Daylight Distraction Time
The tiny place in my brain where language is stored has been depleted of its weekly allotment of words. I burned through them this week filling in first twelve pages of our business plan. The few words that remain are inaccessible because at six o’clock in the evening, it’s still bright and beautiful outside. Daylight savings time is here, which always leaves me a bit giddy and excited. But now that the movement of the earth and sun governs so much of my schedule, I think my inner farmer is especially uninterested in the expectant blinking cursor.Those of us digging out from yet another weekend dump of snow may find it hard to believe, but spring is nearly here. At the farm, seeds are already touching dirt and it’s 70 degrees ‘round the clock inside our 30’ x 80’ bubble of summer.On Monday, we piled coats in a corner of the greenhouse and sifted compost into flats, thus marking Point Zero of another year in the life of Maggie’s farm. After months of classes about botany, crop planning and soil science, we fifteen student farmers are now responsible for tens-of-thousands of dollars of vegetables – all five acres of which just arrived on our doorstep in an unassuming cardboard box.
In seed form, this summer’s crops are currently at their maximum genetic potential. And throughout the year, problems with soil fertility, weather, pests, disease and weeds will chip away at all they’re programmed to become. Our job as farmers is to mitigate those threats as best we can and just let the plants do the rest. It sounds simple, but I know the complexity will reveal itself soon enough.Longer days, cows turned to pasture and fresh vegetables for the kitchen are all around the corner – such an exiting time of year! And as much as I want to go on at length about a very humbling Wednesday spent shearing sheep or the satisfaction of employing my now-recovered back to put up two cords of wood on Thursday, I’m going to let the photos do the talking. Instead, I’ll share my other major source of distraction:
Dina and I spent much of our 47-hour weekend putting the finishing touches on Swisher’s nursery. Actually, I did nothing. The fresh coat of gender-neutral green, the beautiful mural, the reupholstered chair – that was all Dina and the pint-sized nesting furnace kicking around in her belly. But this afternoon I sat, eyes closed, in the warmth of the finished room as sunlight poured in, and for the first time could hear the songs I want to sing to little Swish. I imagined boney little elbows pressing into me as I cradle him to my side, and I caught a glimpse of him swaddled tightly to my chest as we hoe some future field together. With a little over two months to go, this parenthood thing is finally becoming real to me now. It’s a real gift - and a saisfyingly real distraction.
And here is a distracted man's link to this week in photos.