Thawing

This week a small field of worn out grass was turned over with the old plow. The great restart begins.

Time is quickly moving. The shaggy gray and brown of aged grass left over from last summer is beginning to open ever so slightly revealing small beacons of emerald …a preview of what is to come, and a glimpse into the awakening world that lives just below the soil’s surface.

This field has not been cultivated or used for grain production since I was about 10. It has been hayed, and then grazed. I think that extended period of rest, and grass growth has probably done wonders for the health of this ground, and hopefully will assist in nurturing a healthy oat crop.

We’ve passed the equinox and have moved from the earth’s time of rest to this moment of transition. Longer days, longer exposure to light and warmth. The thawing and quickening of life playing out beneath the weight of our feet.

These times of transition, though welcome, throw me for a loop. With longer days I naturally keep more active and working later into the early evening. Bed times are pushed back, and more energy invigorates my bones. At the same time, this also means I’m much more prone to sleep in later than what I prefer. I am a lover of early mornings, but I have yet to adjust to this new schedule fully. Simply put, I loathe sacrificing a full eight hours of sleep. As I write this, on a beautiful Palm Sunday morning, drinking my coffee, I once again face the challenge of dealing with expectations versus reality.

The cattle take plant material and convert it into beef, milk, and young baby calves. On top of that, they produce manure. Manure is nutrient dense, feeds plants and earthworms, and helps awaken the microbial life of the soil. There is no possible way for a farm to work as an ecosystem without this great resource, unless you want to be fully dependent on petroleum based products.

I have ideals. I envision for myself being a renewed independent agrarian. Taking joy and leisure in chopping my own wood, only eating my very own fresh produce, and being fully driven to be on a non-stop move of caring and tending to this place…and in return being gifted with abundance. At the same time, many mornings, I find myself mindlessly scrolling through less than optimistic news, low brow comedy, and the constant call to buy a new product or service that will somehow transform my state of existence. By the time my coffee is finished after such a bombardment my mind is pretty frazzled and weighed down with existential dread- being dragged into opposite directions- either nothing matters or everything matters.

At some point I start to move. Its really the only option. In doing so its almost as if its an act of self offering, a sacrifice, to offer my care and concern to that which it can actually influence. The weight lifts, the passing of time becomes unnoticeable, and the flow of actively and physically bringing something into a better place likewise brings my mind, body and soul into that very same act of redemption. These last few weeks have been and will continue to be focused on bringing this farm into this time of transition, to make the most of the next step: planting and growth. Its stressful, fun, and beautiful.

Action Shot of Andrew spreading manure on an alfalfa field that will be plowed in a few weeks in preparation for growing organic corn this year.

In the midst of the cultural fads, geopolitical turmoil, economic hardships, this whole thing …perhaps the most “real” thing continues on, and we simply have the option to participate. Its within that participation, though not always fun or euphoric, a balanced wholeness presents itself that was actually always there the entire time.

This place, this farm, on a daily basis graciously extends to me that invitation to participate, and in turn its my hope to extend that invitation to you.

Much Peace,

Andrew