Meeting people from different backgrounds made me realize that maybe taking a ride on a tractor is a big deal, and I’m lucky to have been able to do it all the time. Plus, bringing you food most of the time meant we got McDonald’s or Subway, which was always a treat. I miss the days of just sitting in the combine with you or stealing your fries while you sit eating in the car with us once in a while.

Even though the smell of manure makes me cringe, I got pretty used to it. I could sometimes even tolerate giving you a hug while you were at work! It’s a good thing I never had to do your laundry because I probably wouldn’t be able to stomach it. But coming home and being around the smells, I realize that I kind of miss the smell of home. It might sound weird that I miss the smell of manure, but that means that I’m home and close to you and Mom. I’m not saying this to give you an excuse not to shower as often -- please do. I’m just saying thank you for giving me a strong nose.

I have always had a love for animals, so having you and Mom to encourage it was incredible. Thank you for bringing me to the turkey and pig barns to see the cute little animals, especially the baby ones. Every time I see anything about pigs or turkeys I think about you, just like when I bought those plastic pig noses for you. As a kid, Trevor and I had so many farming and animal related toys. Finding all those toy tractors, or all those little animal things, I loved trying to be a part of what you did.

Every time I pass a field of corn or soybeans, I think about you and how I grew up visiting you at fields just like that. I can even tell apart some of the different crops. My farming vocabulary is pretty good compared to a lot of other people. I also realize how important every little aspect of it is. The weather, bugs, a different type of seed or variety of plant -- all of those play a part of a much bigger operation. I understand how important the value of corn can be and how rain can be a great thing or a bad thing. I have a much bigger understanding of the world because of the way you and Mom raised me.

I’m proud to have a farmer dad. Although there were some struggles, I would never trade the way I grew up. Being your daughter has given me a better understanding of the world and makes me really appreciate the time with my family. You have worked so hard, and I appreciate everything you have done for me. I love you , Dad!

The farmer’s daughter, Caitlin

P.S. When I come home soon, can we go for a ride in the combine?

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25 beatles lyrics: your go-to guide for every situation, the best lines from the fab four.

For as long as I can remember, I have been listening to The Beatles. Every year, my mom would appropriately blast “Birthday” on anyone’s birthday. I knew all of the words to “Back In The U.S.S.R” by the time I was 5 (Even though I had no idea what or where the U.S.S.R was). I grew up with John, Paul, George, and Ringo instead Justin, JC, Joey, Chris and Lance (I had to google N*SYNC to remember their names). The highlight of my short life was Paul McCartney in concert twice. I’m not someone to “fangirl” but those days I fangirled hard. The music of The Beatles has gotten me through everything. Their songs have brought me more joy, peace, and comfort. I can listen to them in any situation and find what I need. Here are the best lyrics from The Beatles for every and any occasion.

And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make

The End- Abbey Road, 1969

The sun is up, the sky is blue, it's beautiful and so are you

Dear Prudence- The White Album, 1968

Love is old, love is new, love is all, love is you

Because- Abbey Road, 1969

There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be

All You Need Is Love, 1967

Life is very short, and there's no time for fussing and fighting, my friend

We Can Work It Out- Rubber Soul, 1965

He say, "I know you, you know me", One thing I can tell you is you got to be free

Come Together- Abbey Road, 1969

Oh please, say to me, You'll let me be your man. And please say to me, You'll let me hold your hand

I Wanna Hold Your Hand- Meet The Beatles!, 1964

It was twenty years ago today, Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play. They've been going in and out of style, but they're guaranteed to raise a smile

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band-1967

Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see

Strawberry Fields Forever- Magical Mystery Tour, 1967

Can you hear me? When it rains and shine, it's just a state of mind

Rain- Paperback Writer "B" side, 1966

Little darling, it's been long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it' s been here. Here comes the sun, Here comes the sun, and I say it's alright

Here Comes The Sun- Abbey Road, 1969

We danced through the night and we held each other tight, and before too long I fell in love with her. Now, I'll never dance with another when I saw her standing there

Saw Her Standing There- Please Please Me, 1963

I love you, I love you, I love you, that's all I want to say

Michelle- Rubber Soul, 1965

You say you want a revolution. Well you know, we all want to change the world

Revolution- The Beatles, 1968

All the lonely people, where do they all come from. All the lonely people, where do they all belong

Eleanor Rigby- Revolver, 1966

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends

With A Little Help From My Friends- Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, 1967

Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better

Hey Jude, 1968

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday

Yesterday- Help!, 1965

And when the brokenhearted people, living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be.

Let It Be- Let It Be, 1970

And anytime you feel the pain, Hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders

I'll give you all i got to give if you say you'll love me too. i may not have a lot to give but what i got i'll give to you. i don't care too much for money. money can't buy me love.

Can't Buy Me Love- A Hard Day's Night, 1964

All you need is love, love is all you need

All You Need Is Love- Magical Mystery Tour, 1967

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird- The White Album, 1968

Though I know I'll never lose affection, for people and things that went before. I know I'll often stop and think about them. In my life, I love you more

In My Life- Rubber Soul, 1965

While these are my 25 favorites, there are quite literally 1000s that could have been included. The Beatles' body of work is massive and there is something for everyone. If you have been living under a rock and haven't discovered the Fab Four, you have to get musically educated. Stream them on Spotify, find them on iTunes or even buy a CD or record (Yes, those still exist!). I would suggest starting with 1, which is a collection of most of their #1 songs, or the 1968 White Album. Give them chance and you'll never look back.

14 Invisible Activities: Unleash Your Inner Ghost!

Obviously the best superpower..

The best superpower ever? Being invisible of course. Imagine just being able to go from seen to unseen on a dime. Who wouldn't want to have the opportunity to be invisible? Superman and Batman have nothing on being invisible with their superhero abilities. Here are some things that you could do while being invisible, because being invisible can benefit your social life too.

1. "Haunt" your friends.

Follow them into their house and cause a ruckus.

2. Sneak into movie theaters.

Going to the cinema alone is good for your mental health , says science

Considering that the monthly cost of subscribing to a media-streaming service like Netflix is oft...

Free movies...what else to I have to say?

3. Sneak into the pantry and grab a snack without judgment.

Late night snacks all you want? Duh.

4. Reenact "Hollow Man" and play Kevin Bacon.

America's favorite son? And feel what it's like to be in a MTV Movie Award nominated film? Sign me up.

5. Wear a mask and pretend to be a floating head.

Just another way to spook your friends in case you wanted to.

6. Hold objects so they'll "float."

"Oh no! A floating jar of peanut butter."

7. Win every game of hide-and-seek.

Just stand out in the open and you'll win.

8. Eat some food as people will watch it disappear.

Even everyday activities can be funny.

9. Go around pantsing your friends.

Even pranks can be done; not everything can be good.

10. Not have perfect attendance.

You'll say here, but they won't see you...

11. Avoid anyone you don't want to see.

Whether it's an ex or someone you hate, just use your invisibility to slip out of the situation.

12. Avoid responsibilities.

Chores? Invisible. People asking about social life? Invisible. Family being rude? Boom, invisible.

13. Be an expert on ding-dong-ditch.

Never get caught and have the adrenaline rush? I'm down.

14. Brag about being invisible.

Be the envy of the town.

But don't, I repeat, don't go in a locker room. Don't be a pervert with your power. No one likes a Peeping Tom.

Good luck, folks.

19 Lessons I'll Never Forget from Growing Up In a Small Town

There have been many lessons learned..

Small towns certainly have their pros and cons. Many people who grow up in small towns find themselves counting the days until they get to escape their roots and plant new ones in bigger, "better" places. And that's fine. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought those same thoughts before too. We all have, but they say it's important to remember where you came from. When I think about where I come from, I can't help having an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for my roots. Being from a small town has taught me so many important lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

1. The importance of traditions.

Sometimes traditions seem like a silly thing, but the fact of it is that it's part of who you are. You grew up this way and, more than likely, so did your parents. It is something that is part of your family history and that is more important than anything.

2. How to be thankful for family and friends.

No matter how many times they get on your nerves or make you mad, they are the ones who will always be there and you should never take that for granted.

3. How to give back.

When tragedy strikes in a small town, everyone feels obligated to help out because, whether directly or indirectly, it affects you too. It is easy in a bigger city to be able to disconnect from certain problems. But in a small town those problems affect everyone.

4. What the word "community" really means.

Along the same lines as #3, everyone is always ready and willing to lend a helping hand when you need one in a small town and to me that is the true meaning of community. It's working together to build a better atmosphere, being there to raise each other up, build each other up, and pick each other up when someone is in need. A small town community is full of endless support whether it be after a tragedy or at a hometown sports game. Everyone shows up to show their support.

5. That it isn't about the destination, but the journey.

People say this to others all the time, but it takes on a whole new meaning in a small town. It is true that life is about the journey, but when you're from a small town, you know it's about the journey because the journey probably takes longer than you spend at the destination. Everything is so far away that it is totally normal to spend a couple hours in the car on your way to some form of entertainment. And most of the time, you're gonna have as many, if not more, memories and laughs on the journey than at the destination.

6. The consequences of making bad choices.

Word travels fast in a small town, so don't think you're gonna get away with anything. In fact, your parents probably know what you did before you even have a chance to get home and tell them. And forget about being scared of what your teacher, principle, or other authority figure is going to do, you're more afraid of what your parents are gonna do when you get home.

7. To trust people, until you have a reason not to.

Everyone deserves a chance. Most people don't have ill-intentions and you can't live your life guarding against every one else just because a few people in your life have betrayed your trust.

8. To be welcoming and accepting of everyone.

While small towns are not always extremely diverse, they do contain people with a lot of different stories, struggle, and backgrounds. In a small town, it is pretty hard to exclude anyone because of who they are or what they come from because there aren't many people to choose from. A small town teaches you that just because someone isn't the same as you, doesn't mean you can't be great friends.

9. How to be my own, individual person.

In a small town, you learn that it's okay to be who you are and do your own thing. You learn that confidence isn't how beautiful you are or how much money you have, it's who you are on the inside.

10. How to work for what I want.

Nothing comes easy in life. They always say "gardens don't grow overnight" and if you're from a small town you know this both figuratively and literally. You certainly know gardens don't grow overnight because you've worked in a garden or two. But you also know that to get to the place you want to be in life it takes work and effort. It doesn't just happen because you want it to.

11. How to be great at giving directions.

If you're from a small town, you know that you will probably only meet a handful of people in your life who ACTUALLY know where your town is. And forget about the people who accidentally enter into your town because of google maps. You've gotten really good at giving them directions right back to the interstate.

12. How to be humble .

My small town has definitely taught me how to be humble. It isn't always about you, and anyone who grows up in a small town knows that. Everyone gets their moment in the spotlight, and since there's so few of us, we're probably best friends with everyone so we are as excited when they get their moment of fame as we are when we get ours.

13. To be well-rounded.

Going to a small town high school definitely made me well-rounded. There isn't enough kids in the school to fill up all the clubs and sports teams individually so be ready to be a part of them all.

14. How to be great at conflict resolution.

In a small town, good luck holding a grudge. In a bigger city you can just avoid a person you don't like or who you've had problems with. But not in a small town. You better resolve the issue fast because you're bound to see them at least 5 times a week.

15. The beauty of getting outside and exploring.

One of my favorite things about growing up in a rural area was being able to go outside and go exploring and not have to worry about being in danger. There is nothing more exciting then finding a new place somewhere in town or in the woods and just spending time there enjoying the natural beauty around you.

16. To be prepared for anything.

You never know what may happen. If you get a flat tire, you better know how to change it yourself because you never know if you will be able to get ahold of someone else to come fix it. Mechanics might be too busy , or more than likely you won't even have enough cell service to call one.

17. That you don't always have to do it alone.

It's okay to ask for help. One thing I realized when I moved away from my town for college, was how much my town has taught me that I could ask for help is I needed it. I got into a couple situations outside of my town where I couldn't find anyone to help me and found myself thinking, if I was in my town there would be tons of people ready to help me. And even though I couldn't find anyone to help, you better believe I wasn't afraid to ask.

18. How to be creative.

When you're at least an hour away from normal forms of entertainment such as movie theaters and malls, you learn to get real creative in entertaining yourself. Whether it be a night looking at the stars in the bed of a pickup truck or having a movie marathon in a blanket fort at home, you know how to make your own good time.

19. To brush off gossip.

It's all about knowing the person you are and not letting others influence your opinion of yourself. In small towns, there is plenty of gossip. But as long as you know who you really are, it will always blow over.

Grateful Beyond Words: A Letter to My Inspiration

I have never been so thankful to know you..

I can't say "thank you" enough to express how grateful I am for you coming into my life. You have made such a huge impact on my life. I would not be the person I am today without you and I know that you will keep inspiring me to become an even better version of myself.

You have taught me that you don't always have to strong. You are allowed to break down as long as you pick yourself back up and keep moving forward. When life had you at your worst moments, you allowed your friends to be there for you and to help you. You let them in and they helped pick you up. Even in your darkest hour you showed so much strength. I know that you don't believe in yourself as much as you should but you are unbelievably strong and capable of anything you set your mind to.

