As some of you may know, there's a farm in my life. The farmer, Paul, is like extended family to me. His land stretches for four hundred acres over rolling hills, pastures, and riverbed. There is a group of us who camp on Paul's land from time to time, and come to hang out in general. My friend Bruce moved into a house on Paul's land with his fiancee Jess. I envy their living situation. I
dream of waking to fields and hills and farm animals. I kid you not. I spent my adolescent and teen years growing up on a farm - we had sheep, goats, chickens, peacocks, rabbits, and even a cow at one point. I loved taking long strolls through pasture and woods, and setting myself up somewhere to read a good book in the relative quiet of the outdoors. I kind of want that again.
Back to this past weekend. It was one of our "Workends," a weekend in which some of us gather to help Paul out on his farm. There is always work to do, from building stone walls for directing the river to clearing underbrush and killing invasive species of prickers.
This time, I was there for only a few hours. But the hours were rich with friendship and relaxation! We planted rows and rows of peppers - cherry, serrano, and jalapeno. Bruce shared some hungarian wax peppers that he had canned the year before with vinegar and lime. Tasty! Then Jess and I created a small feast for the few present.
A colorful, veggie-ful salad, steamed artichokes with garlic-butter, and shish-kebobs - both veggie and meat-lover. Would you believe that out of the six people eating, three of us were vegetarian? Also, got to hand it to fresh food, and home-canned!
When we were joined by some others, we went for a walk by the beehives. I stood and watched a while for foragers returning home with pollen stuck around their little legs. I can't wait to have my hive.
Eventually, we went to the pond where the big dogs swam and fetched sticks. (Malai is not a swimmer. She can swim, but she hates water.)
The below is cinquefoil, though I mistook it for wild strawberry. My friend Rose explained the difference to me. Wild strawberry has white flowers and three-fingered leaves, while cinquefoil has five leaves and blooms yellow.
My camera battery died at this point, but we walked along the henhouses and duck pond as well. Baby chicks were sitting below a heat lamp. One had died, which made Jess sad. But the rest were lively and healthy.
Oh! I almost forgot to show you. Inside their house was an incubator filled with hatching duck eggs. The hairy mess under the light in this picture is actually a Cayuga duckling.
I guess farms make me so happy not only because I frequented them as a child, but also because they symbolize hard, worthwhile work, and abundance. There is sustainability on a farm which diversifies their livestock and crops. There is life, and there is death, and there is more life. You work and live by the rhythms of nature.
Do you have a place you like to go?
