spring
Well, spring is finally here with her blooms, her green, her wind, her drops of rain, and a few stuffy noses. We have all the cold-weather crops in the ground and soon we'll plant those warm-weather friends too.
Here is what is currently growing on the farm:
Peas, Collards, Kale, Swiss Chard, Spinach, Frizee, Mache, Arugula, Buttercrunch, etc. Carrots, Radishes, Beets, Parsnips, Cauliflower, Onions, a few Tomato plants, and last week we put all the Potatoes in the ground! Yum.
Here is what we have growing at home:
Collards, Kale, Broccoli, Cabbage, Brussels Sprouts, Rutabagas, Beets, Turnips, Carrots, Lettuce, and Eggplant. I'm intending to start two small fruit projects. One is planting raspberries that I gleaned from my Grandpa Colvin's plot in Seattle, Washington.
a few reflections
Hoop houses are wonderful and really easy to construct. I can't imagine another growing season without them. They can extend your growing time about a month in the beginning, and I imagine about a month at the end (depending on mother nature of course).
Make sure to check each seed's germination time frame, that way no anxiousness happens when certain seeds are not sprouting. Every variety of seed is different.
I want to farm for the rest of my life.
After each crop-mob (when volunteers, subscribers, and friends come out to help on the farm for an afternoon) I get this euphoric feeling. I love having a lot of people around, working on projects together, sweating a little, and afterward enjoying a delicious lunch while reveling in all we accomplished together. Anna is an amazing cook, and even in this short time I've learned a few little tricks I can incorporate into my cooking.
The quiet moments on the farm are soul food. When the hawks fly over head, the birds call to me in the afternoon, leaves rustle down by the creek, and dogs bark in the distance... when the mind goes blank...
Peeing indoors is seriously over-rated. Who needs toilet paper. Take me back to India.
Sometimes after a long day on the farm you just need to drink mango-margaritas and talk about life with your people. Again, we can thank Anna for this suggestion and for making it happen.
It is always worth it to do what you love.
I think being a small farm is much better than being a large farm. I just don't really believe in the bigger-more is better paradigm, and I don't think I ever will. Being a small farm gives us an opportunity to really connect with all of our subscribers and those who will get produce from us. I personally like it that way. Relationships are involved. It is also nice not worrying about expanding or get bigger, even though the farm might produce more in the future, and right now we are just starting out (which brings with it some growing pains) I sense contentment. I think this is very important when I am working on any kind of project; that I intentionally take time to recognize what it is I did, and instead of wanting more or thinking of more, I am satisfied.
Patience -- I'm not sure what to say about you patience, except that I need a lot of you, all of the time.
The fork is my favorite tool.
Having an
Earthway Seeder really is a good idea, even if at first it might not seem that way. Still, you could probably build one yourself, and I would recommend looking into that.
Kids. There is nothing better than walking through the field and finding 30 kale sprouts coming up in about 4 inches. This is what happens when kids plant, and the best part is.... it doesn't matter... it just grows.
"It just grows... and sometimes it doesn't." Yes, we could be really scientific about the whole growing process and try to figure out why some seeds sprout and others don't, but I am not smart enough to understand the ways of the world. There are a lot of somethings happening here that I can't explain. Can there be beauty without mystery?
wild comfort
I am currently reading -- Wild Comfort - The Solace of Nature by Kathleen Dean Moore. Kathleen writes about her explorations into the wild in an effort to cope with difficult emotions. Her writing really inspires me, as it accounts her going fearlessly and courageously into nature and into herself. This book teaches me about plants, animals, and the various places she lives and travels, it makes me dream about exploring nature on my own, and encourages me to practice self-love and self-care following Kathleen's example. It also reads much like Annie Dillard... poetic and subtle. I've found it to be both comforting and challenging.... I found a really perfect fit with this book.
Here are a few excerpts I thought I'd share...
"As Hank and he walked the tide line, the monk told him that everything we notice, everything we think, all the feelings we accumulate don't just disappear when we get done with them. They lie submerged below the surface of our lives - anger, gratitude, beer advertisements, pride, gladness, the smell of the woodshed, dreams of revenge, the sour taste of shame. They bubble up at times we can't control, nourishing or nasty.
So be careful about what you store up, he said. Don't collect the bad stuff, and don't let anybody else leave their trash with you either. Let it flow on through, in one door, out the other, like a scouring tide.
But how do you keep the bad stuff from lodging in every corner of you mind, I asked Hank. Pay attention to the present moment, he said. Every moment we are wondering at the path of wind across the water or smiling to see a dog rest in the sun, we are not rehearsing our misfortunes. Every moment we are glad for the twilight of morning, we are not vexed. It is impossible to be at the same time grateful and spiteful. Breathe: sea-wind, kelp-brine, cold. Notice: fireweed, otter track, foxglove, fog, a face flickering in the fire.
---
Hank told me once that if I am to live this close to the wilderness, I will need to accept its gifts. At that time, I was living in a cabin near his. Anya and Linnea, his wife and tiny daughter, often brought me food. There was venison pizza and a jar of wild strawberry jam. Smoked salmon on pasta. Homemade bread. A bowl of highbush cranberries. Finally, I said, "Hank, I can't accept any more of these beautiful gifts. I have no way to give them back."
He addressed me quite sternly. "Then you will have to learn to accept gifts," he said, "and a good way to learn is to practice."
I was so surprised.
But I practiced that evening, receiving a russet potato dug fresh from the ground by a little girl in red boots. I practiced that night on the scent of sea-fug as the tide sidled up the salt creek. When rain awakened me, there was the weft and warp of willow leaves on the window.
And now this moonlight, and this trembling path across the water.
The Earth offers gift after gift - life and the living of it, light and the return of it, the growing things, the roaring things, fire and nightmares, falling water and the wisdom of friends, forgiveness. My god, the gift of forgiveness, time, and the scouring tides. How does one accept gifts as great as these and hold them in the mind?
Failing to notice a gift dishonors it, and deflects the love of the giver. That's what's wrong with living a careless life, storing up sorrow, waking up regretful, walking unaware. But to turn to the gift in your hands, to say, this is wonderful and beautiful, this is a great gift - this honors the gift and the giver of it. Maybe this is what Hank has been trying to make me understand. Notice the gift. Be astonished at it. Be glad for it, care about it. Keep it in mind. This is the greatest gift a person can give in return.
"This is your work," my friend told me, "which is work of substance and prayer and mad attentiveness, which is the real deal, which is why we are here."
---
To see the depth of a river, wade into still water. In the silent space under the slick of the world, the river clears. If you stand still too, so as not to wrinkle the water, you will see the shadows of minnows. You will smell sage and melting snow and you will notice, incised into the topography of the silt, little river channels pointing to the sea. And isn't this what you had hoped to find? A quiet place where everything comes clear and the Earth itself shows the way to one thing.
love and beets,
c.
