I met him decades ago.  Yet it seems like only yesterday!  He lived on a two-hundred acre farm that had been in his family for generations.  He had farmed the land for more than sixty years.  He was as much a product of the land as any crop he ever grew.  He was ramrod straight and wiry; there wasn't an ounce of fat on his slender frame.  His face was dark from all those years out in the sun.  When he smiled it cracked open, exposing pale wrinkles around his eyes, like brittle earth after a lengthy drought.  His hands were very expressive; gnarled by years of holding the reins as he drove his team back and forth across his memorized fields plowing,...seeding,...cultivating,... harvesting,...plowing.  His eyes were a special shade of blue.  They looked as though they had been stolen from an early April sky.  Behind the eyes was contentment--a peace of mind I have seldom found in others.
     We met that day on the porch of his white frame farmhouse.  I had come ambling up the twisted path to his front door.  I was young...freshly graduated from college...holding my first job...in a word: inexperienced.  I was working for a small-town bank.  My duty: to find out why this certain farmer had become somewhat delinquent in repaying a modest personal loan.
     "Good morning," I said, forcing myself to be as cheerful as possible, trying to hide my transparent self-consciousness.
     He merely nodded.
     "I'm Shawn Duncan from the Farmers and Merchants National Bank," I continued trying to sound important.
     "Ugh...huh," he replied; as if I was hardly unexpected.
     "I'm here to talk with you about your loan."
     "Like some fresh cider, Mr. Duncan,...make it myself?"
     "Err,...well, that would be nice," I stammered, caught entirely off guard.
     "Com'on in," he said pulling open the creaky screen door and leading me into his bright kitchen.  He motioned me to sit down at a beautiful, hand-rubbed hardwood table, its wonderfully-grainy texture pleasing to the touch.  He opened an old porcelain refrigerator, extracted a large jug of cider, and poured each of us a glass.  I don't think I've ever tasted anything in my life better than that cider.
     "This is wonderful!" I enthused.
     "Glad you like it," he said returning my smile.
     Just then a breeze sprang up,making the curtains at the kitchen window dance.  "H-m-m-m-m", he mused, "seem to have some weather on the way."
     "R-e-e-a-l-l-y???" I asked dubiously.
     "Think so...we'll check it out in a bit," he paused. "Ever do any farmin'?"
     "Never,...sir."
     "Thought so.  A breeze like this tells me something is on the way.  Farmin' you learn to read the smallest signs.  Those weather forecasters on the radio with all their fancy charts and graphs...they would be better off with a nose that can smell the rain comin' and a pair of eyes that can notice the little clues in nature that tell you whether its going to be a harsh winter or a mild one."
     "That right???"
     Again he merely nodded.  We finished our cider... relishing every drop of the amber nectar.
     "Like to take a walk around the farm?" he offered.
     "Well, I suppose I really should be getting...YES!" I heard myself saying.
     We walked out in to the sunlight, out past the ample barn and scattered outbuildings, across fields of wheat and corn, oats and soybeans.
     "Can't farm any more," he said softly, "but never lost my love of watchin' things grow.  Have all this on shares.  Neighbor farmer has a big spread.  This ain't much to him...but...it's a lot to me!"
     "I'm sure it is," I said losing my self-consciousness with every word.
     "Looks like we should have a good wheat crop...corn apt to be spotty though."
     "How...how can you tell?  Why it's barely out of the ground!"  I made no attempt to disguise the doubt in my voice.
     "You know, it's kind of hard to explain.  It's a feel you get havin' spent all those years farmin'.  You...you just sense it.  It's not that you can tell from just lookin' at something."
     "Amazing," I replied, again making no effort to hide the awe in my voice.
     Slowly..."we knew no haste"...we wound our way back to the house.
     "Thanks a lot for comin' to see me, Mr. Duncan.  I hope you'll come again soon."  He shook my hand with a delightfully-firm grip.  "Oh, by the way, let me get you a few squash to take along with you.  I've got some out back.  Be just a minute."
     He reappeared with a large paper sack full of zucchini.  "Know how to fix `em?" he inquired.
     "Well,...as a matter of fact, NO."
     "Well, let me tell you.  It's real simple.  All you have to do is slice `em up thin, flour `em, salt and pepper `em, and pan fry `em in butter.  You'll never taste anything better in your life...I'll guarantee it!"  He looked at the sky which was still a crystal-lake blue, sniffed the air pensively, and then said matter of factly: "should be rainin' `bout the time you get back to town."
     "HOW DO YOU KNOW???  The sky is clear.  There isn't a cloud anywhere!"
     "I can smell the rain."
     "You-can-smell-the-rain?"  I asked in total disbelief.
     "Go ahead try."
     I sniffed tentatively...then harder.  I didn't smell anything.  "Guess I haven't developed that knack yet," I apologized.
     "Work on it.  In time you will."
     I got back in my car and headed toward the Bank.  As I pulled into a parking place, the rain started.
     My hands were sweaty, my throat parched...oh, what I wouldn't have given for a glass of that fresh apple cider!  "What," I asked myself, "am I ever going to tell my boss?"
     "Well?"  Banker Browne inquired, his brow furrowed.
     "Well...I had a nice trip out to see him.  He has got a beautiful farm."
     "The LOAN, when's he going to pay off the loan???"
     "Don't worry, Mr. Browne, I'm sure he'll pay it.  He's got all his land farmed out on shares, and, when the crops come in, I'm sure he will be able to repay the loan in full."
     "That what he said?"  Banker Browne asked suspiciously.
     "Yes...yes I think that is what he was saying."
     Banker Browne just shook his head, doubtless wondering why he had ever sent me out there in the first place.
     "He also gave me some squash.  Would you like some?"
     "I send you out for cash, and you come back with SQUASH?!" his voice oozed with contempt!
     I said "no...no I came back with a lot more than that!"
     It wasn't long before I left the Bank...and banking...the small town and the Midwest.  Seems that about all I took with me was a tired old valise, a powerful taste for apple cider, a dandy recipe for fried zucchini, and a nose for rain.  Yet somehow I felt well equipped for life!