Farmer

I long for the energy that comes with youth – even the sturdy utility of middle age. My nights are clouded by the dreams of vitality, productivity, by the joys of a life active. Daylight falls and with it the pointed realization that last nights dreams will not be today’s accomplishments or even this week, this month or anytime soon. Such wonderful ideas for sustainability, for personal enjoyment, for boyish wonder. Things that up until but a few years prior were the objects of planning. The suns rise marks the acceptance of todays challenges and a scaled project list. Where days were planned around completions, of moving items off lists, todays ledger will record the quiet march toward accomplishment and the dogged determination to stay relevant, to somehow capture that spark of youth – the idea that while down, I’m not out; I still have a voice, a dream, a knowledge of the things that need to be done.

The nights are long and seem particularly cruel, as in one breath I acknowledge the difficulty but in the next the sweet taste of completion. Of crops grown from seed to table, of structures their cladding of pine and oak, reminiscent of settler times; the purpose to house livestock.

Even as these words appear on the screen I loathe their weakness. I curl my fingers into a ball and shake my fist at the timidity of spirit –

the blood of ancestors condemning the surrender to the march of time. “Yes” the memories whisper. “You are older, your body recovers more slowly, your strength will leave more quickly – but your mind is sharp, and your drive is proven. You have learned new ways to find the finish line. Keep on.”

These memories draw confidence and push me to get up, to silence the voices that would keep me their prisoner.

And a new day begins

What was once a novelty, is now the day to day life. The videos of families chasing chickens, or tilling their garden which were once a dream, are now the daily reflection – what once was inspiration is now education.

What initially was a season on the farm has become seasons on the farm. Like a great symphony, each section has its own theme, and those themes wind together to create a beautiful piece of music.

It has been three years since this little experiment went into high gear. We have sold the city dwellings, and now spend full time on the farm with 25 chickens. Not a day goes by that we don’t think about a dog, or pigs, or some more company.

When we started the unknown was overwhelming. How would transplants do with their first breath of cold winter? What if the holes that we burned in the plastic were not wide enough for the flowers? And more importantly, would anybody buy these flowers we were attempting to grow?

Those questions and billions more have occupied my thoughts for the last years, though each day they tended to get quieter. If we were to have a State of the Farm address (that just looks funny writing it – imagine how funny it was in my head when it bounced in) – the State of the Farm would be getting better every day. We are not where we want to be, but we are further along than we were yesterday.

I was probably a bothersome lot in the beginning, pestering the older farmers about everything from high tunnels, to germination rates and soil health. And you know, even today I still have tons of questions, but what I’ve discovered is that I love to learn.

I’ve also learned that I love to share – actually I knew that all along. It has gone in overdrive though over the last years and now I am the farmer answering questions from others and is very enjoyable.

So to those who would read this, and find my blog as inspiration, please let me pile it on thick. I love this life and each day find purpose, enjoyment and don’t regret our move. It has been a great joy and I would most definitely encourage the leap if you have not already taken it.

To those who might read this more as education I would offer this simple reflection- enjoy the journey. The chickens will get out, and the weeds will grow. But your life – the movements in your symphony have an end. Each movement has its own ups and downs. Enjoy each section and finish each section, before beginning the next.

It was a week of firsts. The first 70 degree days of 2019, the first ground being turned over for 2019, and the first tick of 2019. Our first work with an assistant.

First things first – We brought in some help, and were able to get shelves in the Flower Shop. The Farmers Wife then was able to get in and clean the shop up.

We turned over the ground in the primary garden beds. It was exciting to see the earthworms and the rich soil. The little seedlings in the propogation room are coming along well. I’m very excited as we are seeing our first Lisianthus leaves. Lisianthus is a fussy seed, fussy plant, and incredible flower.

With the simple flip of a page, the calendar now reads 2019, and the first season on the farm is over. Whew. What a year. And yet, so much more that needs to be done.

This was our first year, and much of our focus was on learning and building infrastructure. To recap our infrastructure renovations we:

Built 300 feet of low tunnel space
Added a 16×20 high tunnel
Converted the old carport into a product workshop with a raised wooden floor and powered by solar
Converted half of the old Smoke House into a Flower Cooler
Opened another 2 and a half acres of growing area
Cleaned, organized, and messed up the barn numerous times

And meet our most recent addition – a 90 x 30 high tunnel. This was a project that had been put off as a result of the health concerns. It is incredible to have it off of the plate.

