Two months is a remarkably long time in farming. Many things have come and gone since I wrote in April. Things have been planted, harvested, sold at markets. 200 meat birds were slaughtered on a sunny May day. And the next round of birds will reach the halfway mark of their short lives this week.
Spring scampered by. Or perhaps I mean we scampered through spring. Or maybe both. To scamper: Run with quick light steps, especially through fear or excitement.
As we enter into the week around the solstice when the ‘sun stands still’ as we make our almost ninety degree turn the farm and my mind are finding their growing season rhythm. Winter was a season of rhythm. Spring was a season of rush. As we harvested lettuce for the weekend markets I realized that we were back to rhythm. We harvested the same way we have for several weeks now, and I felt comforted by knowing how to accomplish the task without much instruction. As a team we know how to harvest, wash, pack, and weigh with the smooth efficiency that comes from repetition. While new and fresh activities are a highly coveted aspect of most work environments, the scamper pace is hard to maintain. And as the workers awaiting instructions each morning at 8am it’s hard to feel connected to the feeling of fear or excitement that is propelling our pace. But all the fields are now close to being fully planted. And though 200 feet of plastic is not generally what comes to mind as a beautiful farm image, to me finally having the hoop houses up confirms for me that the growing season is here. Their undulating walls look like gigantic caterpillars and in their bellies are our 200 tomato plants. They are safe, healthy, warm, and growing in their cocoons and soon they will be dripping with red, yellow, purple, orange, green, striped, and spotted juicy and sweet fruits.
The lack of rhythm over the spring weeks caused me to forget my chicken chores more than once. And the rapidly growing grass erased our dirt paths worn over the winter. But despite the chaotic feeling, we kept at our tasks. And though the grass is now above my waist, the paths have reemerged. Our pace will not slow in the coming summer months. But rhythm is a key component to keeping up with the demand of farm life. I anticipate fall having a similar feeling to spring. This time I’ll know the importance of maintaining the sense of rhythm. And I’ll remember to keep walking along and soon the paths will be clear again.