Your passion to make a difference in the world is unbelievable. You put your heart and soul into your endeavors and surpass any personal goal you could have set. Watching you do what you love and watching you make a difference in the lives of others is an incredible experience. The way your face lights up when you finally realize what you have accomplished is breathtaking and I hope that one day I can have just as much passion you have.

SEE MORE: A Letter To My Best Friend On Her Birthday

The love you have for your family is outstanding. Watching you interact with loved ones just makes me smile . You are so comfortable and you are yourself. I see the way you smile when you are around family and I wish I could see you smile like this everyday. You love with all your heart and this quality is something I wished I possessed.

You inspire me to be the best version of myself. I look up to you. I feel that more people should strive to have the strength and passion that you exemplify in everyday life.You may be stubborn at points but when you really need help you let others in, which shows strength in itself. I have never been more proud to know someone and to call someone my role model. You have taught me so many things and I want to thank you. Thank you for inspiring me in life. Thank you for making me want to be a better person.

Waitlisted for a College Class? Here's What to Do!

Dealing with the inevitable realities of college life..

Course registration at college can be a big hassle and is almost never talked about. Classes you want to take fill up before you get a chance to register. You might change your mind about a class you want to take and must struggle to find another class to fit in the same time period. You also have to make sure no classes clash by time. Like I said, it's a big hassle.

This semester, I was waitlisted for two classes. Most people in this situation, especially first years, freak out because they don't know what to do. Here is what you should do when this happens.

Don't freak out

This is a rule you should continue to follow no matter what you do in life, but is especially helpful in this situation.

Email the professor

Around this time, professors are getting flooded with requests from students wanting to get into full classes. This doesn't mean you shouldn't burden them with your email; it means they are expecting interested students to email them. Send a short, concise message telling them that you are interested in the class and ask if there would be any chance for you to get in.

Attend the first class

Often, the advice professors will give you when they reply to your email is to attend the first class. The first class isn't the most important class in terms of what will be taught. However, attending the first class means you are serious about taking the course and aren't going to give up on it.

Keep attending class

Every student is in the same position as you are. They registered for more classes than they want to take and are "shopping." For the first couple of weeks, you can drop or add classes as you please, which means that classes that were once full will have spaces. If you keep attending class and keep up with assignments, odds are that you will have priority. Professors give preference to people who need the class for a major and then from higher to lower class year (senior to freshman).

Have a backup plan

For two weeks, or until I find out whether I get into my waitlisted class, I will be attending more than the usual number of classes. This is so that if I don't get into my waitlisted class, I won't have a credit shortage and I won't have to fall back in my backup class. Chances are that enough people will drop the class, especially if it is very difficult like computer science, and you will have a chance. In popular classes like art and psychology, odds are you probably won't get in, so prepare for that.

Remember that everything works out at the end

Life is full of surprises. So what if you didn't get into the class you wanted? Your life obviously has something else in store for you. It's your job to make sure you make the best out of what you have.

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My Role Model is My Father Essay

The importance of the word ‘Father’ and its general worth towards family is limitless. This word generates honor because of symbol good deeds which every head of the family tries to earn.

My father is the guiding force and leader of our family, bringing our aspirations into reality. He is not just a figurehead, but a role model who foresees the needs of the time and shapes our family through his unwavering responsibility and dedication. I hold immense respect for him due to his extraordinary achievements.

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As my role model, my father accompanies me in all my endeavors, ensuring that I make the right choices. He attentively listens to my problems and imparts valuable lessons to shape my thinking. His primary concern is my future career, and he leverages his maturity, knowledge, and awareness of the modern world to evaluate my interests and decisions, going above and beyond to help me develop and achieve my goals.

Despite his financial limitations, my father fulfills my genuine needs and ensures that I never feel inadequate. He works tirelessly, sweating profusely, to increase his earnings for my sake. He sacrifices his own comfort, willingly eating less, in order to provide for my well-being.

Being educated and possessing a logical vision, my father has evolved into a contemporary and progressive figure. He utilizes his knowledge and embraces modernity to raise me in a manner that equips me to thrive in today’s competitive world. He leaves no gaps in meeting my needs and actively supports my personal growth and career-building process.

As an ideal father, my father spares no effort in fulfilling my necessities. He strives to eliminate any obstacles that could hinder my development and career path, leaving no room for shortcomings.

What sets my role model father apart is his refusal to impose his own career choices on me. He believes that I should pursue a future based on my own passions, suitability, and capabilities. The tradition of following specific family professions is fading away, as doctors no longer insist on their children becoming doctors, professors do not compel their offspring to pursue academia, and army officers do not force their sons into the military. Similarly, my father desires that I have a better future according to my own choices.

My father is a mature and understanding individual who assists me in making important decisions. Like most devoted fathers, he plays a significant role in my life, supporting my career aspirations and helping me overcome daily challenges. When I face difficulties and seek guidance, I instinctively turn to my father. He selflessly puts aside his own priorities to provide the necessary support. He works tirelessly, making countless sacrifices to help me navigate through my problems.

We celebrate Father’s Day every year on 19 June to strengthen the relationship and remind a father of the sacrifices he endured towards his kids when they were in need. Unfortunately, it has become a mere formality for many, lacking genuine emotional connection and appreciation. In today’s times, children often choose to live separately from their fathers, prioritizing their own families and disregarding their responsibilities towards their aging fathers, who cling to hope for support.

It is very important that our fathers should be given deep respect and utmost respect not only because they are fathers, but for their unparalleled fatherhood and incredible sacrifices towards us. We must recognize the value of their presence and the impact they have on our lives. By cherishing our fathers, upholding our duties, and expressing gratitude for their sacrifices, we can truly acknowledge the exceptional role models they are in our lives.

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Farmer Essay | The Life of a Farmer Essay & Paragraphs

Here are a dozen of essays and paragraphs of various lengths on “ A Farmer ” and “ The Life of a Farmer “. In these essays, the life of a farmer and his joys and sorrows are depicted in simple words. We think that these will be useful for different classes of students in the school. Some paragraphs begin with indicative questions and keywords that indicate the context in which they are discussed.

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The Life of a Farmer: 1500-words Essay for Students

By: Haque | For HSC/GCE A-Level/HS 3-4 students

Introduction

Farming is an essential part of human civilization and has been practiced for thousands of years. It is the backbone of our food supply, and without it, we would not be able to sustain ourselves. A farmer is a person who cultivates crops or raises livestock for food, fiber, or other products. The life of a farmer is a challenging one, and it requires hard work, dedication, and a deep connection to the land.

In this essay, we will explore the life of a farmer, their history, and the challenges they face. We will look at the daily routine of a farmer, the economic and environmental challenges they face, and the future of farming. Through this essay, we hope to gain a deeper understanding and appreciation for the hard work and dedication of farmers and their importance in our lives.

History of farming

Farming has been a part of human civilization for thousands of years, and it has undergone significant changes over time. In the early days, farming was a simple process that involved clearing land, planting crops, and harvesting them. As human populations grew, farming practices became more sophisticated, leading to the development of tools and machinery to make the process easier.

The agricultural revolution of the 18th and 19th centuries brought about significant changes in farming practices. The development of new technology such as the plow, seed drill, and threshing machine made farming more efficient and productive. This allowed farmers to produce more food, which in turn led to population growth and the growth of cities.

In the 20th century, the development of new farming technologies such as tractors, combines, and irrigation systems further increased productivity. These advancements allowed farmers to produce more food with less labor, which helped to feed a growing population.

Today, farming continues to evolve, with the use of precision agriculture, genetic engineering, and other advanced technologies. These new technologies are helping to increase efficiency and reduce the environmental impact of farming.

Overall, the history of farming is a story of innovation and adaptation to changing circumstances. From the earliest days of human civilization to the present day, farmers have been essential to our survival and have played a crucial role in shaping our world.

The daily life of a farmer

The daily life of a farmer can vary greatly depending on the type of farming they do and the season. However, there are certain tasks that most farmers perform regularly, such as feeding and caring for animals, planting and harvesting crops, and maintaining equipment and facilities.

A typical day for a farmer begins early in the morning, usually before sunrise. They may begin by feeding and caring for their animals, such as milking cows, feeding chickens, or checking on livestock. After this, they may move on to tasks such as repairing equipment or checking and maintaining irrigation systems.

During the growing season, planting and harvesting crops are the primary tasks. This may involve plowing, tilling, or fertilizing the soil, planting seeds or seedlings, and watering and maintaining the crops. Harvesting involves picking, cutting, or gathering the crops and then cleaning and storing them for sale or later use.

In addition to physical labor, farming also requires a significant amount of mental and emotional energy. Farmers must constantly monitor the weather, market conditions, and other factors that can affect their crops or animals. They must also manage finances, maintain relationships with suppliers and buyers, and keep up with regulations and other legal requirements.

The physical demands of farming can be significant, and farmers must be in good physical condition to handle the work. They may also work long hours and have to deal with extreme weather conditions, such as hot summer days or freezing winter nights.

Overall, the daily life of a farmer is one of hard work and dedication, with a deep connection to the land and a commitment to providing food and other products for their community.

Economic challenges of farming

Farming is not just a way of life, but also a business. Farmers must be able to produce crops or raise animals at a profit in order to sustain their livelihood. However, the economic challenges of farming can make it difficult to turn a profit, and many farmers struggle to make ends meet.

One of the main economic challenges faced by farmers is the volatility of crop and livestock prices. The price of agricultural products can fluctuate greatly based on factors such as weather, supply and demand, and international trade agreements. This can make it difficult for farmers to predict their income and plan for the future.

In addition to price fluctuations, farmers also face rising costs of production. The cost of equipment, fertilizer, seed, and other inputs can be significant, and it can be difficult for farmers to keep up with these costs without raising their prices.

Another economic challenge faced by farmers is access to credit. Many farmers need loans in order to purchase equipment or cover other expenses, but it can be difficult to secure credit in a timely manner, especially for small or new farmers.

To overcome these challenges, farmers may need to develop creative solutions. This may involve diversifying their crops or products, investing in new technology to increase efficiency, or forming cooperatives with other farmers to reduce costs and increase bargaining power. Some farmers also turn to alternative sources of income, such as agritourism or value-added products like jams or artisanal cheese.

Overall, the economic challenges of farming can be significant, but farmers who are able to adapt and innovate can succeed in this challenging but vital industry.

Environmental challenges of farming

Farming has a significant impact on the environment, and farmers must be aware of the potential environmental challenges that can arise from their practices. Some of the most pressing environmental challenges faced by farmers today include soil erosion, water pollution, and the loss of biodiversity.

Soil erosion is a major environmental challenge for farmers, especially those who engage in monoculture or tillage practices. These practices can strip the soil of vital nutrients and lead to soil erosion, which can result in reduced crop yields and long-term damage to the land.

Water pollution is another significant environmental challenge for farmers, particularly those who use fertilizers and pesticides. These chemicals can leach into groundwater or run off into streams and rivers, polluting the water and harming aquatic life. In addition, overuse of water can lead to depletion of aquifers, causing long-term damage to the water supply.

Loss of biodiversity is also a concern for farmers, particularly those who engage in large-scale monoculture practices. These practices can lead to a reduction in the variety of plant and animal species in a particular area, which can have negative impacts on ecosystem health and resilience.

To address these environmental challenges, farmers can adopt a range of practices that help to reduce their impact on the environment. For example, they can use cover crops or no-till farming techniques to reduce soil erosion, plant buffer zones along waterways to reduce runoff, and implement integrated pest management practices to reduce the use of chemical pesticides.

In addition, many farmers are adopting regenerative agriculture practices that focus on building soil health, increasing biodiversity, and reducing environmental impacts. By using these approaches, farmers can improve the sustainability of their practices and help to preserve the environment for future generations.

The future of farming

The future of farming is likely to be shaped by a range of social, economic, and environmental factors. Some of the key trends that are likely to impact the industry in the coming years include advances in technology, changing consumer preferences, and increasing concerns about sustainability.

One of the most important drivers of change in farming is likely to be the adoption of new technologies. Advances in precision agriculture, automation, and artificial intelligence are already helping farmers to increase efficiency, reduce waste, and improve productivity. These technologies are likely to continue to evolve and become more widespread, changing the way that farmers work and interact with the environment.

Changing consumer preferences are also likely to shape the future of farming. Consumers are increasingly interested in knowing where their food comes from and how it is produced, and they are placing greater emphasis on factors such as environmental sustainability, animal welfare, and social responsibility. Farmers who are able to meet these demands are likely to be more successful in the marketplace.

Finally, concerns about sustainability are likely to continue to be a major driver of change in the farming industry. As the impacts of climate change become more severe, farmers will need to find ways to adapt to changing conditions and reduce their environmental footprint. This may involve adopting new practices that help to build soil health, reduce greenhouse gas emissions, and increase biodiversity.

Overall, the future of farming is likely to be characterized by a combination of technological innovation, changing consumer preferences, and increasing focus on sustainability. Farmers who are able to adapt to these trends and find new ways to produce food and other agricultural products in a more sustainable and efficient way will be well-positioned to succeed in the years to come.

Farming is a vital industry that plays a critical role in feeding the world’s population and supporting rural communities. However, it is also an industry that faces a range of challenges, from economic and environmental pressures to changing consumer demands and technological advancements.

