Back in the yurt last night, wrapping up another long farming day with 10 pm dinner, I started flipping through Noah’s phone to see if we had taken any good photos of this continuing roller coaster of spring, this week. The image above stuck out, not just because of the lovely evening light, but the impression it gave—I held the phone out to Erin, saying “wait, that looks, like, pretty good, doesn’t it? I mean, that looks like a farm that’s got it together. Those beds look great.” Which is to say, part of my reaction to the photo was “is that really us?”
That photo does not look like how much of this week felt. Did not look like a farm that had spent most of the day grubbing out thistle and quack grass, frustrated and scared by the fact that item #1 on a long list (“prep beds in beet and carrot block”) had taken till mid-afternoon. Did not look like a farm where one farmer had accidentally caught the entire set of garden hoses leading to drip irrigation in the high tunnels on a tractor implement and ripped out fittings, header lines and snapped the hose splitter and valve off of the well house. Again.
That list could go on, but it’s also only one part of the farm picture. That lovely evening glow, straight smooth beds seeded with carrots and beets getting covered with brand-new 30-foot row cover….yeah, it’s also the farm where two farm members cheerfully spent a good chunk of their Memorial day helping us plant potatoes and summer squash, spread compost, and feel a little bit better about the north garden. And the farm that had not one, not two, but THREE drop-offs of delicious, soul-saving home made food from farm members this week. Thank you, thank you, thank you! We think every single one of those was consumed within 24 hours, and boy did we need them.
Same block of beds as above, but earlier in the day: a mess of thistle, grass and perennial weeds, despite weeks of being covered in dark tarps.
Spring is always a roller coaster on the farm. Always a time of both/ and, filled with limitless possibility and impossible lists of everything to get done. How things look depends a lot on your angle—just like how Erin, below, turned our medium-small farm cat Radish into a monster of a leopard, joking around with trophy-fishing poses, midway through the long day of prepping ground for summer crops.
Some of the income we lost to the slow spring can’t really be made up; some of it, we hope, can be buffered by some good summer and fall crops. And so, while Mary is at market this morning, Noah will be getting ready for the extra hands of yet another long-long-time farm member to help us set up the temporary tunnels for our tomatoes and peppers.
Thank you to all of you who keep us going, who remind us occasionally step back and see the farm (and our work) in a more flattering angle, and who share and acknowledge your own very human mix of accomplishments and struggles.
