Hello Farm Family;
It feels nice to return to some clear sky, clear eye normalcy this week. We're still processing and digesting all that transpired during these past 12 days, but suffice it to say we are feeling deep gratitude for our home and for the purposeful work before us. During the evacuation and upheaval, and despite the horrid smoke and anxiety about advancing fires, it was this land and it's harvests that kept me grounded and sane. Sarah and the kiddos were safely away, first with family in PDX and then to a house on the coast for some clean air and beach relief. I stayed hunkered down in Canby on a friends' farm in a basement room with an air purifier, taking time to rest and shower between hurried trips to an otherworldly and lonely Diggin' Roots where animals and crops needed daily attention. Once we sourced and connected a generator to the well pump, which enabled both irrigation and home defense, my immediate anxiety diminished significantly, though the grief for our surrounding community and the displaced neighbors in the Santiam canyon was sustained and overwhelming. These have been trying times, to say the least, exacerbated tenfold by the palpable sense of isolation and discord wrought by an ongoing pandemic. It is heartwarming and encouraging to see a community so quickly, and so efficiently, mobilize itself into an unconditionally supportive machine. We felt deep love and concern during these past two weeks, and we couldn't have navigated the maze of decisions and uncertainty without countless offers of assistance from family and friends. There is so much love in our lives, it simply defies explanation. We are so fortunate. For how little we have truly lost and struggled relative to the total devastation felt by so many. Now that we have begun the work of unpacking and re-orienting ourselves here, cleaning our home and our fields, returning to the rhythm of harvest, we turn our attention to the months ahead. How can we continue to draw hope and resilience from our community as political tensions continue to rise and divide? What is the common thread of our humanity that binds us together in a productive and peaceful civil union? How can we rise from the unsettling tumult of fire and fury and fear to move ahead with hope and optimism. Sarah and I are asking ourselves this, and we are leaning into the vulnerability of our fears and our dreams. We want to do this with you too, because we feel that there is hope in how we share with our neighbors, in how a community confronts crisis with care and concern for its people and its creatures. We are inspired by you all. We are driven to give this land the love it deserves. There may be smoke and viruses and vitriol in our children's' futures, but they will also know what it means to be held by a community, what it feels like to find wonder in stewardship, and the stars. We won't be able to shelter them from all of humanity's disarray, but we will try to show them that there exists a common path of optimism and care.
Thank you all so much. Enjoy this week's veggies, and please reach out for any reason.
Conner
PS- If you haven't yet tried sweet Jimmy Nardello peppers, or think you don't like them, please try again. They are our favorite vegetable and shine brightest when caramelized with onions. They are great in pasta, with other veggies, in meatloaf, soups, fritattas, with goat cheese, in burritos. The list goes on. Grill them and freeze them whole. They are our favorites.
