Please Don't

This poem found in The Sun magazine--my weekday breakfast buddy. I love that publication and I love this poem.

Please Don't

Tony Hoagland

tell the flowers -- they think

the sun loves them.

The grass is under the same

simple-minded impression

about the rain, the fog, the dew

-- and when the wind blows,

it feels so good

they lose control of themselves

and swobtoggle wildly

around, bumping accidentally into their

slender neighbors.

Forgetful little lotus-eaters,

solar-powered

hydroholics, drawing nourishment up

through stems into their

thin green skin,

high on the expensive

chemistry of mitochondrial explosion,

believing that the dirt

loves them, the night, the stars --

reaching down a little deeper

with their pale albino roots,

all dizzy

Gillespie with the utter

sufficiency of everything

-- they don't imagine lawn

mowers, the four stomachs

of the cow, or human beings with boots

who stop to marvel

at their exquisite

flexibility and color.

They persist in their softheaded

hallucination of happiness.

But please don't mention it.

Not yet. So what

if they are wrong? So what

if you are right?

Pumpkin Day

Saturday was Pumpkin Day. The members of the CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) who fund this farm by buying shares of the food we grow all season long, were invited out to see where it comes from.

Pot luck dinner, apple cider and a hay ride out to the pumpkin field for the choosing of the pumpkins that would travel back home with them.

So many energized kids bounding with enthusiasm for plants, rocks, bugs, new friends --they need no more of an icebreaker than "want to play?"
Music, beautiful and perfect for the setting was courtesy of the fantastically talented, really lovely ladies of The Ditch Lilies.

The evening fire brought the day to the satisfying end that warm, mesmerizing flames on a clear chilly night after a gorgeous afternoon do.

Meeting these people, who are the reason we can do this, whose thanks I return with so much gratitude, --it was encouraging. Together we've built something based on trust, on hard work and on a belief in a better way of growing, buying and eating food. Pretty awesome.

Hurry...

These fall days, the colors, the gold fields, still contrasting the dark, cool greens and the cold blue-greys of the cloudy windy skies, the trees' green-yellows, yellow-oranges, orange-reds, starting bright vibrant, stunning reds... this warm glow the sun gives them and they give back. It's fleeting. Soon we'll have to make our own warmth. Get out there and get as much as you can --it's time to harvest, time to gather. Take in it all, take it all inside and store it there.

Cloudy, Rain and Carrots

The sun woke up this morning and promptly snuck back under the covers.

It's been mostly hiding under those clouds all week and the rain has been coming and going. I've been rocking the Green Bay Packers colored rain gear daily--Go Pack!

Since I couldn't give you video of the carrot picker in action--here's some of the potato harvester--not as impressive, but still a wonderful time and labor saving apparatus that I am very grateful for.

And, once again, --crazy carrots:

The Foot

Squidy

Wrapped Up

Hanging Out

I may be spending a bit too much time with carrots these days...

Probably I am.

The Carrot Picker

It's a beast. It's a little terrifying. But it is awesome. It can pick a whole row of carrots in like 3 minutes.

I can't do that.

And today, I got to steer it (something no other employee has ever had the privilege to experience, I'm told, and I feel very lucky.)

Oh heavy, unforgiving steel and belts, hydraulics and powerful, powerful, tractor PTO... efficient, potentially deadly, carrot picker... it was a really fun new experience. Needing to be clear minded and focused during operation, I couldn't really take any pictures or videos of it in operation--but I wish I could for you, because it's really impressive.

Tomorrow--there will be carrot people... of course.

aaaaand... I need a social life...

Night!

The Colors

Can we just sit under this apple tree for a bit?

Eating apples, breathing this air, captivated in color, loving living....

Just sit, and be present, and know how good it is.

Tents and Transition

I'm in a time of transition. And I'm excited and I'm scared and I know just what I want, but I feel like I can only have half of it, and I want that other half just as bad. More. But I'm not sure if it wants me. Do you ever feel like that? The doubt just knocks me over sometimes and has been such a burden--and I'm thinking of throwing it out the window and then claiming the real love that's been locked up because of it--if it hasn't yet faded...

Anyway. There is nothing like babysitting a five and nine-year-old to lift your spirits. We built a clothesline tent-fort, like I used to with my sisters.

Buster was very interested

It was warm and cozy and giggly inside, with a colorful and brightly lit ceiling. It's been awhile, but I know, someday, there will be more of these sunny, temporary spaces in my life to come. They may seem sorta structurally wonky, but they can hold an infinite amount of giggles, you know.