Nature's Lesson

[WHEELER 10]

From France, I moved back into Switzerland. I returned to the Canton of Ticino, to the village of Loco in Valle Osernone. This was the Swiss Alps. Valle Osernone had no valley floor, it was a river between two huge mountain ranges. A single road ran on the high right side of the valley. The houses and roofs were all made out of field stone without mortar. Though much of the valley was covered in forests, some of it was terraced by stone walls. Valle Osernone was known as Robber Valley or the Valley of Starvation. The main staple through the 1800s, believe it or not, was corn. The terraced land was of dual purpose. Much hay was grown and stone pillars that stood 6ft or higher held up poles of grape vines.

 

I looked up a farmer that I knew from the year before and began working for him. He lived on the opposite side of the village of Loco; on the other side of the valley. It was a three mile walk to his house from the village; down one side, over the river, and half way up again. He and his wife and two children lived on a small farm with four cows, a goat and a small vegetable garden. The only road was in Loco. I spent that summer working for him and I learned a lot from him.

 

We cut hay with a scythe four hours in the morning in the village in Loco, a lot of it under grape arbors. In the afternoon, we would spread out the hay or go out to previously cut hay and turn it over. After the hay was dry, about four days time, we would pack it in round rope nets; roll it up the adjoining terrace and heave it up onto our backs. It took whole afternoons sometimes, to carry 9-16 rolls of dried baled hay to the teleferico. (He had a small cable system from the village to his farm.) I would lay down in the box and traverse 800 ft above the valley floor to the farm. Next, he would send the hay over. Once the hay was hauled over, I would roll the bales into the upper part of the barn, unravel the net, spread out the hay and tamp it down by walking on it for a good 20 minutes.

 

One particular afternoon, we came to a field of what-I-thought was dried hay. I said, Lets pick it up. And his reply was, Its not right. My jaw hit the ground. (I heard this expression in the Marine Corps. We were constantly harangued to do things right because our lives on the battlefield depended on this.) I was stunned to hear this answer. I asked him what did he mean. He said, It has got to be just right: if the hay was not dry enough, when it got to the barn it would start to rot and this rot would spread ruining all the rest. Without a car, no money (for he was very poor) and probably 3-6 ft of snow, where would he get new hay? If the hay was left out too long, the sun would cook out all the nutrients, the cows would grow weak and sick and the secondary cause would be that his children, drinking the milk, would not get the nutrients that they needed. I would be facing death in the middle of January, he said, Everything has got to be just right.

 

This was the meaning and the importance of Aristotles golden mean. It was also the importance of the Delpic oracle saying, Nothing in Excess. This man was smarter than any nuclear scientist. Life or Death rested on this modality of Righteousness. His life depended on doing every thing right like the soldiers job depended on doing every thing right on the battlefield. The difference between doing something right or wrong, was the difference between life or death. This lesson brought home the stark reality of Nature. There is no second chance with Nature. She will kill you in a heartbeat. It is the wise and prudent man that beats her to the punch.