Despite these challenges, farmers continue to find innovative solutions and adapt to changing conditions, ensuring that they can produce the food and other agricultural products that we all rely on. By adopting new technologies, focusing on sustainability, and responding to changing consumer preferences, farmers can ensure that they are able to succeed in the years to come.

As we look to the future, it is clear that farming will continue to be a critical industry that plays an essential role in feeding the world’s population and supporting rural communities. By supporting farmers and working together to address the challenges they face, we can ensure that the future of farming is bright and sustainable for generations to come.

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The Life of a Farmer Essay | Essay on the Farmers of Bangladesh

Sentences: 37, Words: 350, Characters: 1,879

Introduction:   Bangladesh is an agricultural country. Eighty-five percent of the people of the country live in the villages. Agriculture is the main occupation of the people. The farmers of Bangladesh lead a very simple life. They are very poor. They earn their livelihood by the sweat of their brow.

His daily Activities: The farmer works hard in the field. He rises early in the morning and goes to the field with his plow on his shoulder. Then he begins plowing. A small child comes to the field at about 8 a.m. with his breakfast which is often a bowl of Panta. He takes his breakfast often with Kuncha Lanka and eats with great satisfaction. He then begins his work again. When he feels too tired, he takes a smoke in his Hokka.

He returns from the field at noon. He bathes and then takes his mid-day meal. This meal is too often a poor one. But he takes it with great relish. After his meal, he can’t give any rest to his body. He goes to the field again and works until sunset. He returns home in the evening. He works for an hour or two and takes his supper. Very soon he goes to bed and falls asleep. So, the life of a farmer in our country is a life of continuous toil.

Condition of the Farmer: The farmers are illiterate. They are poor. Though they work hard, they live from hand to mouth. Many farmers are landless. They plow the land of other people and get half share of it. They suffer from many diseases. Sometimes drought or flood damages their crops. So, they sell lands and take money from the village Mahajans at a high rate of interest. But we hardly realize this truth.

Importance of his Service: The farmers grow crops for the whole nation. Thus the whole nation lives on their labor.

Conclusion: We should take measures to improve the condition of the farmers. Farmers should not be neglected. They should be given agricultural loans at a low rate of interest.

Farmer Essay | Essay on the Farmers of Bangladesh

By: Haque , Words: 425, For Class 9-10/SSC

Introduction: Bangladesh is mainly an agricultural country. Most of the people of this country live by cultivation. So there is no doubt that the development of the country depends on the welfare of farmers and the improvement of agricultural production.

Present Condition of Farmers: Though a major portion of the country’s population is farmers, we cannot say that the farmers of this country are in a good condition. There are some reasons behind their miserable condition. First of all, a common characteristic of the farmers of Bangladesh is illiteracy. As the farmers are illiterate, they cannot make proper use of their resources and use scientific methods of cultivation. Besides, they are deceived and exploited at every step. Secondly, the agriculture of this country depends on the mercy of nature. Shortage of rain or excessive rain affects the agriculture of the country adversely. Thirdly, inadequate measures on the part of the government to protect the farmers and their interest has also been a reason behind the bad condition of the farmers of Bangladesh.

Farmers of the Country in the Past: Bangladesh has been famous as a fertile country for centuries. In history, we find the records of prosperous peasantry and fertility of this country. The famous world trotter Ibne Batuta visited this land during the regime of Shaista Khan and mentioned this country as very prosperous. But the condition of the farmers deteriorated after the occupation of power by the English. The farmers were oppressed and deprived of their rights. Then the English left the country and subsequently the country got independence, but the fate of the peasantry of this country has changed a little. The regime changed, the ruler changed but there has been little change in the pattern of rule. We are still bearing the heritage of English rule and the colonial ruling policies.

How to Develop the Fate of the Farmers: Certain things need to be done for improving the fate of the peasants of the country. First of all, steps should be taken to literate the farmers and make them aware of the latest technology of cultivation. Secondly, farmers should be given proper assistance and subsidy where necessary. Lastly, required modifications should be brought about in the government policies and laws to protect the interest of the farmers of the country.

Conclusion: There is no doubt that agriculture is the heart of the economy of the country. If the farmers of the country prosper, the country will prosper eventually. So, we should actively try to develop the agriculture of the country.

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Farmer Essay | Life of a Farmer Essay, 500 Words

By: Haque ; For class: 9,10,11,12; 11-02-’22

Introduction: Bangladesh is mainly an agricultural country. Most of the people of this country live by cultivation. The work of a farmer is to cultivate the land and to grow different crops, vegetables, and fruits. This work is very important for this country. Farmers supply the nation with food.

General Condition of Farmers in Bangladesh: The life of a farmer is a difficult one. Though a major portion of the country’s population is farmers, we cannot say that the farmers of this country are in a good condition. Their life is full of uncertainty and peril. Most of the farmers of Bangladesh cultivate the land of landlords. They get only a portion of what they grow. The growth of crops largely depends on the sun and rain. When there are no rainfall or rain delays, the production in their land is adversely affected. Agricultural production can also be affected by insects, pests, birds, animals, and other natural determinants. Then the farmers have to bear the brunt of it. But when they get a good harvest they can live at ease for the time being.

Activities of Farmers: The farmers of our country remain busy most of the year in their fields in plowing, harrowing, sowing seeds, putting insecticides and fertilizers, weeding, and harvesting. When there is no cultivation, then most of the farmers keep themselves busy in household work and in handicraft. They make different types of baskets, fences around their houses and fields and do other types of work.

Daily Life of a Farmer: A farmer is usually very hardworking. He gets up very early in the morning. During the cultivation season, he goes to work before the daybreak after having a little breakfast or whatever food he may find in the house. Sometimes, he even goes out on an empty stomach. He has to work very hard in his field. Usually, he carries his lunch to the field or any of his children take it for him at noon. He does not return home till nightfall. At that time he returns with a very tired body. Then he takes bath and goes to the market for buying his daily necessities. After returning from the market he is usually found to chat in the nearby tea stall with his friends or people of the locality while having tea and little snacks. It is his favorite pastime. Here he gets information about the events that took place in the locality. Sometimes, the discussions lead to different national and international matters. After that, he takes his meal ‘with his family members and goes to bed early because he will have to go to his work again the next day very early in the morning. After the harvest season, he can work in a somewhat relaxed mood and engage himself in some other activities such as making baskets, fishing, weaving fishing nets, putting fences around his house and fields, etc.

Conclusion: In spite of such hard labor, a farmer can earn very little. He is often poor and illiterate. Most of the farmers cannot feed their families well or send their children to school. Their lives are devoid of modern facilities of living. So, the government should take steps to improve the living standard of farmers.

A Farmer Paragraph, 100 Words

Sentences: 11, Words: 100, Characters: 530

Write a paragraph on ‘A Farmer’ or ‘The life of a farmer’ in about 100 words answering the following questions:

• Who is a farmer?
• Where does a farmer live?
• What does he do?
• How does he serve us?
• Is a farmer rich or poor, usually?

He, who produces crops cultivating land, is called a farmer. A farmer provides food to the people of the country. Therefore, a farmer is the driving force of a country’s economy. They are hardworking. A farmer wakes up before dawn every day. Then he goes to the field with the cows and the plow. To produce crops, he burns in the sun and gets wet in the rain. They feed the country but do not get enough to eat themselves. They live below the poverty line. It’s very sad. We need to try to improve the living standards of farmers.

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A Farmer Paragraph for Class 3

Sentences: 20, Words: 100, Characters: 532

The person who grows crops is a farmer. A farmer is a very hardworking person. He provides food to the people of the country. He gets up very early in the morning and goes to the field. He grows paddy, wheat, jute, potato, tomato, brinjal, and more. He works hard all day long. Most of the time he works under the hot sun. Sometimes he works in the rain, too. A farmer keeps a nation’s economy wheel moving. But the farmer himself lives in poverty and sorrow. This is a matter of shame. The livelihood of farmers should be improved.

A Farmer Paragraph, 150 Words

Sentences: 17, Words: 150, Characters: 789

Write a paragraph on ‘A Farmer’ or ‘The Life of a Farmer’ on the basis of the questions given below:

• Does he usually get enough to eat?
• Do you like a farmer’s work? Why?

A farmer is a man who cultivates land and works in the field. Bangladesh is an agricultural country. Eighty percent of people are farmers. A farmer in our country lives in a village. His home is generally made of corrugated iron sheets or straws and mud. He rises early in the morning and goes to the field with his plow and a pair of bullocks. He plows his land till noon. Then he comes back home to take a meal. After taking meal he again goes to the field and works till sun-set. A farmer works very hard. He works from morning till evening. But usually, he does not get enough to eat. He lives from hand to mouth. He also suffers from many diseases. I like a farmer’s work because he lives an honest life. He also supplies food for the nation. The countrymen should pay respect to him.

A Paragraph on a Farmer / The Life of a Farmer, 170 Words

Sentences: 15, words: 170, Characters: 904

A farmer is a person who cultivates lands and grows crops. The life of a farmer is a very ordinary life. He works in the field all day, ignoring the sun and rain. Very early in the morning, he goes to the field with cows and a plow. When the harvest is ripe, the farmer has a sickle in his hand and a smile on his face. Thus he harvests two or three times a year. He worked hard all his life. When a natural disaster destroys his crop, the farmer’s grief knows no bounds. On the other hand, a good harvest fills his mind with joy, he shares his joy with his neighbors. Farmers usually live in thatched houses. They can’t afford to spend extra. He has to sell paddy to buy clothes. The children of farmers can’t study much due to scarcity. There is no opportunity for traveling or entertainment in their life. Therefore, the government needs to come forward to improve the living standards of the farmers.

A Paragraph on the Life of a Farmer, 200 Words

Sentences: 19, Words: 200, Characters: 1065.

• What percentage of the people in your country are engaged in agriculture?
• How do you see the life of a farmer?
• Describe how a rural farmer in Bangladesh cultivates land.
• What are the means of entertainment in the life of a farmer?

Bangladesh is an agricultural country. Eighty-five percent of people living in agriculture. The farmers of Bangladesh are not rich. They lead a very simple life. They earn their livelihood by the sweat of their brow. A farmer works hard, from dawn to dusk. Waking up very early in the morning, he starts towards the field with a pair of cows and a plow on his shoulder. Then he begins plowing his land. After a while, his young son or daughter comes to the field with a bowl of rice. Then the farmer takes his breakfast which consists of a dish of Panta rice. At noon, he returns home, takes his bath, and mid-day meal. Then he starts again and returns home in the evening. He goes to bed early. Some farmers have a radio set. So, at night he, along with other members of the family, listens to the radio. He took part in social and religious festivals to a limited extent. A farmer can’t live a good life despite his hard work. His heart is filled with joy if he gets a bumper crop. He forgets all his pain when he sees his young children playing in the courtyard.

An Ideal Farmer Paragraph, 200 Words

Sentences: 22, Words: 200, Characters: 1042.

An ideal farmer is an important person in society who plays a big role in the economy of the country by producing food. To be an ideal farmer, one must possess some qualities. I have known an ideal farmer for a long time. He lives in our village. His name is Jamal. He has to maintain a big family. He has a few acres of land of his own. His life is a life of endless struggle. He is strong and healthy. He is very simple and hard working. He gets up from bed early in the morning and goes to the field. He works there till sunset. He works very hard all day long in the sun and the rain. He plants many crops and looks after them carefully. He also grows vegetables. He consults with the agriculture officer if he finds any problem in the field. He is very diligent and works hard to maintain his family. However, he remains satisfied with what he gets. He knows the modern method of cultivation. He looks after his children carefully and enjoys all the social festivals. He is an asset to our country. The nation needs such an ideal farmer.

Paragraph on an Ideal Farmer / Life of a Farmer Paragraph, 200 Words

Sentences: 16, Words: 200, Characters: 1106

An ideal farmer cultivates land and grows crops. He is an important person in our country. Usually, he lives in a house made of corrugated tin or straw in a village. An ideal farmer lives a very simple life. He earns his living through hard work. He wakes up very early in the morning, takes a little breakfast, and goes to the field with a wooden plow and a pair of cows. Sometimes he doesn’t get time for lunch because of his busy schedule. The source of a farmer’s joy and sorrow is his land. He is cheerful when the crop is good, on the other hand, he suffers when the crop is ruined by drought, flood, or hailstorm. But despite working hard, a farmer can’t meet the basic needs of his family. In addition, in our society, a farmer is considered a low-class citizen, which is very unfair. In fact, an ideal farmer is a great asset to our society. The farmers provide us with food. He contributes to the economy of the country. Therefore, the government should take appropriate steps to improve the living standards of our farmers. Because our national development depends on the development of farmers.

A Farmer Composition

115 Words, for Class-3

A farmer is a person who grows crops. Our life is completely dependent on him. A farmer is usually poor. He leads a very busy life. He is strong and hardworking. He gets up early and goes to the field. There he works all day long. He works under the hot sun and in the rain. Thus, he grows crops like paddy, jute, tea, potato, etc. We eat these foods and survive. without him, we cannot exist in this world. he becomes happy when the harvest is good. he suffers a lot when the harvest is not good due to natural disasters. A farmer grows crops for us. We are grateful to him. We must respect him.

