Just west of Hunter River, we crest another rolling hill of
which Central Queen's PEI is noted for. Both passengers in the vehicle, my youngest daughter
and I cast a lingering glance backwards over hill and dale our gaze caught in full by the piercing beauty of the rising moon.
If ever a skyscape could be called a moonscape, this was
one. The moon, one day shy of full, rose majestically above layers of billowy
colour blanketing the sky. Quite literally breathtaking, the depth of inky blue
which rested upon an even deeper layer of pinky melon looked intentional. It nestled upon the darkening, green hills, seemingly upholding the boldly glowing upturned face of
the soon to be full harvest moon. A sight of supreme gentleness that only true unadulterated beauty can lay claim
to, this was the scene which caught my breath.
On our way west of Charlottetown, to the small town of
Kensington to pay our last respects to a pioneer in the local, organic agriculture
movement, our friend Raymond Loo, we couldn't help but make the connection
between the passing of such a well loved and respected Island farmer and the
beauty of the sky that evening, the eve of Raymond's wake, and the eve of the Harvest
Moon.
My eight year old daughter who wanted to join me in bidding
Raymond farewell and in expressing condolences to his grieving family, noted
the fact that Raymond's wake was held under such a beautiful sky.
"It's like the Harvest Moon is for Raymond...because he
was a farmer, he harvested so much." was her knowing response.
Instantly, upon hearing of Raymond's passing away from cancer
earlier in the week, I felt veiled in a sadness that was confusing to me. He was
not a family member, or even a close
friend, rather simply an acquaintance whose lifestyle I admired. Yet the more I reflected on the roots of my sadness, the more clearly I understood how deeply his presence had touched my life.
After meeting
Raymond at the local Farmer's Market many years ago my husband and I purchased both organic beef and vegetables from Raymond and
his family. Anytime we would see each other, most often at the Charlottetown
Farmers Market, I would stop and have a sometimes lengthy chat with him about
what he was up to with his farming and about the state of agriculture on this
fair Island of ours. Despite facing industry challenges enough to frustrate even
the most patient person, Raymond maintained a steadfastness and enthusiasm in
the pursuit of organic farming that was quite remarkable. The sense of
earnestness, and the energy he brought to any conversation we shared was
pleasantly unique and left me feeling inspired and uplifted each time we
spoke because I knew that he applied that very earnestness and enthusiasm to his farming.
I recall Raymond getting worked up during one of our conversations over
someone calling soil "dirt". He apparently corrected the wrongdoer,
asserting his belief that dirt was something altogether different from the
nutrient rich humus in which he grew a wide array of organic crops and upon which his
livelihood depended.
His smile was as wide as a broad brimmed hat, his heart as
big as his dream for seeing PEI become a leader in the world by becoming an Organic Island. He shared the view that changing
methods of farming away from the highly industrial, chemical laden method we
have come to expect as normal, and somehow necessary for the large scale production of food, towards
a more sustainable method of farming as practiced by the organic agriculture
movement in which he played a key role, would be a boon for the agriculture industry in particular and the Island as a whole. Often we would talk about me potentially writing about what he does;
about the joys and challenges of farming organically. Other times we would
discuss how mainstream commercial agriculture eventually drove my family and I
out of our little country home into the suburbs where our well water would not
be contaminated with ever increasing levels of nitrates, our country property
bordered on three sides and across the highway on a fourth, by heavily sprayed
fields owned by Big Business in the production of french fries for an
international market.
In fact, the last time I spoke with Raymond, in June of this
year at this booth at the market, he extended an invitation to my kids and I to
visit his farm so the kids could see firsthand what a working organic farm was
like. At the time Raymond had been battling the cancer which he would eventually succumb to, for
several months. Although he had evidently lost weight as a result of his
illness, he still had the ruddy colour of a farmer in late spring, and his
genuine enthusiasm for sharing a love of farming with the next generation was
still exceedingly evident.
Sadly, and despite giving him my word that in the next several
weeks he would see an email in his account from me checking to see what day
might work best for us to visit, I didn't take him up on his generous
offer. Life got in the way. My days consumed with finishing off what had been
the first partial year of homeschooling our three children along with full time
babysitting my not yet two year old niece, meant I simply did not set aside a day to
make the trek out to his farm. For this I will forever harbor a sense of
regret. I didn't make the time, and then Raymond's illness soon after
took a turn for the worse, ultimately culminating this week in his death. That sense
of regret, coupled with feelings of sadness for his family; his boys whom he
spoke so fondly of in our conversations, as well as for his still- too -young
to be without a father daughter (the apple of his eye) and his wife, too young
to be a widow, as well as the deep sense of loss I felt for the organic
agriculture movement, both local and national, of which he was an intrinsic
part: all of this I carried in my heart as we looked upon that harvest moon
swelling in the early evening, mid September sky as we drove through the heartland of agriculture on PEI, to Raymond's wake.
Goodness, to me, could be described as choosing to make those choices which lead towards living more gently, thoughtfully, more sustainably and with a greater respect and zest for life. I realize now that I am wholeheartedly
attracted to the energy of those who day- by- day attempt, despite their
human-ness, to lead lives that leave the world a better, more hopeful place.
Without reservation I can say that I returned many's a time to converse with
Mr. Raymond Loo, ordinary and extra-ordinary man, because of having an
intuitively deep sense of his hard earned desire to make his small corner of
our little Island a better, healthier, more life enhancing place to live.
My deep and sincere condolences on Raymond's death go out to Raymond's family
and to all those touched by Raymond's sense of life. The harvest moon has taken
a fine one as its own. This coming week we celebrate all things organic on PEI...let us
not soon forget the wonderful contribution Raymond made by his example in the
field of organic agriculture. Let us continue on in our efforts to support small scale local organic producers such as Raymond's family's farms. After all, the security of our food is gently held in their knowing hands.
Sincerley,
Jill MacCormack
all these and more I want to walk unwittingly into, and feel
them cover me so that I have to touch my own fingers to my skin and wipe them
down over me and roll them into a fine thread. I will then spin that thread of
loss of possibility into a fine silk that shimmers with the hope that’s present
in this very moment. And with this graceful hope I will see my old spider webs
in a new light. They will carry on them the dew of life giving waters, the
glimmer of light that we each carry within us. They will be welcomed and made
good use of and my aching will have grown wings and become love.
