2017 Week 46, Summer CSA Week 24 of 26
Good morning all,
October and November had been so far a bit of a dream, warm and even green, with the grass still growing. But we woke Saturday morning right back where we ought to be, to Jack Frost and his artwork in every corn of the farm. I spent the day prior pulling the last muddy ginger, turmeric, lemongrass, and ashwagandha roots -- all tropical plants -- for ourselves, before winter took them for her own. It occurs to me, and I should let you know, that most of those, particularly the turmeric and ashwagandha, go well decocted into a warm milk.
With the schedule just slightly less frenetic, it has been so, so nice to walk the farm with an observant and dreaming eye, rather than a task-based one. Standing in the orchard, I can feel the trees accumulate their years -- the farm's logo -- which is something of a metaphysical, even emotional, stance against the grass of the vegetable patch above it, which shows not even a trace of all this summer's effort, and all these years never has. See even just the title of Arlo's, "A Farm Dies Once a Year."
And I can see the mulberry trees I have yet to plant or even buy, twenty-five foot sentinels stationed along and outside the fence, food for the birds and wildlife, so that they might-just-maybe have their fill before coming to our own berries. Also, the fence-line they walk draws the distinction between effort -- our farm -- and maybe what we could just call 'breathing,' but you might also call 'wild' -- which is the tall grass in the wind outside of it. It can't just be the farmer who feels so much to walk through unmade land, but certainly that heart feels the difference. And to me it feels like breathing.
So, a deep breath,
a long bow of thanks to you all this first season,
See you on the farm,