Farmer Adrian
Farmer Adrian
31st August 1941 – 2nd November 2022
Just 18 months on from losing our faithful sheepdog Flash, the farm suffered a giant blow this week when our wonderful Adrian passed away.
In the early hours of the morning of Wednesday 2nd November, as the rising sun shone through the window behind him, Adrian peacefully left us. Sooner than any of us wanted, but, just as he had hoped it might happen, he was at home, and we were with him.
For many years I have been working with dad to edit out his most exciting of auto corrects, and spelling mistakes, ahead of sending out his blog to you all. Whether it was asking if I had any photos, or whether I had been able to proof yet, the blog became our weekly focus together.
Over the last fortnight we had some opportunity to talk about this, his last blog, clarity coming in the last days when, tired, and with few words to hand, Dad realised he could make his farewell through poems that shared his mood. In that moment, he was greatly amused to reel out a little ditty of his own:
Advice for those supporting somebody dying,
poems read together while they’re beside you lying,
to greater hosts they take to flying,
and will of course, leave you crying…
So, here are the few that we were able to enjoy, from the infinite many.
Sophie.
Following When I have Fears That I May Cease to Be by John Keats, and Nod by Walter De La Mare wasn’t straightforward, but we felt this one was ‘alright’.
When Great Trees Fall by Maya Angelou
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.
Looking back to his well mentioned Cornish roots, this is for ‘Mary Anne’ – Dad’s “Everything”:
Cornish Sea Shanty – Mary Anne
The early sun is rising, and this bag weighs down my shoulder
I can’t get back to bed, even though I want to hold ya
Those bills they scream for payin’ so the storm we got to soldier
As you lay, I slip away, I whisper my regrets
It breaks my heart to see you sad
Time will not look back, until then
Mary Anne won’t you wake, tell me you still love me and I know I’ll be ok
Mary Anne say you’ll stay, keep the fire burning ’till it guides me home again
This coat is getting heavy, but the rain it keeps me sober
Waking up alone again, it’s a hard thing t’get over
I count the days to shore as every minute brings me closer
Saying goodbye, that’s a lie, our aching hearts forget
Waves form when I sing louder
Soon, his arms will be around, her again
Mary Anne won’t you wake, tell me you still love me and I know I’ll be ok
Mary Anne tell me you’ll stay, keep the fire burning ’till it guides me home again
It breaks my heart to see you sad
Time will not look back, until then
Mary Anne won’t you wake, tell me you still love me and I know I’ll be ok
Mary Anne say you’ll stay, keep the fire burning ’till it guides me home again
For childhood, those past, and yet to come; for Jessica, Brendan and Alice; for the wonder that is A. A. Milne
Buckingham Palace by A. A. Milne
They’re changing guard at Buckingham Palace –
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
Alice is marrying one of the guard.
“A soldier’s life is terrible hard,”
Says Alice.
They’re changing guard at Buckingham Palace –
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We saw a guard in a sentry-box.
“One of the sergeants looks after their socks,”
Says Alice.
They’re changing guard at Buckingham Palace –
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We looked for the King, but he never came.
“Well, God take care of him, all the same,”
Says Alice.
They’re changing guard at Buckingham Palace –
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
They’ve great big parties inside the grounds.
“I wouldn’t be King for a hundred pounds,”
Says Alice.
They’re changing guard at Buckingham Palace –
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
A face looked out, but it wasn’t the King’s.
“He’s much too busy a-signing things,”
Says Alice.
They’re changing guard at Buckingham Palace –
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
“Do you think the King knows all about me?”
“Sure to, dear, but it’s time for tea,”
Says Alice.
To remind us that life is for loving, living and laughing:
OH, I WISH I’D LOOKED AFTER MY TEETH by Pam Ayres
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me teeth,
And spotted the perils beneath,
All the toffees I chewed,
And the sweet sticky food,
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me teeth.
I wish I’d been that much more willin’
When I had more tooth there than fillin’
To pass up gobstoppers,
From respect to me choppers
And to buy something else with me shillin’.
When I think of the lollies I licked,
And the liquorice allsorts I picked,
Sherbet dabs, big and little,
All that hard peanut brittle,
My conscience gets horribly pricked.
My Mother, she told me no end,
“If you got a tooth, you got a friend”
I was young then, and careless,
My toothbrush was hairless,
I never had much time to spend.
Oh I showed them the toothpaste all right,
I flashed it about late at night,
But up-and-down brushin’
And pokin’ and fussin’
Didn’t seem worth the time… I could bite!
If I’d known I was paving the way,
To cavities, caps and decay,
The murder of fiIlin’s
Injections and drillin’s
I’d have thrown all me sherbet away.
So I lay in the old dentist’s chair,
And I gaze up his nose in despair,
And his drill it do whine,
In these molars of mine,
“Two amalgum,” he’ll say, “for in there.”
How I laughed at my Mother’s false teeth,
As they foamed in the waters beneath,
But now comes the reckonin’
It’s me they are beckonin’
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me teeth.
For our friends over the many years, all those who came to the Farm to help, to learn, to support as we learnt, and to share their skills and art with us. The butterfly – thank you Danny; the poem sent to Dad from a dear friend:
Untitled Poem by Emily Dickinson
In the name of the bee,
And of the butterfly,
And of the breeze,
Amen
Throughout these working years – be it farming or education, purpose has always been the key. After all, You will not be good teachers if you focus only on what you do and not upon who you are. Rudolf Steiner.
So, this is it. “Thank you to Chris and Anne for helping make this dream, this opportunity of ours, happen; thank you to Tim for your steadfast work, thank you to the WWOOFers, all of whom have brought something special to our lives, and thank you to my blog readers for your feedback and interest, and for allowing me to share the farm news and my thoughts with you.
Farming – farming is a vocation, a purpose, a conscious act that requires us to give the land and the animals all our respect and curiosity possible.
Thank you, Rush Farm, for giving me so much over these last years. For the rest of you, live life to the full and love hard.”
Adrian.
Adrian has been a guiding light for all the many lives who have been fortunate to cross his path – and in this, we include ourselves. No simple ‘teacher’, but a soul guide who had the gift to show us all how to live life fully, surrounded by love.
At his request, there will be no great funeral, so please, raise a glass, lead a toast, wish him well, and wish us all well, all the poorer for losing him, but so much richer for knowing him.