For Class-7

A farmer is a person who plows lands and grows crops. A good farmer works hard in his fields. He gets up early in the morning and goes to the field with his plow and bullocks. He plows his field many times. He puts cow dung and puts fertilizers on his field. He waters and irrigates his lands in time. He plants seedlings in rows and grows a lot of crops. A farmer serves the nation. He does not have his due honor in society. We should be respectful to a farmer and the government should take necessary steps to improve the skills of the farmers.

Check out: 300+ Essays & Paragraphs in English

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A teacher, writer and blogger, started allparagraph noting students search online for paragraphs on various topics, short and simple essays , edifying stories and other materials of study . In composing these lessons we have tried to use as simple language as possible, keeping young students in mind. If you find any text inappropriate, please let us know so we can make it more useful through necessary corrections and modifications. Thank you!

2 thoughts on “Farmer Essay | Life of a Farmer Essay & Paragraph”

I want a farmer composition on 500 words🙂🥺

Thank you. Here we have written a 500-word essay about farmers, though not a composition. There is no big difference between essays and composition. One has subtitles, the other doesn’t—that’s the difference. However, we will soon add a 500-word composition for you.

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Essay on My Father for Students and Children

500+ words essay on my father.

Essay on My Father: Usually, people talk about a mother’s love and affection, in which a father’s love often gets ignored. A mother’s love is talked about repeatedly everywhere, in movies, in shows and more. Yet, what we fail to acknowledge is the strength of a father which often goes unnoticed. Father’s a blessing which not many people have in their lives. It would also be wrong to say that every father is the ideal hero for their kids because that is not the case. However, I can vouch for my father without any second thoughts when it comes to being an ideal person.

My Father is Different!

As everyone likes to believe that their father is different, so do I. Nonetheless, this conviction is not merely based on the love I have for him, but also because of his personality. My father owns a business and is quite disciplined in all aspects of life. He is the one who taught me to always practice discipline no matter what work I do.

Most importantly, he has a jovial nature and always makes my mother laugh with his silly antics even after 27 years of marriage. I completely adore this silly side of him when he is with his loved ones. He tries his best to fulfill all our wishes but also maintains the strictness when the need arises.

One of the best things I love about my father is that he has always kept a very safe and open home environment. For instance, my siblings and I can talk about anything with him without the fear of being scolded or judged. This has helped us not to lie, which I have often noticed with my friends.

In addition, my father has an undying love for animals which makes him very sympathetic towards them. He practices his religion devotedly and is very charitable too. I have never seen my father misbehave with his elders in my entire life which makes me want to be like him even more.

Get the huge list of more than 500 Essay Topics and Ideas

My Father is My Source of Inspiration

I can proudly say that it is my father who has been my source of inspiration from day one. In other words, his perspective and personality together have shaped me as a person. Similarly, he has a great impact on the world as well in his own little ways. He devotes his free time in taking care of stray animals which inspires me to do the same.

My father has taught me the meaning of love in the form of a rose he gifts to my mother daily without fail. This consistency and affection encourage all of us to treat them the same way. All my knowledge of sports and cars, I have derived from my father. It is one of the sole reasons why I aspire to be a cricket player in the future.

To sum it up, I believe that my father has it all what it takes to be called a real-life superhero. The way he manages things professionally and personally leaves me mesmerized every time. No matter how tough the times got, I watched my father become tougher. I certainly aspire to become like my father. If I could just inherit ten percent of what he is, I believe my life will be sorted.

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Essay on My father

My father is the best father of this world, he takes care of all my happiness, since childhood he has loved and cherished me a lot.

My father is very strict for discipline, he always reaches his office on time and does his work with full sincerity.

They have also taught me to be in discipline, that’s why I have become such a good student today, he also takes us on a picnic every month.

Also serves my grandparents and keeps the whole family together in a bond of love, hence he is the best father in the world.

My Father My Hero My Inspiration Essay 250 Words:

My father is a very good-natured person. Every person in the society respects him.

My father is a much disciplined person, he wakes up at 5:00 am and after retiring from his routine, he does yoga and then goes for a run in the garden.

My father has also taught me to be disciplined and respect the elders. He stands with me in every failure and success.

Whenever I get nervous, he makes me excited by telling stories of courageous people and gives me encouragement.

Today that’s why I am the most promising student of my class.

My father is very kind and he always helps others, he works for household expenses and my mother does household work.

My father is a very good person, hence I do not worry about telling the things of the office and take us for a walk in the garden every day.

He fulfills all the needs of our family by laughing.

My father never talks angrily even if I had made a mistake, I love him and sometimes if mother’s health deteriorates, then he also helps her in household work.

He also give time to his parents, ask their well-being and fulfill every wish of theirs. In fact, he is a good man as well as a good father and a good son.

Essay on My Father 350 Words:

My father is a peace loving person with a good personality.

My father is a lawyer who works to provide justice to people this is a very good work, and he always goes to office on time and does his work with full diligence and integrity.

I had also seen many changes in him regarding timr, I also do all my work from time to time.

Whenever I am disappointed or unable to score good in the exam, my father encourages me to increase my confidence.

He shares biographies of great men and also tells me about the events that had taken place his life, so that my self-confidence increases.

He has always been kind-hearted and that is why he help the poor and our neighbors.

My father always speaks the truth and also inspires me to speak the truth because we do not fear anything by speaking the truth.

Whenever I make a mistake, instead of getting angry, he explain me in a peaceful way.

My father obeys every command of his parents, he serve them in the early morning and after returning from office he sit with them and discuss the whole day, which makes my grandparents very happy.

My father loves all of us very much, that’s why he always takes care of our small needs.

He take us on a picnic at the end of the month, on that day we have a lot of fun, this increases our familiarity in life and all the family members understand each other.

My father spends time with all the people along with doing his work, due to which the whole family remains united and there is an atmosphere of happiness.

My Father Essay My Role Model:

No other person can struggle in the life as much as a father does. It is the father who forgets all his difficulties and shares happiness in the family.

The father, after facing all his life, nurtures the whole family.

A father fulfills his family responsibilities as well as his moral responsibility.

A father shows himself harsh from outside, but no one can be as kind and good as him. He always thinks of the happiness of the family, ignoring his happiness.

He buys very few items for himself but does not allow any shortage of items for his children and family. There is a father who always performs his duties as a son, a brother and a good spouse.

Importance of Father in life:

My father is the best man in the world, he is a very hard working farmer.

Earlier our family used to be very poor, but my father has increased the financial level of the family by working very hard in the morning and that is why today I am able to get a good education in a good school.

My father could not study more due to the financial condition of his family, but he always wanted me to be a good person by reading and writing.

I have learned the mantra of success from my father. He has taught me to always keep working and not to worry about the fruit.

That is why I study diligently every day, due to which I got first place in the class. He has always taught me to speak the truth and help others because of these qualities of his, I always speak the truth and help my classmates.

My father has taught me how to use money properly because I used to waste money earlier in vain, but after explain by my father, I always uses the money well.

In this essay, we have life of My father works very hard to nurture the family, but he never lets us lack anything.

My father is very tired when he returns home from the farm in the evening, but for our happiness he spends time with us, tells us good instructive stories and also helps us in our reading.

He always share happiness with the family, never tell their problems to us. Seeing this sacrifice of theirs, I am also encouraged to move forward.

He has always taught us to move forward and never let go of our goals by being afraid of difficulties, but by struggling with them.

He is a farmer, so no one can struggle more then him, so I consider him my ideal. Our family is very large, so whenever my father goes to visit his siblings and other relatives he bring gifts and sweets for them, he always believes in sharing happiness.

My father understands his family responsibilities well and goes to work every day, even if he is sick, he never forgets his duty.

I think that no other person can do as much sacrifice and love as much as a father does.

In addition to family duties, my father also plays social duties with full devotion and calls us with all due respect in our society. They also give him equal respect.

He has also taught me to always respect others because they have told that others do the same to us as we do, so one should always help others and respect them.

I love all these things of my father, so I also follow these things in my life, due to which all the teachers of school and my colleagues like me very much.

My father is very patient. Whenever I do any work, I do it very wisely and patiently, that is why they always produce a good crop and succeed in their work. Seeing their ability to work every day gives me a different courage and courage.

My father is a good father as well as a good son, as much as he takes care of us, he takes care of his parents as well.

He take the blessings of his parents as soon as he wake up in the morning and then start work.

In this essay on my father is also a good life partner. He helps my mother in all the work. Whenever my mother’s health is bad, he ask her to rest.

That is why he is the best father in the world, I always follow his teachings that is why I haven’t fail.

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MY BEST FRIEND ESSAY | MY MOTHER ESSAY | MY FAMILY ESSAY | MY SCHOOL ESSAY

Conclusion:

Parents are like an old gree, who have seen every joy and every sorrow of life, they have lived every single moment, and they have the ability to understand every good bad person.

As long as the hand of the father is on our forehead we do not need to worry about anything.

They always bear the sorrows themselves and only give us happiness that is why we get so much happiness in life.

We should never forget our father’s struggles and serve him after he grows up and show him to be a good person as well as a good son.

In this essay on my father, We should never forget our parents, because of them, the successes we have achieved today are the result of their struggles and thoughts.

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English Compositions

Short Essay on My Father [100, 200, 400 Words] With PDF

Essays on ‘Father’ is a very common English writing comprehension test for many exams. In this lesson today, I will discuss how to write short essays on one of the most important people of our life: Father. 

Short Essay on Father in 100 Words

My father is a kind and caring person. He is my hero. He works hard and takes care of our family. He always motivates me to study well, work hard and chase my dreams. Whenever I am sick, he stays beside me and takes care of me alongside my mother.

My father is a loving husband to my mother and a filial son to his parents. He helps my mother with the household chores and spends a lot of time with my grandparents. He has never differentiated between a son and a daughter and treats me and my sibling equally. On weekends, he takes us out for picnics, movies, and other fun activities. My father is a role model for me. 

Short Essay on Father in 200 Words

My father is an ideal man. He is kind and caring. He works hard and takes care of our family. He is a strong-willed person who doesn’t fear challenges and never gives up. He motivates me to study well and work hard towards my dreams. My father is my best friend. I share all my worries and problems with him and he always comes up with the best solutions. When I am sad, he comforts me and gives me strength. When I am sick, he stays beside me and takes care of me alongside my mother. 

My father is a loving husband and a filial son. He helps my mother with the household work and shares her load. He values her a lot and never fights with her. He also spends a lot of time with my grandparents and takes them to visit their old friends whenever he has time. He also takes us out for family picnics and outings on weekends.

My father has never differentiated between a son and a daughter and treats both me and my sibling equally. He has set an example for us by being an upright, compassionate and genuine human being. He has taught us to be honest, respectful, and kind. My father is my role model and I love him very much. 

Short Essay on Father in 400 Words

My father is the backbone of our family. He is a kind, caring and compassionate person. He is a teacher by profession and is well-respected by his students and colleagues. He works hard and takes care of our family. My father is strong-willed and optimistic. He is not afraid of facing challenges and doesn’t give up no matter how difficult a situation is.

He motivates me to study well and work hard towards my dreams. My father is also my best friend. He listens to whatever I have to say. I can share all my worries and problems with him and he always comes up with the best solutions. When I am not in a good mood, he comforts me. When I am sick, he takes care of me. Even when he returns home tired, he makes sure to sit with us and have a nice talk. 

My father is a generous person. Being a teacher, he has come across many students who want to learn but do not have the financial capacity to support their studies. For them, he has given lessons for free and even helped them financially.

He is very kind to the poor and needy. He helps them and does as much as possible to support them. My father is a helpful person and is always ready to extend a helping hand whenever our neighbours are in some kind of trouble. I am very proud of him. 

My father is an ideal husband and son. He helps my mother with the household chores and shares the load. He values her, listens to her thoughts, ideas and opinions and never fights with her. They always make sure that our home environment is peaceful and harmonious.

My father is also a filial son who spends a lot of time taking care of his parents. He takes my grandparents out to the park and to visit their old friends whenever he has time. On weekends, he takes us out for picnics, movies and other fun activities. When my sibling or I have exams, my father stays up at night to guide us and help us with our studies. 

My father has never differentiated between a son and a daughter and treats both me and my sibling equally. He has taught us to be upright, honest, respectful and kind. He leads by example and has shown us how to be selfless, brave and patient. My father is my role model and I love him dearly. 

Hopefully, from the session above, you have gotten a holistic idea of how you can write short essays on ‘Father’ in a concise form. In this lesson, I have adopted a simplistic approach and easy language to write these essays so that all kinds of students can understand those without any difficulties. If you still have any doubts regarding this session, kindly let me know through some quick comments. 

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Sign up for essence newsletters the keep the black women at the forefront of conversation., how my father's approach to personal style inspired my love for shopping.

Very few people have influenced my personal style quite like my dad. My timeline and mood boards are filled with influential A-listers, like the late singer Aaliyah, and film references dating back to the 1970s, but none rival him. From the way I shop to the pieces I pick out and my love for a good vintage find, my father is–and always has been–a key source of inspiration.

