“I am trying to teach my mind to bear the long, slow growth of the fields, and to sing of its passing while it waits.” -Wendell Berry from ‘From the Crest’ 1977
. . .before first light on a windy March morning I am awake and thinking about the state of the farm. It is so much more than fields which produce food and animals to sell. This place is a home for us. Over the past four years, our life energy has been poured into these five and a half acres, into the woods, pastures, gardens, orchards and buildings. If you want to know us, who we are and what we have been occupied with, you must know this place. Most of our resources have gone into making this place a home and creating the infrastructure the farm needs to thrive and provide for itself. Although we have accomplished a great deal, our list remains long and there is ever the sense that we are still beginning. I suspect this will continue to be the case for a good many years and this does not worry me, true craft is never mastered. This is the work we signed up for; this creating home; this nurturing of plants and animals which in turn sustains those who share with us the dependance on this land. Grappling with the ‘bigger picture’ helps me to make sense of the demanding repetitive and joyous details of our daily life.
I can see the moon, a week past full, behind the fir trees and I think that today it will rain, or so they tell me. A great concern for weather is inescapable for folks like us who give our lives to being outside. So we try to pay attention. Using the information we have we attempt to make the best choices possible, when to plant, when to wait, when to water or hope for rain, when to work the soil, when to harvest, how much, how late to stay in the field. . .the list goes on. The light arrives as the definition of blue and the baby is talking in his bed. Another day. . .
“A young [family] with a farm, and fully interested in it, may be assumed to have some permanent intentions.” -Wendell Berry from “A Forest Conversation” 2012