Today marked the end of the first “farm week” of 2019. The farm is working seven days a week, and the market is running six. There’s a familiar comfort as full time farm life takes over. A comfort in knowing how each day unfolds, of the rhythm of the weeks and months to come.
Admittedly, there is also a quiet unease as I anticipate the discomfort of the pace and punishment my body and spirit will face over the next ten months.
Monday I woke at 6, filled with dread. It rained hard again. I’m sure that neither the land nor my soul can take any more. By 7 Manuel arrived and we sit silently in the house, me eating oatmeal, him surfing his iPad. By 7:30 we are bundled up and facing the freezing winds.
Then the beautiful thing happens. The thing that always amazes me. Texts start pouring in from friends, growers, volunteers. Olivia arrives for work wearing a big smile. Manuel fixes a nagging issue with the greenhouse. A young woman, new to farming, stops by the market to meet me and talk growing.
What was sure to be another hard, cold day of fixing problems and making tough decisions, unfolds into laughter, gratitude and the knowledge that this is my life. This is what I live for. And I’m so glad to be back at it.
The first week open is like an old homecoming. So many good friends, asking about my winter and hoping I spent time cozy and relaxed. The two months off was wonderful. The rest only renewed the creativity and excitement I have for the farm and the market.
True, not all of it is rosy. I hate being cold and I’m done with rain. I dread climbing into the same four layers I wore the day before. The long days outside in the cold and wind leave me wasted.
There are times I am still gripped with fear of failing. The whims of Mother Nature and the stress of mouths to feed weigh heavily upon me.
But it’s the comfort of knowing that I’m living the life I was meant to live. Yes, this is my life. And yes, this is what I live for. Thank you for making it possible.