For as long as I can remember, my dad has loved to shop. Whether it was browsing the racks at department stores or exploring the boutiques in Paris and Switzerland during his work travels, for niche brands we didn’t have in the United States, nothing brings him as much joy as landing a quality purchase. And he was always sure to bring back something for me from every trip—opening me up to a wealth of options beyond my beloved retailers in the mall.

Some of my earliest memories include perusing the very limited assortment of stores in the heart of Indianapolis, for nothing and everything at the same time alongside my dad. It was something we’d do, just the two of us—though my mom would tag along from time to time to make sure I was also getting what I needed rather than just the things I wanted. We’d make our rounds in both Saks Fifth Avenue and Nordstrom’s children’s department, before eventually heading to the ‘90s retailer Stride Rite’—who always had a batch of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies ready for customers while they tried on shoes. It was the first time that I saw shopping as a leisure activity, rather than an errand one must run. 

Then, when the boom of online shopping hit in the early to mid-2000s, my dad was leading the charge. He introduced my mom and me to discount designer websites like the Gilt Group, RueLaLa, and Bluefly (which was particularly big on the hit show Gossip Girl). He was always ten steps ahead, setting timers for the digital trunk shows on these sites, for his favorite brands like Ralph Lauren and Loro Piana.

The same is true when it comes to secondhand shopping. Decades before the Gen Z crowd started swarming thrift stores , my dad was taking to our local vintage boutiques to search for heavily discounted pieces his go-to designers. For him, it has always been about the thrill of a good deal. The wallet-friendly price tag was just the icing on top. Today, he has his go-to consignment stores in my hometown, which have in turn become my new favorites as well,

However, it’s worth noting that despite shopping for sportswear, my dad is quite picky. A former tax attorney born in Mississippi, he has his favorite labels and desired navy blue color palette, both of which he’s stuck closely to for the last 30 years of my life. I heard the phrase “quality over quantity” more times than I can count, as he tried encouraging me to invest in desirable fabrics and well-made pieces rather than the Forever 21 camisoles and Hollister henleys I was bringing home by the dozens. 

I’d say his words finally stuck in adulthood, as I began weeding out the pilled sweaters and ill-fitting pants I’d accumulated over the years—undoing all the damage that had been done to my closet. His advice started to click somewhere around age 23—I began buying less and better, but he was already thinking ahead to what would come next.

A few years before Marie Kondo inspired a new generation of minimalists, my dad was already on it. Just as quickly as he had started building out his wardrobe, he was getting rid of things he no longer wore in an attempt to downsize to only the essentials. And for no other reason aside from the fact that he wanted a lighter lifestyle.

When I moved to New York City almost a decade ago, the first thing he wanted to do was go to Woodbury Commons, the outdoor designer outlet just an hour outside of the city. I watched him scan the racks at Saks Off Fifth and Neiman’s Last Call like a robocop, before settling on a double-breasted coat from the (now defunct brand) Ted Baker—which he still has to this day.

It was at that moment, I realized I know everything I know and love about shopping is accredited to him. When I’m picking out something these days, I stick to classic black pieces I can wear with anything. Similar to my dad, I invest in materials like cotton and linen that will last longer than a few seasons. And most importantly—I love a good deal and vintage finds. Now, at age 30, I’m sitting in my NYC apartment surrounded by things that used to bring me joy and now feel like clutter , contemplating how I too can become a minimalist, just like my dad.

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I took my kids on the vacation I hated as a girl. Now I understand my parents more than ever

When I think back on my summers growing up on the Connecticut shoreline, so much was idyllic. I spent long hot days on sandy beaches swimming in the Long Island Sound, or enrolled in craft camps weaving baskets while slurping Capri Sun. My family would tuck into fried seafood takeout from the clam shack down the street for dinner on our deck.

We also went on vacation. In the mid-’90s as a preteen, that meant an RV trip. My parents purchased a 27-foot Dutchmen Coleman RV and it was my dad’s dream trip. He idealized piling me, my mom, my older brother and younger sister into an RV for an epic road trip to scenic campsites where we’d trade computers and TVs for the great outdoors. 

We traveled around the Northeast and to Canada in it and I remember these trips vividly. But not for the reasons you’d expect. 

As a child, I disliked them tremendously. The entire vacation felt like one big laborious chore, loading or unloading the RV with endless streams of bags. Getting where we were going meant long hours driving, and there was always work to be done, either setting up or packing to go home. I’d toss and turn all night on a thin RV mattress while my parents’ snores kept me awake.

I also remember how frustrated my dad seemed, fuming that no one was helping and vowing that next time, he’d leave us kids at home and go with just my mom. 

Packed into tight quarters, I’d retreat to the sole bedroom and click on my cassette player queued up with REM’s “Everybody Hurts” to fully lean into the sense of suffering I felt.

Why couldn’t we just go to Disney and sleep in real beds like everyone else?

Now, I’m a parent of a 3.5-year-old and a 1-year-old. My husband and I love to travel and try to share it with our kids. Though at their ages, it’s still more so a trip than a vacation. We’ve taken them to Hawaii, Mexico and across the United States, and typically stay in resorts where they splash in pools and we try to feel some semblance of relaxation. 

But this past spring, we decided on something different. I found myself thinking of my childhood travels and those RV trips. I hadn’t camped since, and perhaps out of a sense of boredom or looking for something — anything — to keep my kids entertained, I thought it was worth another shot. 

As a parent, I could see the appeal. Instead of stuffing all four of us into a 300-square-foot hotel room, we’d stay in a Keystone Passport Travel Trailer rented through RVShare with a kitchen, living area, bathroom and two bedrooms. It was larger than my family’s RV, and was parked and waiting for us in a KOA campground outside of San Diego, so we didn’t have to worry about hauling it. 

Upon arrival, I felt optimistic. We were in a beautiful, remote setting where devices were forgotten in favor of jumping on an in-ground giant trampoline, swimming in a heated pool, roasting nightly s’mores, and taking part in tie-dye and gemstone hunts. The setting was tailor-made for children and as my kids played, I let out a deep exhale. 

Then my toddler complained when the trailer’s TV didn’t work. She lamented her breakfast choices despite a fully stocked fridge. My baby cried every night when any movement in the trailer jolted her awake, and my husband and I were on an endless loop between the car and trailer to bring in forgotten items, all while simultaneously trying to keep two tiny humans out of danger.  

I was frustrated, but not like before. I was no longer the bored child; I had fully become the exhausted parent. I found myself envisioning how much simpler things would be were it just me and my husband. Before I could stop myself, the words came spilling out.

“If we try this again, it’s just going to be you and me until they’re way older,” I told my husband.

And then I did two things. First, I laughed, and then I FaceTimed my parents to say, “I’m sorry” and “thank you.”

Only now could I see my dad wasn’t just angry for the heck of it. He was stressed because traveling with kids is tough and an RV can be a lot of work. My siblings and I were older than my kids; we could have helped but didn’t. 

I also realized that he might have felt disappointed because, at that age, we couldn’t see the trip through his perspective, or appreciate the memories he and my mom were trying to create. 

My own trip made me understand my parents in a way I hadn’t previously. It was a gentle reminder that my parents, and most out there, are just trying their best to make happy, lasting memories, even when things aren’t sparkly or easy. 

I likely won’t become a fully-fledged camper like my dad — I still much prefer plush beds in nice hotels — but I’m glad I gave RVing another chance. 

And when my girls are grown and they inevitably tease or roll their eyes over some trip we take, I won’t be offended. Who knows, if I’m lucky, one day, I might even get a “thank you” call, too.

Emily Hochberg is a California-based writer and editor focusing on travel, parenting, lifestyle and luxury. She has contributed to Travel + Leisure, Business Insider, The Points Guy, Parents, Apartment Therapy, US News & World Report, PEOPLE, Yahoo, Best Products and more.

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If I Was A Farmer (Essay Sample)

If i was a farmer.

A farmer is an important person in the society because he provides food for everyone. If I were a farmer, I would be very proud because  I would be one of the most admired person in the society because everyone will purchase my produce. Everybody will depend on my farm to meet their food requirements. Being a farmer is a huge responsibility because everyone will rely on me to meet their food requirements.  If I  was a farmer, I will be famous and admired by many people because of my richness. I will grow and sell crops that most people consume locally.

Most of my  crops will be for commercial purposes. However, I will grow some crops to feed my family and avoid spending much money on purchasing food every time. My journey of becoming a rich farmer starts by developing a routine to help me achieve my goals; I will wake up early every morning to go to the field to supervise the people working on my farm. Being an expert farmer, I will purchase modern equipment like tractors to make my work easy.  I will take care of my crops by applying fertilizer, sprinkling pesticides to protect them against insects and other harmful pests.

Most farmers are perceived to be illiterate and old. However, if I was a farmer, I will be among the new generation of farmers equipped with adequate knowledge of good farming practices. I will use my knowledge to embrace good farming practices like testing the soil in the field in the laboratory to determine which crop is more suitable for the type of soil on my farm. I would take advantage of existing government programs for the farmer by acquiring loans to improve my farm. My farm will have electricity and water, which are essential commodities for any farmer. Even though farmers depend upon nature whereby  adequate rainfall determines  their agricultural output, I will be a revolutionary farmer.  I will practice new farming methods like irrigation to avoid depending on nature. Adopting better farming practices will guarantee me good food supply throughout the year.

I have always imagined watching cattle graze in the pasture on sunny days. The smell of healthy soil and fresh cut grass and the sound of corns in the field as I stand out in a warm evening watching my farm with animals sparing from the highest spot on the hill has been part of my dream as a farmer. People view farming as a complicated process; I am committed to becoming a good farmer. Farming is not about putting seeds on the ground and waiting for crops to grow on their own. It involves constant monitoring and taking care of these plants. Being a good farmer, I will constantly compare the market prices to get the best prices for my farm products.

Factors like bad weather will not deter my efforts; I will take advantage of the various seasons by planning my activities to maximize the natural weather. During rainy seasons will store water,   plant fodder and other crops that can withstand rain. During hot seasons,  I will also plant crops that can withstand hot weather. Before the onset of winter, I will harvest the crops and process them before the weather destroys the crops,  my farm will be busy throughout all season. After harvesting, I will sell my crops to earn profit from my hard work. I will ensure that I use the modern technology to maximize production, with time I will purchase more acres to expand my farming business to make more profit.

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My Father and the Withering of Liberal Zionism

Was my family’s dream of a jewish socialist utopia all a lie.

This article was featured in One Great Story , New York ’s reading recommendation newsletter. Sign up here to get it nightly.

On the morning of October 8, I looked up bleary-eyed from the computer on which I’d been scrolling nonstop for hours and said a version of what I have since heard so many Israelis say: “They hate us. They all want us dead. There’s no peace to be made with animals like that.” My husband stared at me in horror. He placed his hand on my shoulder, shaking me, and said, “How can you be saying this! You ’ re the one who taught me how to feel about Palestine!”

I remember in his eyes an expression not merely of dismay but of betrayal. Who was this unrecognizable person with a snarl on her face and revenge in her heart? My urge was to shout at him that he didn’t understand, he couldn’t understand, but I managed to choke down my fury. It’s not that he shook me out of my incoherent, visceral rage. But he reminded me of who I’d been and, more important, who I wanted to be. Pretend, I said to myself. Pretend you are who you once were, until you are able to find yourself again.

Though this spinning of my moral compass was dramatic and shattering, it was not an unfamiliar feeling when it comes to Israel. I grew up in a devout family, but our religion was Labor Zionism and our god was Israel, the dream of a homeland for the Jews built on principles of secular socialism. Our place of worship was the kibbutz, our origin myth my father’s immigration to Israel from Canada in 1948 and his founding of Kibbutz Kissufim in the Negev Desert, one of the kibbutzim that was invaded by Hamas militants on October 7 .

I was born in Jerusalem, though by the time I was a toddler we were back in Montreal and eventually moved to the United States. Where once my parents had made aliyah — literally “gone up” to Israel — now we were yordim , those who had “gone down,” a pejorative appellation that carried with it the shame of having betrayed our deepest values.

My father spent his career making up for this breach of faith. He was an exquisitely talented fundraiser for various Israeli causes, regaling busloads of wealthy Jews with tales of his early years as a chalutz, a pioneer. In 1975, the San Francisco novelist Herbert Gold went on one of the “missions” my father led to Israel. In a column about the trip, he writes that Leonard Waldman “tracked me to my bed. He had no mercy,” adding, “That’s why we are here: to see where the money is needed, to see where it goes, to have our arms twisted.” My father said to him, “Money helps to make us righteous. Why else should we live, if not to be righteous?” Gold wrote, “His eyes are glowing. He looks happy. He looks like a man in that state of exaltation.” My father continued, “It’s good to have a Jewish heart. It’s good to have a Jewish soul. It’s good to be a Jew.”

Like all observant parents, mine raised me in the tradition of their beliefs. I went to Zionist summer camps, visited Israel, lived for a year in high school on Kibbutz Kfar Blum in the Galilee, and did my junior year abroad at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. Afterward, I decided to make my life in Israel on Kibbutz Hazorea, not far from Haifa, where my eldest brother, Yosi, lived. I was fulfilling my father’s Zionist dream.

