And, as happens, right out of the gate, week one, stuff happened.
Really. Farming is the best kind of 24/7 therapy if you like in-your-face reflections daily of all your human shortcomings.
Warm, muddy weather, with not a freeze in sight. A boot-sucking muddy day with sunshine is so much more bearable than a gray dreary one, but the going is no easier.
My oldest pig Daisy passed away quietly on my birthday, which is a situation to be pondered in-depth in a later post. Not just about Daisy, she was old, and crippled, and finding a place for her within the general population has been a challenge.
A farmer better about bottom lines would have dispatched Daisy long ago, but being that kind of farmer will always be a struggle for me.
Future me will not keep Daisies. Future me will not keep Daisies. Future me will not keep Daisies… you get my drift, but it is hard to carry all the feels, and since there is always more to do than time to do it in, it is easy to allow a single aging pig to get a pass.
So, like the slap on the cheeks of a newborn’s bum, 2019 broke loose with tears and wails, but also a resolve and an awakening. I had slipped into that zombie state of treading water alone. The joy, the celebration, the striving had slumped into simply staying alive.
Which is not the way to live.
This farm is not about me. It is about accepting our call to stewardship. It is about the Daisys. And our kids. The growing of our food, the reverence for life, celebrating of our soil, and savoring the joys of our meals. Those are all things to be shared, not suffered in silence.
So, I am picking up where I drifted off. Still in that precarious place, subject to the whims of the gods of weather, processors, equipment, good health and pigs. But this year, I write. I will share, and I will include you. The changes I’ve been making behind the scenes to our digital life will soon go public, so stay tuned. New website, online store, farmstand and simpler ways to order and connect with us and our products.
And hopefully, this:
And I hope that you are still with us, and will read along. I want to do more to include you in the journey of building a food legacy for our kids.
And cook. And eat.