I met him two years ago; he was introduced to me at the farmer’s market as “the best blueberry grower around.” He was kind and smiled a lot, and his eyes lit up when he spoke about his wife, Wadine.

Homer was born and raised in Oakboro and farmed land that his family had worked for generations. He was a walking library of knowledge – it seemed he knew a little about everything.

He grew blueberries, blackberries, grapes, green beans, corn and a little bit of every other vegetable and fruit you can imagine. He fashioned a skillful irrigation system that used water from his pond to nourish all of his plants. The size of his garden was overwhelming to me, but he managed to take care of it all perfectly, and with no weeds!

He had an enviable collection of arrowheads that he found on his property during his many hours spent outdoors, and he made the best blackberry wine that I have ever tasted.
He was generous to a fault. It was hard to get him to take my money when I bought grapes from him last fall. I sometimes sent handmade soap to him to give to his wife if he wouldn’t take payment. Did any of you taste any of my Scuppernong Cinnamon or Muscadine Jelly? That was from the grapes Homer grew.

Two weeks ago, my son Wesley reminded me that we needed more honey. I said, “let me call Homer, his neighbor is a beekeeper, and he could get us some good local honey.” Well, life got busy, and I never made that call. I wish I had. A week later, I found out- that hardy, self- sufficient, southern gentleman passed away.

We will miss you, Homer.