Never Have I Ever

Never have I ever felt so appreciative of the goodwill people. The people who choose the benefit of the doubt approach to life, who don't see the world as an assortment of tribes, but rather as a great community. The people who understand that we rely on each other. The goodwillers shine in bright contrast to the fast-paced, every man for himself, ambitious lifestyle that abounds.

As the temperatures drop, nature signals the scarcity of resources and the interdependence of the living species that stick around to see it through. Body heat, food caches and shelter are shared to lighten the load in the hopes of surviving to see another spring. Species who seek warmer winter quarters collect in flocks and herds to safely migrate toward the equator. As proven by our more instinctual earthlings, we are better together. We are meant to rely on each other.

Last month, a cross-country uncle of Rich's traversed the wide expanse of Pennsylvania to visit our farm. Despite ongoing renovations on his own house, he had made us an offer we couldn't refuse to help us replace the remaining carpeting in our house with tongue-and-groove wood flooring. We have not been able to afford the time or money that this project requires since moving into the house in 2018. Expenses accrue as any home-owner knows. A leaky roof is addressed first. A broken down oven next. Running your own business throws another wrench into the priority list. The chance to graduate from stone age hand tools to a cultivating tractor can justify a reshuffling of priorities in order to better our operation and to preserve our bodies too. Well, suddenly, we had the ability to complete the project within a week, rather than the month it would have taken Rich and I to tackle it amidst everything else we manage.

In the gesture of a lifetime, each room was unpacked, then de-carpeted. The flooring was cut and fit, slat by slat, into place. There were days of work, peppered with forced lunch breaks, a bit of play time here and there with the kids, and evenings in our living room spent laughing and telling stories, abbreviated by the need for deep sleep after a long day's work. Somehow, our southern Ohio weather was dry, mild and cooperative the whole week, making trips back and forth to the miter saw comfortable. And somehow, with the ability only a retired engineer with a dedication to the DIY life could have, we fitted our last pieces and got Jack's room put back together by the last day of his trip. I'm not sure if a week trapped in our wee farmhouse with our family of four, or the arduous, hands-and-knees project was more impressive. I am sure that generosity like his changes lives for the better.

I experience such kindness at the market booth when an awesome customer of ours offers the person behind them the last bag of salad, though they had first dibs and waited their turn for just that. Last night when I hosted our Thanksgiving order pick up, I was bombarded with with gratitude and some good hugs for the food we bring to the table. I brought that recognition home to Rich, our fearless field manager, who had worked with the kids to clean up the house for today's holiday, so that I could just slip into some pajamas next to the warm fire started in the stove. Almost as warm as the generosity of spirit, which burns bright in the dark.

Thank you for being here with us, for reading, for well wishes, for your interest in what we do. Never have I ever been as grateful as I am now, now that I am learned enough to understand that no one gets anywhere on their own. We couldn't be happier to be here, here on the farm in the heart of it all.

Happy Thanksgiving :)

Thank you for reading.

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