I find myself thinking of Sir EH Shackleton this week, and how he led a team through a harrowing survival adventure in the arctic long before satelite phones and smartphones. It took leadership and guts. It was that kind of week. It all started with our phantom pepper roast last week (don't worry, we will have another one). And then a workparty on Sunday to side one of the intern cabins. And then, by Monday, the weather forecast turned so we packed up all the siding and then got to bringing all of our sensitive crops in. It shifted our entire week. It took all week, with big pushes. Today, in addition to our 4-farmer team, we had Lisa out (who worked on our day off), Toby, Ed, Travis and Shelley, and Regina. Somewhere on along the way we harvested about 900 pounds of tomatoes and we started bringing stuff into the packshed this evening, circa 9, 10 and 11 by the pallet load. 

All this week while Gretha Thunberg, from Sweden, was raising awareness about climate change to world leaders. I think that was the day we were planting our very last bit of cover crop for the season, on Tuesday. It seemed so appropriate: it was just one of the few times this year we used our tractor mounted tiller, which we've completely abandoned in favor of lighter, living soil approached. We needed to bury seed, lightly in a hurry -- so it was a good decision. And then, on Wednesday, farm member Bronwyn Angela, brought 15 of her students to help clear out our big tomato tunnel for transplants (next week). And you won't believe it -- we all gasped as small legs and bodies stepped out of their bus. Rather than the 7th graders we thought they were (sorry, Angela), they were 2nd graders! But boy, all they needed was a little encouragement from Mary, and a little help from Erin and Taylor actually uprooting our tomato plants, and they were a force like we've never seen before. If you haven't caught some of the video on our facebook page, well, all I can say is that it's really worth a watch. 

And somewhere along the way, maybe Tuesday night, at 7.30 in the evening, I had a magical conversation with Dan Hulls in his dairy yard, after he loaded our trailer with compost. He shut off his loader and the light faded we traded facts, hopes, and worries. For me, that was the closing of the summer, the beginning of fall, the hope that was to come. I heard it in the scuff of our boots, the smell of manure, I felt it in our warm smiles, a laugh, and finally a handshake. 

The farm continues to amaze and inspire us all this week. Both Mary and I still get teary eyed and some of the first and last harvests of the year, and about new things to come. We've had so many visitors this week, and boy, the meal dropoffs have been amazing. 

But please, we ask you this, come out to market tomorrow. Even at 2am and into 3am, our market trailer is fun to load and we've got tons of good stuff -- all the herbs, all the greens, tomatoes, brussel sprouts, zucchinin, sweet peppers, cabbages, brocolli and cauliflowler, and about 3 pages of other stuff (at least on our harvest list). The weather will be miserable, but we'll give you the best smile we have and I'm certain that us and all of our colleagues will make it worth your while. Come at 9.30 to our booth for the best results (it's been a 20 hour workday here and Erin and Taylor put row cover on our fields just about the entire day (until midnight). We worry less about the frosts because of our confidence in them, our infrastructure, and that we know we can feed you all with whatever we have.

We are so grateful for their magic and the season.  Even as I write, and the weather alerts come up on my phone, we can't wait to share what we have with you. As we say, we can't be on this wild adventure without you.