I'm currently reading this farming memoir called "Turn Here, Sweet Corn. Organic Farming Works". I'm more than halfway through, and it's still sad...still making me cry. These people keep having their land and way of life taken from them. Continuously, the soil is pillaged and turned into nothing more than a stand on which to build houses. The sacredness of growing, feeding others is completely disrespected and disregarded. How am I supposed to make it, with such limited knowledge/experience/finances? They talk of battling epic hail and storms that wash out entire crops. How does one recover from such things? How does one make a life in the face of such disaster and disappointment?
What I love about this book is how Atina describes the land, describes the soil and her family's relationship to it.
"We sit on the edge, like a great bench overlooking Cottonwood and Bluebird Valleys. The slope is a waterfall of spring color, first violets and dandelions. Wild strawberries add their delicate scent to the evening perfume."
It's just beautiful language and spoken in such a way that I really connect with. Which definitely signals to me that I am pursuing the correct line of work. I just am having such a hard time seeing the future, seeing how this all works. If I wanted to be a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, then at least there is a path (even if that path is difficult and uncertain in its own way). But being a farmer? An organic vegetable farmer with no land, no family experience, no money, and no equipment? I just don't know how that all shakes out. And that is incredibly scary to me.
Scary or not, the season presses forward. My amazing Cousin Tim has begun the heavy duty prep of the land with machines I cannot run, nor can I afford (though I totally drove a tractor to cut the weeds down on Sunday for a good 15 minutes and it was AWESOME!). The picture texts he has sent me look very encouraging. A few new tools this year should help to streamline some of the process so that we can get plants in easily and begin weed management. The farm plot has been expanded to include a total of about 2 acres now. Half will be raised beds for the tomatoes, peppers, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and broccoli. The other half will house the squashes, beans, melons, okra, and corn. The basement is brimming with strong seedlings (courtesy of a new seed starting system). I'm very encouraged by all the progress and by how much this year's operation is more and more resembling someone who actually knows what they're doing.
I guess in all of this, I need to keep reminding myself that every year (as we're on year 3 now) has brought a noticeable amount of progress and improvement. The farm today looks far better than it did this time last year, and the plan is far more sophisticated. I feel more and more that this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Food is important. The earth is important. Feeding people nutritious food that doesn't destroy the planet is perhaps the greatest contribution I could make while still on this big, beautiful, blue orb. And it's scary, and it's hard, and it's got a feeling of impossibility to it. But that just means that it's even more important that I push through and continue to get better. Cool thing of my day? I'm giving a seminar at the public library in June about container gardening for the purpose of making a pizza. And in the descriptor of the seminar I am referred to as "Allison Goodman, organic farmer". So, I guess I must be doing something right...
What I love about this book is how Atina describes the land, describes the soil and her family's relationship to it.
"We sit on the edge, like a great bench overlooking Cottonwood and Bluebird Valleys. The slope is a waterfall of spring color, first violets and dandelions. Wild strawberries add their delicate scent to the evening perfume."
It's just beautiful language and spoken in such a way that I really connect with. Which definitely signals to me that I am pursuing the correct line of work. I just am having such a hard time seeing the future, seeing how this all works. If I wanted to be a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, then at least there is a path (even if that path is difficult and uncertain in its own way). But being a farmer? An organic vegetable farmer with no land, no family experience, no money, and no equipment? I just don't know how that all shakes out. And that is incredibly scary to me.
Scary or not, the season presses forward. My amazing Cousin Tim has begun the heavy duty prep of the land with machines I cannot run, nor can I afford (though I totally drove a tractor to cut the weeds down on Sunday for a good 15 minutes and it was AWESOME!). The picture texts he has sent me look very encouraging. A few new tools this year should help to streamline some of the process so that we can get plants in easily and begin weed management. The farm plot has been expanded to include a total of about 2 acres now. Half will be raised beds for the tomatoes, peppers, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and broccoli. The other half will house the squashes, beans, melons, okra, and corn. The basement is brimming with strong seedlings (courtesy of a new seed starting system). I'm very encouraged by all the progress and by how much this year's operation is more and more resembling someone who actually knows what they're doing.
I guess in all of this, I need to keep reminding myself that every year (as we're on year 3 now) has brought a noticeable amount of progress and improvement. The farm today looks far better than it did this time last year, and the plan is far more sophisticated. I feel more and more that this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Food is important. The earth is important. Feeding people nutritious food that doesn't destroy the planet is perhaps the greatest contribution I could make while still on this big, beautiful, blue orb. And it's scary, and it's hard, and it's got a feeling of impossibility to it. But that just means that it's even more important that I push through and continue to get better. Cool thing of my day? I'm giving a seminar at the public library in June about container gardening for the purpose of making a pizza. And in the descriptor of the seminar I am referred to as "Allison Goodman, organic farmer". So, I guess I must be doing something right...