A League of Their Own: You
Nothing exists in isolation. All living things are embedded in a sea of other, interrelated things. Ideas are in that dynamic soup, brought to life by a person, two or more. They can be a product of passion, necessity, ambition, even fear. And the animate idea evolves, as if by the loom of the Fates, shaped by the other moving parts in the story. Rich and I hatched an idea together, born of an intense desire to live on the land a life that could sustain us and in which we could channel our collective spirit into something to offer back to the dynamic soup. It was a thread that we began to pull on, first by apprenticeship, then by entrepreneurship. But our idea has matured to a viable age, not within the isolation of our minds, but amidst a sea of people and conditions which have fueled it, challenged it, and ultimately given it a place to exist.
Two people are enough to enable a false sense of confidence in an idea. That very well could have been Rich and me. Driven by conviction, we made land here on the farm in April of 2018. And with baby Marion (May) at our mercy we cultivated the ground and nested in the old farmhouse plunked in the middle of it. In farming, there is so much effort which must be given before you have something to show for yourself. But did we have business cards promising great, locally-grown, regenerative harvests to hand out around town? Yes we did. And back on the homefront, rows and rows of deeply-composted beds, seeds tucked within, promising a chance to bring those harvests to fruition. Our nest egg dwindled with another haul of compost on the way and tractor payments owed. The Oakwood Farmers Market agreed to take us in as vendors and so did the produce buyer at Dorothy Lane Market. The Centerville Farmers Market gave us a green light too. With doors graciously opened to us, we had leapt into the sea, clinging to our idea by which we would stay afloat.
That was the summer that our idea found a home. The vegetables we stocked on our market table sold themselves...alluring in their rainbow display, emanating that just-plucked-from-the-soil vibrancy, still very much alive in their crispness. And there I was behind the booth, a bit sleep-deprived and very ambitious, eager to find a place for us in the market. It's not that there is great competition amongst local growers in the Dayton area. In fact, there is room for more of us here and I was even beating down a few doors this spring to invite more to Oakwood Farmers Market to fill the gap. Back then it was more about ensuring that we connected with a community of people who were interested in what we were doing, in supporting a family farm starting small, but with great potential. We were hoping to feel the security of a reciprocal relationship, to find people who believed in us and our idea. If we felt that traction, maybe just maybe we were onto something. Maybe we could let go of our side hustles teaching culinary classes, catering and playing handyman. A dependable community would buoy us.
We were practically running blind that season...keeping up with May as she took to her feet and started walking, while slinging bins of veggies from field, to wash room, to market and home. From the get-go, the excitement over our vegetables was evident in the nearly empty trailer we'd come home with. We were encouraged by the reception in the marketplace and I cherished the budding relationships being forged with the people visiting the booth. A feeling familiar to us from starting Bird Creek Farm back in Michigan was flooding back into our lives, that warm feeling that we were somewhere we belonged. Folks learned our story and I got to know theirs. All the while we were becoming a part of each other's weekly routine, and thus, our stories merged. We're swimming alongside each other, caught in the current together.
The years have progressed and we've experienced so much in each other's company: we've watched your kids outgrow their stroller over the course of years in our market line, Jack was born and outgrew his own, graduations and other celebrations, hardships befallen, a pandemic, moves from here to there or there to here, wild election cycles, beautiful harvest seasons, slumbering winters, and the fresh start every spring when we all feel resuscitated by the return of warm breezes. Whether connected from afar, or from right across the market table, I feel we're in the company of a great extended family of sorts. Do you feel it?...that reassurance that you're not alone in your ethos, that you're swimming amongst a school of fish, bolstered by the company of other good people?
I feel it and so does Rich. We nearly exhausted ourselves swimming just the two of us with this big idea on our shoulders. Thank you for giving it a place to live, for influencing it as it becomes something much greater and more congruous than we originally imagined it. Thank you for hearing our story through my writing, or for eating what we bring to the table, though you have to venture off the beaten path to the grocery store to get it, and for sharing in this experience with us. We are pleased to swim amongst you, and better for it.
Thank you for reading.
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