Hello Farm Family;
If the season were a bell curve, we'd be just over the hump on the downhill slide. The season is always A LOT, and 2020 is no exception. We've been hustling hard this year, pivoting and adapting the business, trying to be engaged and active citizens, trying to be both vulnerable and strong for our children, reaching, sometimes futilely, for moments of self-care and self-reflection.
About this time, when the winter squash leaves go haggard, drooping into a dusty yellow sea to reveal the rich, dense, thick-skinned buoys of winter food beneath, I am struck by the similarity in me. I feel a bit haggard and tired too, fatigued by heat and decisions and a world in upheaval..but I'm buoyed by the bounty and richness of this place, and by the ultimate humility of my insignificance to the soil, on this planet, in this galaxy that we call home. There are seeds of hope and resilience in our hearts that we must water and tend, despite the sometimes painful, sometimes ugly, shedding and senescence of our protective layers and leaves. The turn of the earth, the excoriating and un-yielding sun, the fickle and fervent rain, the passage of time - these are the weathering forces of the seasons, of our lives, that we all must endure. We can do so with fear and anger in our hearts, or, unified in hope and peace and humility. It's hard to do this work, on this little plot of land, and not wonder if any of it matters. We are grateful for the food, for the communion that we share with you and with the soil. But it's probably not enough. We feel an urgency to keep reaching for each other, reaching for our best selves, seeking ways to cultivate love in a world that wants to rip us apart. And maybe it starts with the simple act of caring - caring about your food, caring about the earth and its creatures, caring about your neighbors and their well-being.
I'll leave you with a little rough impromptu poem that I wrote a few years ago at this same turn of the season, which always leaves me reflecting on the ponderous months to come in contrast to the frenetic sprint that brought us to the peak of the curve on the bell:
Over the Summer Hump
"Melons and Kale collide in cool night and fleeting light
Zucchini remains, the mildew gains, pears ripen to blush, while tomatoes slightly refrain
Jimmy Nardellos belong in a pan, with butter or oil, or both, or bacon
Fry until blistered, sweet and smooth, then smother on spuds, Fingerling good.
Basil blooms in bees, finds new life in the blender...
And Kohlrabi is...well...tasty, we promise, on salads, or with dips, yeah we know it looks weird.
The Allure Sweet Corn flashes some bi-color genes, and the Spanish Onions cure to a dusty rose sheen.
Cucumbers swell with the last full summer moon, and we are full too, with love, and friends, and food.
We embrace this time of year, as the sun loosens its blazing grip, sweetly slips into seeds, nesting and thrift.
One hand grasps a waning summer, while our feet dance on beans, threshing power from the season.
With good reason."
And with great appreciation for you and your families.
Conner + Sarah