There’s been something on my mind lately, and that is that I often gloss over the challenges we face on the farm. Part of that is because I just don’t have time to sit down and write a detailed account of our day-to-day realities. And don’t get me wrong, a lot of what we face is also the stuff I do tell you about — the joy and gratitude we feel being able to do the work we do. And the many aspects of this life that allow us the vantage point to observe the beautiful ways small acts of intentionality and kindness can ripple far and wide into various interdependent communities — even if they don’t know the other exists (like our plant, animal, fungi, and communities beyond). I love this life we live, growing food to provide a living in a multitude of ways.
But as I’ve been learning, grief and love are intertwined. We grieve that which we love. And along with the bucolic life we lead on this farm, we also lead a life of hard work that’s really hard on our bodies — Ben most of all, since he’s the one who’s worked 12+ hour days consistently for the last 17 years. The conditions of farming are getting more challenging, too — the weather is variable and seems to be trending toward extremes, drought or flood, and funding for small and medium truly sustainable farms has decreased significantly, in a climate where there were already just pittances compared to Big Ag.
Anyway, the physical and emotional toll of farming can be overwhelming sometimes. That’s just the truth of it. This May and June were a real example of that. Ben had his emergency appendectomy, and within a month he ended up with a piece of metal in his eye — urgent care sent us on to the ER for that one. Two trips to the hospital in the span of a month, on top of everything else the season asks of us.
And here, again, I feel compelled to counter — because it’s true too — that the love of this farming life can also be overwhelming. Like in really, really great ways. Waves of grief and love.
I want to share our realities, but I haven’t figured out how to do that without sounding like I’m complaining, or incapable, or ungrateful. So I focus on the good stuff when I share in our newsletter, and sometimes in this space too. Part of the reason we do CSA is because we hope to connect with and learn from our communities. And I’m realizing I’m not doing any of us any favors when all I show is the love without the grief.
I don’t know what your why is for joining our CSA, but I do hope it goes beyond getting delicious, nutrient-dense, good, fresh produce. Because while that’s good, CSA is an attempt — a social experiment, if you will — at how we can decommodify our relationship with things, and especially with food. We do that by knowing each other, at least enough that we’re not strangers, you know. We can know each other’s names and say hi when we see each other, and even share about our lives or our thoughts, if we want to go further. But at the core, it’s about participating in a community that’s centered around growing food in a way that’s good for all of us — beyond just our bodies, beyond just gaining access to healthy food.
So, reality is complex, and I’m making it known, as much to myself as to y’all. While I don’t want to fixate on the bad and the ugly, I think I want to start sharing more of it with people — because I think it helps paint a fuller picture of what we’re doing together, this farm and our communities, to love the world and make it better than how we found it.
We face daily challenges, and I’d like to share more of them with you going forward. So be prepared for some complaining – ha. But also, we’ve also been doing this a long time — seventeen years now — and to keep going, you have to be a hopeful optimist. Otherwise you wouldn’t be working this hard to envision and build a beautiful future.
And I don’t know if this is the right space for sharing. Maybe in person is better. I’d love to learn from others too – let’s have a conversation. If you’re local, come out to the farm sometime — help me harvest some calendula or cucumbers, pull some weeds — and let’s get to know each other a little more. Send me an email or give me a call. Let’s make this happen.
In Good Heart Farm 