As a citizen of Israel, I was obliged to serve in the military, a duty I welcomed. My father had served in the Palmach, an elite Jewish fighting force that merged with the Haganah, the Zionist paramilitary organization that eventually became the Israeli army. Yosi had been a highly decorated officer in the paratroopers, while another brother had also served. I fully intended to follow in their footsteps, but when budget cuts caused the IDF for a short period to offer draft exemptions to girls, I jumped at the opportunity. Without really understanding or interrogating why, within two months I had packed my bags and left the country. I was 22 years old.

Over the next years and decades I disengaged from Zionism, eventually becoming an advocate for Palestinian rights and sovereignty. Along with my husband, I edited a volume of essays called Kingdom of Olives and Ash: Writers Confront the Occupation . I gave lectures about the injustices of the Nakba and of occupation, I wrote op-eds and made television appearances defending the necessity of Palestinian self-determination, I received awards as a “Defender of Palestine.”

This advocacy gave me purpose, but in the nine months since the Hamas attack and the Israeli invasion, I have grown increasingly hopeless, buffeted by feelings of despair, shame, anger, and disgust both with myself and the country of my birth. I felt powerless in the face of the catastrophic horror Israel is raining down on the people of Gaza.

That was how I found myself accepting an invitation from a group of American rabbis to participate in an antiwar demonstration at a border crossing between Gaza and Israel. This would be my teshuvah, my repentance, for my violent yearning for vengeance as well as an affirmation of the fundamental values I had in those moments betrayed. What I didn’t realize then was that this trip would take me back in time to dig deeper into the inherent contradiction and willful blindness of the “liberal” form of Zionism that motivated my father when he first came to, in his own words, “colonize” Palestine for the Jews in 1948 — an ideology that lost much of its political influence long ago and was, for me, shattered by October 7 and the consequent invasion of Gaza.

On October 7, Kibbutz Kissufim, about a mile from the Gaza border, was the site of a long and intense attack in which 14 residents were killed and one, 86-year-old Shlomo Mansour , was taken hostage, the oldest of those still held in Gaza. It is also where the likely last victim of the Hamas attack, Reuven Heinik, the manager of the dairy farm, was shot by a militant when he returned to the kibbutz on October 9 to care for the cattle.

Though I had never before visited, Kibbutz Kissufim has played a starring role in the narrative of my father and my family for as long as I can remember. In June 1948, when he was 23 years old, my father, a socialist and Zionist, left Montreal and made his way to Palestine to be part of the forming of a Jewish state and to join the Jewish military forces in their battle against the Arab armies. As he was an aspiring journalist, his letters home, which my siblings and I came across only after his death in 2021, are long and filled with ideological musings and elaborate descriptions.

In the first letter, upon reaching Palestine via Marseilles, he writes that the Jews are “all slightly slap-happy at the thought of having their own country.” It is, he writes, “the freest country in the world,” adding that “the country is now Eretz Israel and that’s the way it stays.” Throughout that summer, he writes with increasing exhilaration about the settlements and farms cropping up over areas conquered by Jewish forces. He writes that the Jews are “making the country look like a garden where it once looked like a desert,” repeating the phrase used by many Jews who arrived in Palestine in the 1940s, and one I myself learned in Hebrew school 35 years later.

Within days, he joined the Palmach and was immediately promoted to the role of “instructor.” The Palmach had no officers, he said, just instructors and comrades, so this 23-year-old, whose military experience had until then consisted of a short stint in the Canadian ski patrol, was now effectively an infantry officer responsible for training and leading other young volunteers. In a letter home, he reassures his family, “This business of being an instructor now means that I will probably never get close to an Arab … I am not running up and down the front line trenches with a pistol strapped to each hip and a tommy gun in my hands.” He adds, “With the Arabs a weapon doesn’t have to be lethal to frighten them. If it makes a big boom and throws up a flash of light and lot of smoke they almost die of fear.”

Adventure and euphoria burst from these letters: “I never stop being impressed with the miracle of a nation being born. At the moment mother and child both seem to be doing well. The infant is squalling lustily and the cry is heard around the world. The world may not like the cry but it can’t help hearing it, and it can’t deny that the country is now alive.”

My father wrote these letters less than three years after World War II, when the extent of the genocide of the Jews of Europe and the grotesqueries of the death camps were still becoming clear. He wanted desperately to be a part of the creation of a new kind of Jew, one who would not — as the narrative went — be so easily and efficiently slaughtered.

There is a gap in the letters in my possession until August of the following year, after the Jews won the war and the State of Israel was formed. The letters of 1949 are replete with idealistic passages about the satisfactions of communal living, the fulfillment of the Zionist dream, and the pride my father took in his role in a blossoming socialist utopia. He had by this point joined with another group of young people — a garin , or seed — to found their own kibbutz. He is a leader of the garin , he writes, the man responsible for managing efforts to get a loan and buy a plot of land on which to settle.

During this period, the garin lived in a series of established kibbutzim, learning the skills that would be necessary when they founded their own. Some of the young pioneers, he writes, are working at “a rocky spot south of Haifa.”

By October, my father was desperate to set out for the Negev Desert. “I will go out and break my back to develop the Negev because it is a task that I think satisfies my self interest and the interests of the commune (which to me are the same thing),” he writes. His life became clear to him: “My own future I see no place else but on a kibbutz.” He goes into great detail about his efforts to purchase the tractors, trucks, and fishing equipment the fledgling kibbutz members need to establish their commune, known by now as Kibbutz Kissufim.

My father mentions in the last letter I have that he has married a girl he met two months before because she is as committed to their enterprise as he is and because she, like him, is a leader of the group. “We are both ‘machers’ in the garin,” he writes with obvious satisfaction. They lead a number of committees, and it is in their tent that people gather. Only late in the letter does he seem to realize what has been left unsaid: “And, of course, we fell in love with each other.”

The young man of these letters is someone I recognize. From the time I was a child, the only way I connected with my father, a man who maintained a strict emotional distance from his family, was through tales of these early days on the kibbutz. About this, the normally reticent man would talk, sometimes for hours. These were the years, he told me, when he felt most himself, when he was doing what he was meant to do, living the reality of his ideology as a Zionist and a socialist. From the moment he left the kibbutz and Israel, he wanted only to return, and had it not been for my mother, whom he married after his divorce from the socialist pioneer and with whom he moved back to Canada after a failed attempt to make a life in Jerusalem, he would live there still. I would have — should have — grown up on the kibbutz, a child of the socialist and Zionist dream.

In none of our conversations about the early years did my father talk about his service in the Palmach or about the war. The reason became clear to me on the first day of my trip to Israel this past March, when I asked Yosi, the eldest of the four children of my father’s first marriage, to drive south with me so I could visit Kissufim for the first time.

It was also then that I had my first inkling of the chasm between my perception of the war in Gaza and that of many of my family members and friends. When we planned our trip, Yosi mentioned he had been taking food to the border. My planned demonstration with the rabbis would involve attempting to take food into Gaza through the Erez Crossing, also known as the Beit Hanoun Crossing. I assumed this was the border Yosi meant. But within moments, it became clear that the border he had been driving to was in the north, and the people to whom he brought snacks and meals were the IDF soldiers stationed there.

On our drive south to Kissufim, Yosi announced firmly that he was neither a subject of nor a partner in my investigations. “I’m just the driver,” he said. And for the next two hours, he talked without pause. When our father told his parents that he would avoid combat in 1948, it was either a wish or a lie, Yosi told me. In fact, he was a machine gunner who would have fought in intense battles in which those Arabs he claimed ran at the sound of a loud noise tore his unit to shreds, likely killing many of the young people he had recruited and trained. “It’s about six months that there is continuous fighting and they continuously lose people,” Yosi said. “You go out at night and you don’t know if you’ll come back in the morning.” For some, those battles continued after the war, into the early 1950s. “They did crazy things. All kinds of stupid raids.” Raids on whom, I asked. “Gaza,” Yosi said.

I sat stunned. Raiding Arab villages long after the end of the war was not part of the picture of Zionist idealism my father had painted for me. During raids, Yosi said, young kibbutzniks would steal donkeys or other things in retaliation for similar thefts by the Arab villagers across the border in Gaza. These incursions and counter-incursions were not limited to thefts. There are stories of killings on both sides.

As a result of his experiences during the war, Yosi said, our father suffered for his entire life from untreated PTSD .

PTSD . It lands with a thud, at once shocking and so very obvious. My father’s silences, punctuated by bouts of rage. The jobs he lost, one after another, despite his magnetism and competence. The furious battles with my mother, which I had always blamed on her temper, her lack of control. I knew he had bipolar disorder, but I had not for a moment considered it was complicated by trauma. “It’s a very personal thing, being post-traumatic,” Yosi said. “Establishing a relationship that has emotions in it is very, very difficult. One of the most difficult things for post-traumatic syndrome people is to express their emotions. They close up, and they shut up.”

It was at least in part a result of this trauma, my brother believes, that my father and his then-wife left Kissufim. How long did the family live there before they moved away, I asked. “A year,” Yosi said.

A year? Years of preparation, of scrounging for loans, trucks, and supplies; of recruiting people to join with them; of being a leader, a macher; of traveling abroad to recruit more members — and they left after a single year?

Yosi remembers his mother arranging for a truck, loading it up, and heading north to Kibbutz Kabri in the western Galilee, one of the kibbutzim on which the garin had trained in previous years. They left, he said, because his mother fought with everyone; she was a troublemaker. And because she and my father fought with each other, I assume. My parents’ shouts shook the walls of our house. I can only imagine what effect they would have had on a tight-knit, thin-walled kibbutz community.

In 1962, by then with four children, they were expelled from Kabri, apparently because their presence was intolerable and destructive to the group. My father took the children to Canada as kibbutz emissaries, where he attempted to found “Camp Kissufim,” a short-lived summer camp for North American kids. The place he had planned to spend his life was so close to his heart and imagination that he named his summer camp after it.

As my brother and I wandered the pathways of Kissufim, I tried to assimilate this information. The place is empty now, the surviving members evacuated to a hotel by the Dead Sea, only a few coming back during the day to work on repairing the damage of the Hamas attack. The buildings are burned and shot up; the gardens have returned to desert. The brightly painted cartoon murals on the bomb shelters are riddled with bullet holes. In the dining hall, we found a row of photographs from the first days of the kibbutz: groups of young people gathered together, working, laughing. My father is in none of these pictures.

I was reminded of how when I called the kibbutz historian after my father’s death and asked about burying his ashes in the cemetery, the man told me he had not heard of my father and could find no record of him. That my father was there at the founding of the kibbutz I have no doubt — I have a letter from September 15, 1949, written on official letterhead that reads in Hebrew and English, “Kissufim, Canadian Group,” with a return address of a post-office box in Rehovot — but what am I to make of the profound difference in magnitude between the role Kissufim played in his life, the role it played in the narrative of my family history, and the fact that he made so little an impression upon the place, his presence, which he described as critical to its formation, forgotten?

My father elided from his stories that the family was unable to stay in Kissufim and was then pushed out of Kabri. When he and his new wife, my mother, returned to Israel, they moved to Jerusalem not because she refused to live on a kibbutz, as he told me, but because he was not allowed back. He never admitted to me and perhaps even to himself that he had failed at the communal life for which he believed he was so suited. I am certain that even he didn’t know that this failure, according to my brother, was in part a result of the trauma of the war about which he never spoke.

Over the years, and especially after 1967 when Israel occupied the West Bank and Gaza, my father was forced to reckon with the “conflict,” the word he, like most Israelis, used to refer to the oppression of the Palestinian people. He supported “peace” and an end to occupation as part of the ethos of socialism and liberalism. My parents despised the Likud Party . They were members of Peace Now, an organization that works in opposition to the settlements and advocates for a two-state solution, and they donated to the New Israel Fund, a U.S.-based NGO that supports social justice and equality in Israel. In an interview on CBS Reports , my father denounced the military intertwinement of the U.S. and Israel and called for negotiation and peace. He celebrated the Oslo Accords and the efforts of Yitzhak Rabin toward a version, albeit a hollow one, of an independent Palestinian state, and he grieved when Rabin was murdered by a Jewish terrorist.

But this dream of a leftist version of Zionism, the dream my father nurtured for his entire life, cannot exist without denial of the crimes and atrocities committed both during the founding of the state and after. My father’s fantasy of his war years and of the years on kibbutz is one all but devoid of Arabs. In his letters, he writes little of the Palestinians who were displaced, and only then with a casual racism that jars me, referring to them derisively as “Abdullah.” He does not acknowledge that the “rocky spot south of Haifa” where he and the members of his garin learned how to farm was Kabara, once a Palestinian village of over 117 homes. He makes no mention of the village of Al-Zraiye, 2.2 kilometers from Kissufim: 4,790 people driven from their homes in 1948.

I don’t mean to single out my father in this. Israeli society as a whole has conspired to eradicate the memory of the more than 500 Palestinian villages depopulated and destroyed in 1948, the three-quarters of a million people expelled, despite attempts by some Jewish Israeli historians starting in the late 1980s to more accurately rewrite the narrative of the Nakba. This denial continues to this day.

