The Harvest At Kha Po
Many years ago, definitely a long time before I was here, I have been taught that
my elders, who were once young, farmed and gathered the crops for the oncoming
It was their only way of surviving through the cold months. Is this something I
have experienced? Yes and no.
I think about those people who left me with an imprint of my pueblo life now……..
Giving me a sense of what it took both mentally and physically to endure feeding your
I have seen pictures of Santa Clara Pueblo when the harvest took place. Piles and
piles of corn, squash, beans and whatever else could be kept dry and safe to feed
Makes me think of what I have now,
I was born in a modern society……………..
Food available most of the time, my folks tried but there were times when food was
little. I learned to never complain about what I was fed, it was either feast or
I became resourceful, thoughtful, and fearful of human famine.
It drives me now to garden, leave less of an imprint (even thought I fail miserably
I become more fearful of life as in today’s world it is very hard to see the positive,
But, I do
It is here, in our people, the Mother Earth, the Universe.
I have to believe that the horse and wagon I have painted is still something to
cling to, a simpler life, less words spoken all of the time, solitude and just a sense of
slowing down and learning that my human society is filled with so much noise,
That silence sometimes allows me to ponder
My ancestor’s journey………..
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