We will start with Tulips, Ranunculus, Anemones, Daffodils, and Paper Whites. This summer, the tunnel will be loaded with Lisianthus.

The Farmhouse itself has undergone a pretty drastic change as well. The most recent update has been the kitchen, which has been updated with cabinets, floor and applicances. We we managed to keep the original ship lap walls.

I would be remiss to not recount the personal journeys that have been a companion on our journey this season. Fear, Doubt, Pain, Patience, Failure, Triumph, Joy and so many more partners that have been with us to shape our year.

We participated in several Farmers Markets, meeting friends both new and old. We shared fresh flowers, and enjoyed so many smiles. The money is nice (and necessary), but warm smiles are so important. I can’t count the number of times someone would look over at our booth and smile. That never failed to make my day.

I struggled with how this story would end. How can you recap such an important part of your life, the joys and struggles in a few sentences. How do you discuss the improvements without seeming to be bragging – nothing could be further from the intent.

The answer came on December 28th, as I sat at a long table, surrounded by 23 members of my Fathers family – four generations. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Second Cousins. As the laughter subsided, I was struck by the thought of my Grandmother and Grandfather sitting in heaven with my Uncle and smiling down at the gathering. It was then that the realization hit of how this season on the farm was but a ripple in time, a small piece of a larger puzzle. Our lives, like the land is constantly changing. Granddaddy and Mama Crout as I knew them raised three honest and hard working sons who became incredible men, and a daughter who is compassionate, loving and tremendously resilient. The values that were taught in the old log cabin were taught to a new generation and we are doing our best to pass those on to the next generation.

As these words go from mind to screen, the new season on the farm has already begun. Tasks that must be done to prepare for spring are in motion. Seeds being ordered, ground being prepared, customers being sought. But even as one season ends and another begins, we are reminded of the seasons of our life. Each man’s life touches so many others, and while our time on this earth is limited, our words, our actions, the influence we have is felt even as our season is finished.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.

The first frost and first freeze have come and gone, and now the warm memories of the summer mix with the fond hopes for next spring. A sense of thanksgiving for the harvest, and a foreboding sense of anxiety for the winter to come figure prominently in each days activities. Wood is being chopped, gardens are being cleaned and seed orders are being put together.

A friend made a statement on social media which has caused me to reflect in this time of giving thanks. The comment – “you are truly loving and living the good life”. My first thought is a hearty amen, and then I stop to think of the details of that, and wonder if really I appreciate it, whether I love it as much as I should.

This comment has come in several forms from friends who have known me before we started this journey. It usually sounds something like “You look so at peace”, “You look much healthier” and “it must be great to leave the rat race”.

As this season on the farm is nearing its conclusion, there are a number of lessons that have been learned. One is that while this is a tougher life than the city life, this is nothing compared to what our great grandfathers experienced. Its that lesson that clouds the response to you are truly loving and living the good life.

You see, in studying patterns, and learning about the older times, the common theme is that as progress came to the country, inevitably the choice was to take the progress. As the country came out of the first world war, there was a song How ya going to keep them on the farm. Here is the chorus:

How ya gonna keep ’em down on the farm
After they’ve seen Paree’
How ya gonna keep ’em away from Broadway
Jazzin around and paintin’ the town
How ya gonna keep ’em away from harm, that’s a mystery
They’ll never want to see a rake or plow
And who the deuce can parleyvous a cow?
How ya gonna keep ’em down on the farm
After they’ve seen Paree’

While we all remember the family on the Walton’s fondly supporting each other around the old homestead, the story ended with most of the children moved away, and the parents moved away for health reasons.

So while I dearly enjoy what I have been doing, and am very proud of the transformations, both personal and on the land, I wonder about the shelf life of this lifestyle. So many people have made a go at this, and without fail they point to the simplicity and enjoyment of the life.

We have no plans to pick up and move away, as a matter of fact we are digging in deeper, committed to making a go of this. We are thankful for the opportunity to live here, and to have the time and opportunity to do this work.

So to complete the thought – you are truly loving and living the good life – Yes – we are living the good life, and loving it. Like most folks, there are days when a big screen tv, 150 channels of television and a nice recliner would be a nice change. There are days when my truck finds itself in the city, even though there is work on the farm that needs tending. Those are the times and days that I feel dishonest, thinking that these were not choices that were available to early settlers.