November: Preparing for Torpor

TORPOR...that phenomenon that I am so fascinated by. It’s a state of existence that mice and other animals engage in to survive the cold of winter among other stressful times. When mice torpor, they go into a deep sleep in which their respiration and heart rate slowwwwww, conserving fat and energy.
The farm goes into fits of torpor in the winter season. And with Jack Frost having made his appearance a few times late this October, we are taking the cue, donning our sweaters and vests and stepping out into the season. And with an energy my body hasn’t felt in a long while, I am relishing our work...breaking up garlic into cloves while we wait for a dry spell in the next few weeks to get it tucked in, turning the hoop house over in preparation for early winter greens, picking peppers from the field...the field that gave so much to us this year and is sighing in relief as it moves into the calm of fall. And each night running out to be sure the growhouse is buttoned up, trays and trays of shoots and microgreens keeping warm with increasingly low overnight temperatures, to begin growing again when the sun hits them later and later each morning. Days are growing shorter, and we should take note like the plants and get a later start to accommodate the lower energy we have as sunlight dwindles.
A cattle farmer pal of ours, one with two more decades under his belt than us, expressed apprehension when we were making plans to put up our hoop house. I’ll never forget him positing…”so you won’t be slowing down too much come winter?”. This is a man that knows the life of a farmer...one with a wholly imbalanced year...with a tremendous workload in the summer and a still, peaceful torpor in winter. We were clearly dabbling in dangerous territory, verging on not getting the rest we would need to head into another summer...fighting against Old Man Winter. But rules are made to be broken, right? And there is something about that wild imbalance that didn’t quite suit us. So we took the challenge of balancing out our year, so as not to feel the need to work too hard in the summer to make up for a dry winter. And as it turns out, it does the body and mind sooo much good to get out into the cold of winter, to tickle the lungs with cold air, liven up the bones, and harvest from the earth fresh greenery for the table. And it gives us a greater sense of security, freeing the worry from our minds so as not to feel the need to work to the bone in summer. We’re comin’ for you Long Run.
But amidst our winter harvests and bakes, I’m looking forward to intermittent hours of torpor...just sinking into restful afternoons and longer slumbers than summer could ever afford us.