I'm not feeling clever enough to come up with anything entertaining or witty...

I wonder what that says about me or about this season. At my coffeeshop of choice in Port Townsend. My barista just threw out three espressos before she pulled one she felt satisfied in serving to me. It was delicious. It's been beautiful the last few weeks...for the most part, but it still hasn't really gotten anything like what I'd call hot. I've been unbelievably busy for weeks; trying vainly to keep up with the food in the garden, and enjoy the bounty of the season. It was such a late start all over, and at Solstice in particular it seemed like we only just started getting summer crops, and now somehow it's September. Being down in the valley I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that we don't get an early frost, so I have some time to make some pickles before all of my cukes get dead. The garden is full of food, and the pigs are getting fat fat fat. This spring's lambs are so big I scarcely recognize them, and the ram, Charlemagne, our farm's newest addition is huge.

I'll try and get some pictures posted in the near future, but it's quite time consuming, much more so than just writing some of the goings on, so you at least have an idea of my state of mind.

This goat died, last weekend. It came as a shock, we had not planned on slaughtering them until they had gotten a little bigger, but the poor little guy fell down a hole and broke his neck, and it was a freak accident, no one's fault, and I got over to the land where we were pasturing them, and eviscerated him, skinned him, and got him into the freezer. I'm in the process of tanning his hide, and am planning on having a big party next weekend to celebrate his life the best way we know how...eating him, of course. I'll try and get some pictures of the event, and take the time to actually post them.

I got a couple of flats of peaches from Eastern Washington last week, and have filled my freezer with slices to last me through the winter. Also, on the fruit front, at the co op, I discovered a whole pile of Charentais melons, also from Eastern WA, and I've been eating them instead of meals for three days. It's the height of summer, and if you accept the fact that cukes and zucchini and eggplants and tomatoes are all fruit, then I'd say that my diet these days is about ninety five percent fruit, and five percent basil. I'm just fine with that.

I've been covering some shifts at one of the yarn shops in Port Townsend, which almost seems unfair, given how hard I have to work to earn money farming, getting paid to sit and knit feels almost dishonest.

It does unfortunately mean that I've been busy six days most weeks, which leaves little enough time for relaxation or decompression. I suppose I'll be able to do those things in two months when the crops have died, and there is less work to do.

As far as my plans for after the season go, the FIELD program ends at the close of November, and I'll be staying at Solstice at least through the middle of January. Jim and Linda are taking a vacation to the East coast from the middle of December until then, and I'll be watching the farm with Jen and Sean. I'm looking forward to it, actually. After that I'll try and come and visit everyone; I'd like to spend some time in California, and, DC and Atlanta, before moving on to whatever I'll be doing next year.

As for what that will entail...well...I'm of two minds about that. Part of me wants nothing more than to find a piece of land and start farming. Another part of me wants to travel around, and continue doing what I am doing, essentially, learning from people, and enjoying the rhythm of the seasons and the company of farm folk. Part of me wants to do that, but try and do it across an ocean or two, maybe spend some time farming in a place where there are actual summers, but then I think of how sweaty a Georgia summer can be, and I'm not so sure about that. I know a farmer who asked me about perhaps leasing some of her property to raise some livestock on next year, which would be a great learning experience, and would require less capital investment on my part than actually getting a farm started will.

Life is pretty well up in the air.

I could do so many things, and some of them are quite appealing. Others would be a good idea in the same way that it's a good idea to eat your vegetables and to brush your teeth regularly.

Most of the interns who were here for the summer session have left. Friends going away, and moving on to other things. It will be interesting to see how many of them stick with agriculture, and how many of them will make the world better in other ways.

I have to take the time, now and again, to remind myself of how important the work I'm doing is. It's easy to overlook, especially when I hear nothing but the negatives from the people I'm around. I know that some of you don't really understand why I'm doing what I'm doing, some days I wonder about it myself. I'm not trying to save the world. I'm just trying to live a life that doesn't contribute to the downward spiral, and one that I find satisfying and enjoyable.

Even on the days when all that we do is shovel shit.

My most-common pithy quote on farming is that it boils down to two things:

Moving shit(often the shit is actually shit).

And choosing what lives and what dies(crops, weeds, livestock, and the people who we feed).

It's easy to say that no one's going to starve if Red Dog brings no carrots to market. It's true. As long as the systems that exist now for feeding the masses continue, and there are plenty of smart people who say that they won't, not forever, and so rebuilding the infrastructure that will allow communities to feed themselves is of utmost importance.

So do me a favor...if you've got the chance. Go buy something from a farmer. Don't complain about expensive how those carrots or salad greens are. They're worth it. A human being toiled over those plants, and you'd not believe how much work a carrot entails. While you're at it, cook for each other. I wish I could be there to cook for all of you. I know how busy life can be, and I freely admit that sometimes I'm too tired to cook, but I promise you that I cook a meal for myself at least twice a day, and I know you work hard, but I promise you that you're not working any harder than I am.

Wow, that got preachy, didn't it?

Sorry. I'm at a place in my life where I no longer feel the need to rail against the things I see around me that I can't change that I think I should be able to, but sometimes I still need to say the things that I believe, a little louder than I should, in a public place, where some kid at the next table might overhear me, and might decide for themselves that you know what, how we feed ourselves is important. It's the one thing, aside from water, that none of us, man or woman, animal or plant, can do without. Food is life.

I hope you're all doing well. I'll try and keep updating this blog for as long as I can, and will probably be able to do more as the year progresses. Next week I'll see if I can't just post a bunch of pictures even if I can't manage to write anything.

Two nights ago, at Finn River I sat under the stars, surrounded by farm folk, enjoying a dessert pot luck, and watching The Green Horns, a documentary about young farmers. If you've got the time, give it a watch. It's nice, even if the narrator's voice can be a little grating. It's easy to get bogged down in the day to day details of living in the country and caring for plants and animals, but it can be more satisfying than anything else I've ever done.

I'm going to end with a simple anecdote. Last Sunday, I had plans to see a movie, but could not, because we had hay down in the field, and a rainy front moving in. We bucked hay, loading it onto a flat bed trailer, and storing it in the barn. As I stood on top of the pile, organizing the bales, and breathing deeply in the scent of drying grass I couldn't help but smile, knowing, beyond doubt, that somewhere there was a Wall street banker working on the weekend, who would have wanted nothing more than be in a barn somewhere breathing in the scent of hay, and working at something tangible.