the title of this post is a quote from my CSA newsletter, roxbury farm week #3. here’s what comes shortly after it: “the statement that farmers are artists resonates with me but it is also not complete. we are also caregivers. our drive is very external; we respond in ways a paramedic works … the moment you put a seed in the ground, the moment you bring an animal into the world, you have made a commitment.” isn’t that beautiful? it goes on to describe a sampling of emergencies that happened in last week alone: intense heat wave, excavation for shade structure for the cows, stress-related maladies of the cows due to construction, pest attacks on the crops.
and listen to this list: “the potatoes came under severe attack by potato leaf hopper, the onions by thrips, the lettuce by deer, the oats, triticale and wheat by birds, and there was an explosion of purslane weeds in the direct seeded crops.” and since i know you are already overwhelmed by all this unintended poetry, i will only tell you — instead of quoting — it concludes with an explanation about a delicate ecosystem involving balance, native vs. non-native bees and nectar.
in a sidebar, the roxbury farmers talk about a neighboring farm’s fruit. a recent hailstorm means that the apples harvest in the fall — in the fall, still a couple months away — will have “hail spots” on them. my friends, what happens to us today (and what we inflict upon others today) has lasting effects. consequences and blessings. put your arms around someone and give them a big smooch, will ya?
i picked up the week 3 veggies last night. it’s always nice to see new things arrive in the mix, like beets (which are gorgeous even though i don’t like them). and it’s sad, too, to see some things fall off the list, like kohlrabi. but then you learn that your CSA share partner, who was a stranger to you until the season started, has connections with the women you’ve known via writing groups for years. wonder wooshes back in.
we mutter some about the work day and how we’re feeling. we talk about the strangeness of men and relationships, and we marvel, maybe in contrast, at the simple requests of the weekly harvest: take me home and enjoy me.