Dear Farm Friends,

Well here we are, the final Friday night of the year. I realize that by the calendar there are plenty more Fridays in 2020, and for most of you they will not be all that different than those of the last six months. But for all of us who grow for the farmers market, this is the last of these Friday nights. A farm-Friday, tilting towards market, when all the things you've been trying to accomplish for the week (sometime including the things you were trying to accomplish the week before), come up against the unrelenting fact that that market bell will ring tomorrow morning, completely regardless of whether you are ready or not. The final push for harvest and prep, and the combination of late night and early morning.

As we prepare for our final market of the season (yes, there is a market this Saturday, the 31st of October! 9:00-12:30 we'll be where we always are), we have to confess to a complex mix of both appreciation for the market season, and a great sigh of releif at the fact that it ends.

Farming can be such an exercise in contrasts. For example: I learned this season that it is entirely possible for a farmer to smell simultaneously of sweet citrusy lemon gem marigold flowers, and fresh wet chicken manure. I don't recommend that particular olfactory experience to anyone, but it can certainly illustrate how things can be, all at the same time, incredibly awful and achingly beautiful at the same time. Farming is like that. Both exhilarated and exhausted, all at once.

This has been, if you've followed even the few newsletters we've managed to put out, quite a year for SweetRoot. We are not alone, it's been quite a year for many. Often lately, people at the farmstore have commented "wow, you have really had a tough season." Or "you've had some bad luck this year." And while we can't deny it's been challenging, we also can't shake the truth that there's been a lot of good, mixed in too.

Yes, our entire crew of spring hires left before the end of the season, teaching us some hard lessons along the way about our own shortcomings in management and organization. But their leaving also opened the door for the arrival of some deeply passionate people who have been elevating us and the farm for the last few months, helping us finish strong. And in the interim, that gap helped bring back some of our old farm family like Kayla and Margo, who helped us remember our roots: farm, story, love.

A global pandemic shook what we thought we knew about how much of what to grow, what to expect from our various accounts and markets, everything from our plans for salsa parties to the very layout of our market booth. It took our backup crew out of commission directly, when they contracted the virus shortly before a planned stay at the farm in time for garlic harvest. But at the same time, we were able to continue doing the work that we have chosen. You can’t bunch radishes via Zoom meeting; we have been in the field and in the soil and so glad for that. And it has never seemed more important, growing food for people to eat. Our members and customers have been so appreciative, so eager for this real, nourishing food this season more than ever. We are grateful for that.

The list could go on. The wind toppled the chicken coop--a major disaster. But we got the barn back upright, and not a single chicken was squished. October brought a record-breaking winter storm. We worked ourselves and our crew to the limits, but things got in from the field--and we had a space, albeit inconvenient, to stash those crops, safely. We did lose some greens even from protected spaces last weekend, but the vast majority actually survived--winter greens for all of us. We have been more isolated this year than normal--but we have also felt so very loved and appreciated by so many of you near and far.

As many of you know who have eaten a farm meal with us, one of the few personal routines that we stick to rock-solid over the years is our pre-dinner gratitude ritual. Whether that dinner is slow cooked farm feast or popcorn and ice cream bars (not uncommon on market Friday nights), we share something for which we are grateful. As this part of the season draws to a close, and we look forward to a Saturday next week when the alarm won't chime before 5 a.m., we invite you to bring that ritual into your own meals, too. Because we have had a hard season, and also we have had a good season--all at once, and we are grateful.

One of our great gratitudes for the coming months is that we will not completely dissappear from your lives, depite the end of market. The farmstore continues, you can come shop anytime. Members, your final bag fills will be this week, but you can still stop in and buy what you'd like, all winter long. And for those of you who want to get even closer in and fully embrace the winter eating, we still have 25 spaces left in our winter farm membership, now open to everyone. You can read all the details and sign up on our website.

With deep muddy gratitude as the snow melts,

Mary and Noah, and all of SweetRoot