January 2023-Continuity
We all just weathered such a wild storm: a storm that apparently comes once a generation. Are you thawed out? Are the nerves in your fingertips still firing?
After the Christmas morning energy slowed to a lull with the kids pouring into their play, Rich ventured out to the hoop...the unheated hoop house composed of two layers of plastic stretched over metal ribs concreted into the soil. Thank Father Winter we didn't cut THAT construction corner, this hoop would have fallen victim to the unchallenged winds that rip through acres of open country long ago. After three days of artic conditions manifested by that wicked storm, Rich had been compiling a list of winter veggies he anticipated reseeding. However, he burst in from the cold to declare the "CHRISTMAS MIRACLE" that seemingly all but the outermost rows of vegetables were standing perky and alive.
It wasn't until the day after Christmas after dropping my mother-in-law at the airport, with Jack napping on the couch, and the two of us coming down from the wild week when we recognized...the farm stood the test of the longest, most frigid and windiest weather emergency since birthing Foxhole. We shared another glass of red, courtesy of said mother-in-law and digested this triumph. Not only did all of the animals on the farm stay safe, the pipes evade bursting, and the house keep all of us sheltered from the storm, but most of the plantlife saw it through to the end. Can my anxious heart learn from this?
Can we extrapolate this out to life at large? Call it my wine-induced philosophical waywardness, or maybe my musing heart, but this incredible experience of discovering resiliency on the other side of a fear-mongering storm turned out to be existentially evocative. It reminds me of the euphoria we felt the morning after a tornado literally touched down and passed by our window a couple of years ago. The sun rising over us after such extreme times of stress, to shed light on what made it through...the fact that anything survived such devastation...it's promising of the perpetuity of life. Those sweet little brassica darlings, lettuce seedlings, and kale stalks. How in the great big world did those plant cells not burst from sustained negative-single digit temperatures? What an absolute wonder.
These marvels are there to serve as reminders, as beacons of hope, time and again. I suppose it's only human to forget. While on the beaches of Siesta Key last month, an apocalyptic red tide hit. A shoreline of deceased sea life told the tale of the devastating effects of the current imbalance in the Gulf. Sea birds dotted the higher sands, avoiding contact with the water and eschewed the otherwise easy meal waiting for them on the beach...too toxic for them to make use of. The smell worsened by day two and we coughed off the toxins in the atmosphere, our eyes watering at the worst of it. In such a stunning place as this...how is this possible? A few days later, we woke up to find the sands bereft of the alleyway of corpses we had traversed to take our beach walks. In the night, the tide had washed most of them back into the gulf to decompose in the depths of the sea. A tractor sputtered a ways down the beach, dragging a rake behind it...a steward of the beach and of Siesta Key tourism finishing the job. The sun rose again as it tends to do in paradise, and this time, the kids waded into the water without dead fish bumping up against their shins. On our morning walk we spotted dolphins surfacing in the shallows in between fits of fishing for their breakfast of LIVE fish. Sea gulls floated on the surface and in our shelling endeavors we found a few urchins, slowly maneuvering their deep purple spines...one of my favorite curiosities of the natural world.
That morning, it all appeared as if nothing had happened, as if the sea life was vibrant as ever and the waters hadn't been tortured by an algal bloom. The rebound of that beach and the persistence of life through the unprecedented winter storm last week, they are lessons on continuity taught to us by the Earth. I'm attempting to be a keen student of hers as anytime I show up for class, it seems I am able to make sense of what unfolds around me.
Shine on sunshine, rain down those rays reminding of us of the hope that promises another day ahead. And another year ahead :). Happy New Year to you and yours. And THANK YOU for supporting our family and our endeavors and our wild life on our family farm.
Updates from the Farm:
-Another year is about to unfold and each year we expect to grow bit by bit. This year we have intentions to grow vegetables, herbs, edible flowers, ginger, and more storage crops to offer through the winter. If I can twist Rich's arm justtttt enough, we may invite honeybees back to our hives.
-Our 2023 CSA is here. Sign up on our site. If you think you will shop from us at market or online throughout the year, signing up for a csa membership throws you $20 extra to spend with us. You can start using your csa credit as soon as you sign up and use it anytime you want all year.
-Some of the sheep are looking pregnant...stay tuned for lamb drama to possibly unfold this winter.
-Should we add to our chicken coop? Do you want more eggs at market?
-I'll continue growing shoots and microgreens through the winter as I can (we grow them in a heated growhouse which gets sunlight but no artificial light...during extended periods of cloudy days, there can be delays). We have a hoop full of veggies to come this winter. We will also continue fun bakes through the winter.