A decade ago, I went to Hebron with a group that included Israeli journalists to see Al-Shuhada Street, a once-bustling Palestinian market on which only Jews and foreigners are now allowed to tread, the Palestinian residents having been either evicted or forced to enter their homes through rear doors and windows. Al-Shuhada Street had been “sterilized” of Palestinians more than a decade previous, but an Israeli journalist who joined this group kept murmuring in wonder, “It’s not to be believed.” This grotesque violation of human and civil rights was going on an hour and 15 minutes from her home in Tel Aviv, but she, a journalist and self-described leftist, had managed to keep from knowing anything about it.

The Jewish left in Israel has been in a downward spiral for decades. The social-democratic Labor Party dominated Israeli politics until 1977 and alternated power with Likud until the early aughts. According to Dahlia Scheindlin, an Israeli public-opinion researcher writing in Haaretz , “During the early 2000s, the portion of Jews who defined themselves as left wing dropped by half, from roughly 30 percent to about 15 percent,” and “by 2019, the left was drifting to the range of 11 to 14.” In the first few months after October 7, that number dropped to the single digits, though it has since crept back up to 12 percent.

The reasons for the left’s withering are numerous and well documented: They include the increase in the number of “revisionist Zionists” who assert Jewish dominion from the river to the sea and the political enfranchisement of Mizrahi Jews , whose families came primarily from the Middle East and North Africa. Israelis of Mizrahi ancestry are the country’s largest ethnic bloc and vote overwhelmingly for Likud and other parties further to the right. But a hardening against the Palestinians has spread throughout Israeli society, including on the left, a hardening that is reminiscent of the callous disregard with which my father and his fellow socialist Zionists held the people whose lands they appropriated. There is a phrase that Jewish Israelis who consider themselves left or centrist have taken to using since October 7: Hitpakachti . It means “I have sobered up,” from believing that peace is possible, from believing they can live alongside Palestinians.

Every Saturday night in Tel Aviv, thousands gather to protest against Netanyahu, a regular feature of many people’s weeks. “Let’s meet for dinner and a protest,” a friend said to me. There are a number of protests going on at the same time, each in its own designated area. In the center is the largest group, the Kaplanists (named for the square where they gather), organized around deposing Netanyahu and returning the hostages. The families of the hostages have their own areas. One group of families refrains from criticizing Netanyahu for fear of alienating him; the other is adamant that Netanyahu himself is what stands in the way of the hostages’ return. When I attended, I heard heartbreaking speeches from these family members, a mother berating Netanyahu for caring more about his political skin than her son’s life, a wife longing for her husband. People throughout the crowd held signs illustrated with the hostages’ faces. Yet in all those speeches, not once did I hear from the stage a denunciation of the war or any mention of the suffering of Palestinians in Gaza.

I have heard myriad stories from friends about this shift on the part of people who once considered themselves progressives. One recounted a conversation with someone very close to him, “an amazingly sweet, sweet guy who has always voted left of center, one of the last in Jerusalem fighting for liberal values,” who stated unequivocally that the Israeli government should allow no food aid into Gaza. “I know what a kind, loving, intelligent, smart person he is,” my friend said, but he was legitimizing starvation as a tactic to be used against civilians to pressure Hamas. In January, Yigal Mosko, a journalist who has written extensively about military and settler abuses in the West Bank, posted a tweet justifying the destruction of Gaza framed as a letter to the people.

Hello Gazans. You will soon return to your homes and find that they have been completely destroyed. You will clap your hands in despair and cry bitterly, “Why?” … Because of Kafir and Ariel and Shiri Bibas, because of the twin babies Guy and Roy Berdichevsky whose parents were murdered … When your heroic sons finished raping and murdering and entered Gaza with the abductees, you went out into the streets to cheer … You will now return to the same streets and will not recognize them. The buildings collapsed, the infrastructure was demolished, the roads were plowed with the tank chains. Yes, many thousands of you were also killed. What did you think would happen? … You don’t have a roof over your head to mourn them? Maybe dig a new hole, you’re good at that. You burned hundreds of millions on your terror tunnels instead of investing in a better future for your children.

Tomer Persico, a Jewish Israeli philosopher with a long career of advocating for freedom of religion in Israel, posted a tweet, since deleted, with images of Gazans taking advantage of a rare respite in the bombing to cool off in the ocean, implying that this moment gave the lie to claims of genocide.

Roni Aboulafia, a filmmaker and peace activist who believes a negotiated two-state solution is the only way forward, has a compassionate explanation for why even liberals and those who consider themselves humanists in Israel are not focused on the suffering of the people of Gaza. “We are all living through trauma,” she said. “Every day brings new stories of the horrors that survivors went through and are still going through. The hostage situation is a very, very painful open wound.” She added, “We are in a collective state of processing that limits our capacity to absorb Gazan pain and accept our accountability for it.”

Very few Israeli Jews even talk about what is happening in Gaza. When I asked why, I was told again and again that the Israeli media do not cover events on the ground. The public does not see images or hear stories of dead Palestinian children or devastated communities. Al Jazeera, the only network to reliably report on the horrors ongoing in Gaza, was recently banned in Israel. Yet we live in an interconnected world; we live online. Though it’s true that our social-media and news silos can isolate us from the views and opinions of others, it is hard to imagine that anything but a concerted effort could keep a person from knowing the toll the war has taken on Palestinian civilians.

This carefully nurtured ignorance reminds me of my father and his stories about kibbutz life in the 1940s, which never included raids across the border into Gaza, the driving out of villages full of people, the murder of civilians. It reminds me of another saying we learned in Hebrew school: “A land without a people for a people without a land.”

This denial is not ubiquitous, however. As I wandered through the crowds at the Saturday protests, I encountered a smaller group, many of them clad in the purple of Standing Together, a Jewish and Palestinian organization that supports coexistence. I found the Gush Neged haKibush, the Anti-Occupation Bloc, banging drums and demanding peace and an end to the war. You can wander among these various groups as in a shopping-mall food court. Buy a T-shirt here, take a poster of a hostage there. Shout an anti-Netanyahu slogan here, bang a drum against the occupation there.

We Jews are gifted in the art of memorialization, and you can watch the narrative of October 7 and its aftermath being created in real time. From the moment you step off the plane in Ben Gurion Airport, you see posters of the hostages. The images are everywhere in the country, in train stations, on billboards, and at “Hostages Square,” a rallying space that has grown up in a plaza in front of the Tel Aviv Museum of Art. There are tents for each community attacked, a merch table where you can purchase memorabilia like a “Bring Them Home” dog-tag necklace. There are art installations, including a long dining table set with empty seats, one for each hostage.

Close to Kissufim, at the sight of the Nova Music Festival, another memorial has sprung up, photographs of the dead nailed onto small posts, each growing from a nest of red ceramic flowers. There are tour buses in the parking lot, and the Hasidim have set up a Mitzvah Mobile like the ones you find on New York street corners with Orthodox men in sidelocks inviting Jews to light Shabbas candles. Ultrareligious families wander through the memorial looking at the photographs of young women they would have cursed had they seen them walking so scantily clad through their neighborhoods. I couldn’t bear to walk through what seemed to me a ghoulish tourist attraction exploiting these young victims.

The most troubling of these memorials is a mock Hamas tunnel made of concrete in Hostages Square. I feel almost ashamed of criticizing this installation, erected as it was by grieving and desperate families, but when I walked through the narrow, dim space, the walls decorated with posters of the hostages, messages to them scribbled in colorful marker, I felt bleak, not because it made me realize the hostages’ plight, trapped in the tunnels of Gaza. I ache for these people and for their agonized families, and I am enraged that the government has refused to prioritize a negotiation for their return. But to me, this tunnel felt, even more than the Nova memorial, like a grotesque theme park. For the majority of Jewish Israelis, the only grief they can feel is their own, the only dead worth mourning are their own.

Here is another family story, this time of my brother. Yosi was a proud officer in the IDF who fought bravely against Egyptian forces during the Yom Kippur War in the Battle of the Chinese Farm in the Sinai, saving the lives of many. He is the recipient of a medal of honor, a highly decorated hero of the land of Israel. But what he remembers most about the war is the mettle of his opponents, which came as a shock to him. He and his men had been indoctrinated with a narrative of supremacy in which victory was inevitable. “We were the super-people, and they were monkeys on the trees,” he said. Of a battalion of 350, 50 were killed, including most of the officers. Half of their soldiers were wounded. “They mopped the floor with us,” Yosi said. “They fought well .”

Yosi was seriously wounded, and immediately upon reaching the hospital, he could feel the trauma creeping up on him. He felt like a profound failure, an officer who had not protected his men. He had no one to talk to about this aside from other wounded soldiers. He told me he would wheel himself in his wheelchair from bed to bed, telling his story and listening to theirs. This is what he’s proud of, not his actions in the war. To this day, people reach out to him and tell him that by letting them talk, he helped them. When I asked Yosi if at that time or afterward he was able to talk to our father about their shared trauma, he looked at me as though I were crazy.

As he spoke about the supposed inferiority of Israel’s enemies, I couldn’t help but recall that line from one of my father’s letters about the Arabs being frightened by a “big boom.” The story of the Arabs’ cowardice was as much a fiction in 1973 as it was in 1948 — and as it was before October 7. “It was an enormous fuckup,” Yosi said of Netanyahu’s attempts to prop up Hamas, believing the group had lost the will to fight and could be isolated from the broader Palestinian cause. “We were completely betrayed.”

Only a country in deep denial could believe the Palestinians in Gaza would live in perpetually abject but passive misery. It is a denial so ingrained that Jewish Israelis extend it even to Palestinians who live outside the occupation in Israel proper. Yara Shahine Gharablé, a history graduate student and activist, encountered a Palestinian flag in Jerusalem during a school trip in eighth grade and only then realized that she herself was Palestinian. “I went to the internet and started reading, and at the end of the day I started crying,” she said. “I asked my mother about the Nakba; she’s like, ‘I do not want to talk about this. You’re making me nervous.’” Palestinians like herself, Shahine Gharablé says, feel that since October 7 there has been only one story they are expected and allowed to tell. Jewish friends asked why they had not heard her publicly condemn the Hamas invasion. “And I was like, and I haven’t been hearing from you since, I don’t know, 76 years,” she said. Since October 7, the divide has only grown between her and her Jewish classmates, including those she once considered allies and friends. “One community is going this way and the other is going this way, and it’s only getting escalated in a sharp way,” she said.

Inas Osrof AbuSeif, a Palestinian artist and photographer, lives in the same orchard her mother’s family has farmed for generations, the last Palestinian-owned orchard in the city of Jaffa. When Inas was growing up, there was no easily accessible Arab school, so she went to Jewish schools where she learned Hebrew instead of Arabic, the history of Israel, and even the Hebrew Bible, a required subject in the Israeli curriculum. “Every single thing in my identity is taken away from me,” she told me. “I taught myself how to read Arabic alone. I don’t know how to write.” She fell silent. “Even my thoughts,” she added sadly. “It’s all in Hebrew. I don’t think in Arabic.”

At home, she was instructed not even to utter the word Palestine for fear of being blacklisted or attacked. A year ago, she decided to embrace the word, to speak it aloud. But then Hamas attacked. “On the first day, the police came to our neighbor who posted something on social media, and it was like watching a horror movie. They came with 30, 40 police officers, and they were masked.” When I asked Osrof AbuSaif about the phrase Hitpakachti , she again fell quiet. After a moment, she said, “I don’t want to be in partnership. I don’t want to be in a place where I always have to convince the other side that I’m human and my kids are worth living.” Maybe, she said, she has also sobered up.

Her use of that phrase, of course, is spiked with an irony entirely missing when it is spoken by left and center-left Jewish Israelis for whom to sober up means to reject the possibility of coexistence, to embrace the canard that Israel has no “partner for peace” among a Palestinian community of more than 3 million people. By the upside-down, looking-glass logic of modern liberal Zionism, a person of conscience and principle becomes “sober” by embracing a willed oblivion, remembering only incidents of Palestinian terrorism and forgetting the generations of Palestinians who have sought redress through myriad legal and nonviolent ways. This “sobering up” is to focus on incidents of antisemitism on American college campuses, which are analyzed in excruciating detail in the Israeli and U.S. media. It is to embrace the balm of victimhood, to wrap ourselves in the mantle of an age-old hatred that led to the murder of 6 million — victimhood that has now been transferred to October 7, which is referred to again and again, including by Netanyahu and President Biden, as the worst tragedy the Jews have experienced since the Holocaust, in order to expiate the shame of the war in Gaza.

To “sober up” is to forget the 750,000 Palestinians expelled and the 500 villages destroyed in 1948 and the massacres and abuses since. It is to mourn the 1,139 murdered in the horrific massacre by Hamas on October 7, the 240 taken hostage, 70 of whom are believed to still be alive, while ignoring the tens of thousands killed in Gaza, among them aid workers and physicians, the elderly and women, and children dismembered and burned alive.

Erez Crossing was formerly the sole pedestrian entry point between the northern Gaza Strip and Israel. It was through Erez that the few Gazans with jobs in Israel would travel when such travel was permitted. It was there that leftist residents, many of them elderly, from the kibbutzim in what’s known as the Gaza Envelope, the area of Israeli territory that wraps Gaza from the north and east, would wait for the patients needing medical treatment and drive them to appointments at Israeli hospitals. And it was the Erez Crossing that the Izz ad-Din al-Qassam Brigades took control of in the attack they called Operation Al-Aqsa Flood, which the Israelis know by its date in the same shorthand of catastrophe as 9/11.

I was there on the dusty road at the invitation of Rabbi Alissa Wise, founder of Rabbis for Ceasefire. It’s Passover, she said, and the Haggadah’s instructions are clear.  Ha Lachma Anya : “Let all who are hungry come and eat.” The irony of reciting these words at a Seder while famine in Gaza is imminent, with fully half of the population experiencing catastrophic food insecurity, was more than these religious leaders could bear. As Rabbi Brant Rosen, of Congregation Tzedek Chicago, told me, “The only way I could honestly say those words this year was while I was literally carrying food provisions toward the Gaza border.”

The plan was simple. The group would fill a pickup truck with basic foodstuffs — half a ton of flour and rice — and drive as close as possible to the Erez Crossing. When we were stopped, as was inevitable, we would take what we could in our arms and push forward. Few actually expected the small convoy to make it all the way to the border. The Israeli military controls the area. That the action was symbolic, however, did not defeat its purpose. What, after all, is religion if not a conglomeration of symbols? Matzo, which many of the rabbis carried, symbolizes the bread of the poor, the bread of liberation. The tallits they wore symbolize the word of God. There’s nary a word spoken or an action taken in any religion that is not primarily symbolic.

When we arrived, we were greeted by police officers clad in black body armor, standard-issue machine guns slung over their backs. Reinforcements in the form of a tank eventually arrived. We began walking alongside the pickup full of food. Somehow, without noticing it, perhaps because I was buoyed by adrenaline, I ended up ahead of the group, a bag of rice on my shoulder, a white flag in my hand. My path was blocked by a police officer. I shuffled right, he shuffled with me. I moved left, he did too. We engaged in this synchronized waltz for a few moments until the others caught up.

At this point, a few of the rabbis stepped forward to speak, including Avi Dabush, the director of Rabbis for Human Rights. Dabush is a resident of Kibbutz Nirim and a survivor of the October 7 attacks. He, his wife, and her children spent eight hours in their shelter listening as Hamas militants swarmed the kibbutz. On Nirim, five people were murdered and five others taken hostage. Dabush told the assembled group that the only hope for his children, his kibbutz, and all “from the river to the sea, Palestinians and Israelis” is to have peace. “This is the meaning of Pesach, the liberation of all people. If you have power, don’t use it against the other.”

When the police began pushing us to the side of the road, we sat down. Rabbi Alana Alpert of Congregation T’chiyah in Detroit led us in songs I remembered from Zionist summer camp. We raised our arms to show we were not a threat, and the police began picking us off one by one. I was arrested soon after Rabbi Wise. Some of the officers were more hostile than others, one or two grabbed me harder than might have been necessary to haul off a 59-year-old, five-foot-tall woman recently diagnosed with osteoporosis, but I was neither bruised nor hurt. I spent nine and a half hours in the Ashkelon police department in relative comfort, in an office rather than a cell, before being interrogated and then released.

As I sat for those long hours in the police station, I tried to make sense of this experience in the context of both my family history and the history of the Israeli peace movement. While the dwindling of the Israeli left is a tragedy, the reality is that in some way there never was an Israeli left to begin with. People like my father defined themselves as socialists devoted to the eradication of class distinction; democratic control over political, economic, and industrial institutions; and, as he wrote, “the interests of the commune” over their own self-interest. But their commune, their classless society, was composed exclusively of Jews. It was as if it had never occurred to him or them that the Palestinians who lived on the land they viewed as the Jewish homeland were also people who had a fundamental right to be part of it.

But even if liberal Zionism is rotten to its core, there are still millions of Palestinians and Jews between the river and the sea, and none of them are going anywhere. And so the remnant of the Israeli left protests. They give testimonies to Breaking the Silence, they get arrested while demonstrating, they act as a buffer between the trucks carrying food to Gaza and the violent religious Jewish extremists trying to destroy that food. Jews and Palestinians create common cause in organizations like Standing Together and A Land for All. And I carry a bag of rice to a checkpoint a mile from the Gaza border knowing full well it will never reach its destination.

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Depletion of major groundwater source threatens Great Plains farming

Stephanie Sy Stephanie Sy

Mary Fecteau Mary Fecteau

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• Copy URL https://www.pbs.org/newshour/show/depletion-of-major-groundwater-source-threatens-great-plains-farming

In the heart of the country, Great Plains farmers and ranchers produce a quarter of all U.S. crops and 40 percent of its beef. But they rely on a resource that has been slowly drying up, water. Stephanie Sy reports from Kansas for our series on the impact of climate change, Tipping Point.

Read the Full Transcript

Notice: Transcripts are machine and human generated and lightly edited for accuracy. They may contain errors.

Geoff Bennett:

In the heart of the country, Great Plains farmers and ranchers produce a quarter of all U.S. crops and 40 percent of our beef. But they rely on a resource that has been slowly drying up, water.

Stephanie Sy reports from Kansas for our ongoing series on climate change and water, Tipping Point.

Brant Peterson, Kansas Farmer:

So this is a small glimpse of what the Dust Bowl-type situation was.

Stephanie Sy:

Brant Peterson farms grain in dry Southwestern Kansas, where erratic winds can whip dust into the sky at a moment's notice. It's difficult land to farm, but Peterson is committed.

Brant Peterson:

My wife and I are both fifth-generation farmers raising the sixth generation. We have been to a lot of droughts. I won't say that it's any worse than anybody else had, but I just do know that what I have had to deal with has been tough.

Farms like Peterson's are a vital part of the global food system. Much of the grain he grows heads to the massive cattle feedlots that surround him in Western Kansas, powering the state's multibillion-dollar beef industry. Nearly a quarter of all the steaks on our dinner plates come from Kansas.

Katie Durham, Kansas Groundwater Management District 1: We are completely dependent on agriculture. It is the lifeblood of our communities.

Katie Durham runs the Groundwater Management District in West Central Kansas.

Katie Durham:

You just drive around town and anything from our banks to the implement dealers, anything that you see in town is all tightly related to agriculture.

And the agricultural industry here relies on one increasingly scarce resource.

Without groundwater, we would really cease to exist.

Nearly all the groundwater in Western Kansas is tapped from the Ogallala Aquifer, a massive reservoir that runs under parts of eight states from South Dakota to Texas.

But as the darker color on this map shows, parts of the aquifer, especially in Texas, Oklahoma and Western Kansas, are in deep decline. That's a problem because the economy here relies on water-intensive crops, namely corn.

Brownie Wilson, Kansas Geological Survey:

We don't have the streams. It's raining right now a little bit, and that's kind of a little bit unusual. But what we do have is the Ogallala Aquifer underneath our feet.

Brownie Wilson of the Kansas Geological Survey regularly measures the water levels at wells like this one throughout Kansas. He's seen some wells drop more than 100 feet since 2001.

Brownie Wilson:

What we're doing now is not sustainable. We track every year the water levels are dropping. I have seen more places where the aquifer just physically cannot support the pumping demands anymore.

Depletion between the different layers of the aquifer.

The depletion isn't uniform. Durham describes the aquifer's topography as an egg carton.

You have these pits and valleys, and it's very, very dynamic, and that's why we call it saturated thickness. And so some areas are going to have more saturated thickness than others. Likewise, some areas are going to have more decline.

Unfortunately, Peterson is in one of those areas in Southwest Kansas seeing the state's steepest declines in groundwater.

I have abandoned over half the wells on my farm. They're not feasible to pump anymore. Now, if I wanted to be a water baron, yes, I could pump all year long and make something happen out of it, but I can't sleep at night doing that.

Because you know how that ends.

I know where it ends.

Does that end with the end of livelihoods?

Yes, but what worries me more is the communities and the people. That's what you see suffering. You see the communities drying up with the water.

Peter Gleick, Co-Founder, Pacific Institute:

The overdraft of the Ogallala Aquifer is the result of a whole series of factors.

Climate scientist Peter Gleick co-founded the Pacific Institute, a global water think tank based in California.

Peter Gleick:

In part, it's because farmers have brought a tremendous amount of land into production and that requires a lot of water. In part, it's because climate change is reducing the amount of water going to recharge those aquifers.

According to Gleick, rising temperatures mean crops require more water to grow, even while more intense heat causes rainfall to evaporate before it can reach the ground.

There's also a long established link between climate change and drought, like the one Kansas experienced in 2022, causing record low precipitation in seven Western communities.

A lot of what we're seeing in the Ogallala Aquifer, the depletion of groundwater, we also see, for example, in the Central Valley of California, where every year we see massive overdraft of groundwater.

And in southern part of the San Joaquin Valley in California, we're going to see a lot of land come out of production. We have to bring groundwater back into balance, or there's going to be serious disruptions of our food system.

While past generations of farmers saw heavy water use as key to success, attitudes are changing.

Steve Compton, Kansas Farmer:

The green zone is the optimal range for the moisture ought to be for this crop.

Steve Compton grows weed and other grains on thousands of acres in Scott County, Kansas, using a tablet to carefully manage his sprinklers.

Steve Compton:

In years past, when it would rain, everybody would just leave their systems on and let them run. And now, everybody's so conscious of that, when we can get supplemental rain, there's no reason to keep them running.

I like the way those spin around and all the nature just drops around.

Compton, who became a quadriplegic after a car accident, has always relied on technology to run the farm with his father, Ted.

We can look at that thing on the Internet and we know instantly what the level of moisture is within that ground out there. So we know, after a rain, whether we can turn off for a while and conserve some water.

Even though none of the wells on his farm have run dry, Compton, along with all the other farmers in his county and three neighboring counties, have committed to cutting their water use by up to 25 percent.

Katie Durham worked with farmers to pass local agreements to manage and implement water use reductions in her district following success with them in Northwestern Kansas.

People really saw this as an opportunity to take local control. I probably sat with a few hundred people just having conversations about what this meant, how it would affect them. And I think really the big question was, what is going to happen if we don't do something?

For Compton, it's about being a good steward of the land and resources.

The farmer loves the land and he loves what he does. And we're going to do whatever we can to maintain that type of life and to be able to pass that on.

Back down in Southwest Kansas, which has seen the steepest declines, no restrictions are in place to control overpumping.

Everybody has a right to drive themselves into bankruptcy, but somebody's got to stop, somebody's got to back off. And so that's what I did. And I have sought other technologies to help me be more efficient.

The challenge is the fun part. The sadness of, yes, we're losing the water, that's what stinks.

He's invested in a new irrigation system that uses water more efficiently, and he's begun to replace thirsty corn crops with fields of sorghum, a resilient grain that can be used to feed cattle and people.

Overall, Peterson has reduced his water use by 15 percent. And for him, that means his sons may have a shot at carrying on the family business.

Conserving the water is a big part of them having the opportunity to be successful here, to have a sound economy around them to support the operation. And that would be fantastic.

Whether or not the voluntary conservation efforts of farmers will be enough to preserve the way of life here remains as uncertain as any given day's weather in Western Kansas.

For the PBS "NewsHour," I'm Stephanie Sy.

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Stephanie Sy is a PBS News Hour correspondent and serves as anchor of PBS News Hour West. Throughout her career, she served in anchor and correspondent capacities for ABC News, Al Jazeera America, CBSN, CNN International, and PBS News Hour Weekend. Prior to joining NewsHour, she was with Yahoo News where she anchored coverage of the 2018 Midterm Elections and reported from Donald Trump’s victory party on Election Day 2016.

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They Came for Spiritual Revival, Only to Be Trapped in a Deadly Panic

Family members streamed to hospitals in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh to identify loved ones after at least 121 people — nearly all women — died in a stampede at a guru’s gathering.

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By Suhasini Raj

Reporting from Hathras District, at the site of the event in India

One moment, a crowd of tens of thousands, almost all women, were singing and swaying in devotion to a revered holy man in front of them onstage, all packed under a sprawling tent in northern India.

But as the guru left, people began pushing and shoving to get out from the close quarters and still, stifling heat under the pavilion. Some began falling, onto the muddy field underneath or into an adjacent ditch. There was panic and screaming. Bodies piled on top of each other everywhere.

By nightfall on Tuesday, the toll of the tragedy in Hathras district, in the state of Uttar Pradesh, was devastating: at least 121 people, mostly from poor communities, were dead. Dozens were injured.

For the families, the search for the remains of their loved ones brought them to several hospitals and stretched on past midnight.

At the Bagla Combined District Hospital, where 34 victims were taken, the dead bodies lay on melting slabs of ice that lined the corridor. Faces bore the marks of the ghastly stampede from the afternoon — a blob of mud hanging from hair, dried trickles of blood on skin. The corridor’s green carpet was drenched with slush and mud from the shoes and slippers of distraught relatives.

Approximate site

of stampede

National Highway 34

Phulrai Mughal Garhi

Phulrai Mughal

Source: Satellite image by Maxar Technologies

By Veronica Penney

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