One thing I worry about a fair amount of the time is that my desired career path is too burdensome on those around me. Farming is not a singular, solitary thing. You really do need a community, you really do need the support of a network and the understanding of your loved ones. This idea of community has been strengthened year after year, and was strengthened even today. We went up to Harvard to have dinner with Cousin Tim to chat and start planning for the season. On the way, we stopped by the farm of friends we made last summer, Kathy and Dave. We haven't seen them since October and my mother has been keeping in contact about fantasy stoves with Kathy via text. As we pulled up, Dave hopped out of his truck and it was as if no time had passed at all. Well, I mean, you could believe that if you ignored all the snow and ice and imagined that the terrain was warm and green once again. Dave and Kathy were incredible resources last summer, even in something as small as understanding all the work that goes into growing. My dad, upon exiting the vehicle, jokingly declared we were there for vegetables. Dave laughed, but then took us into the garage to give us some garlic and popcorn. Both of which were super helpful, as garlic is yummy and my popcorn failed last year so now, courtesy of Dave and Kathy, we have seeds for this year. Plus, you know, some extras for eating. They've even offered, on a few occasions now, to provide us some land if ever our current situation becomes unsustainable. That level of kindness is just extraordinary to me. We've known each other for only a season, but the raising of plants can bond people together in such an intense way. It doesn't always make sense to me, but I'm always very grateful for it.
Which leads me back to my worry. The life of a farmer is not an easy one, nor is it one filled with bundles of free time. There are many occasions where your schedule is completely contingent upon your plants, upon the weather, upon the market, upon so many things that are out of your control. Would I like to go on a bunch of summer road trips? Sure. Would I like to go spend a week on Cape Cod with my best friends? Absolutely. Would I love to go to many brunches and sleep in and enjoy the best season there is in Chicago? You betcha. But I also want to grow the prettiest tomato. And it's so important to me to have food for the winter. Besides which, being on the farm with the sun on my back, dirt under my nails, the wind running through my hair, it's one of the happiest parts of me I know. And so the balance of those things is tough. Because I do not exist on my own. I do not live in a bubble that touches nothing and no one else. I have a wonderful family and a hardworking boyfriend and absolutely delightful friends. I worry it's not always fair to subject them to my schedule. To subject them to the unique needs that come with the desire to farm. Do I ditch their plans far too often? Does my deep desire for a nap in the middle of August win out more than happy hour drinks with friends? Do I make the months of March-October all about me and never about them? I love my people and never ever want to put them on the back burner. It does not pass my understanding that it would probably be infinitely easier on everybody if I were to simply work the job I'm in and have a small hobby garden at whatever residence I end up at. The balance of these two awarenesses is hard.
Getting ahead of myself is something I'm well known for. I look too far ahead, feel the emotions of things that haven't yet happened to me, and make plans for events that may not ever come to pass. And so tonight I'm trying to remind myself that I can only deal with the things that are in front of me. Who knows where I'll be in 3 years, 5 years... Freaking out about the infinite possibilities is just making me feel like I've failed before I've even begun. If I continue to work toward my big life goal of Farmer, with land and a house with a wrap-around porch and kids who play in the fields, I trust that it will all work out and all be okay. I just need to go plant a seed. It all starts with the planting of a seed...
Allison
Which leads me back to my worry. The life of a farmer is not an easy one, nor is it one filled with bundles of free time. There are many occasions where your schedule is completely contingent upon your plants, upon the weather, upon the market, upon so many things that are out of your control. Would I like to go on a bunch of summer road trips? Sure. Would I like to go spend a week on Cape Cod with my best friends? Absolutely. Would I love to go to many brunches and sleep in and enjoy the best season there is in Chicago? You betcha. But I also want to grow the prettiest tomato. And it's so important to me to have food for the winter. Besides which, being on the farm with the sun on my back, dirt under my nails, the wind running through my hair, it's one of the happiest parts of me I know. And so the balance of those things is tough. Because I do not exist on my own. I do not live in a bubble that touches nothing and no one else. I have a wonderful family and a hardworking boyfriend and absolutely delightful friends. I worry it's not always fair to subject them to my schedule. To subject them to the unique needs that come with the desire to farm. Do I ditch their plans far too often? Does my deep desire for a nap in the middle of August win out more than happy hour drinks with friends? Do I make the months of March-October all about me and never about them? I love my people and never ever want to put them on the back burner. It does not pass my understanding that it would probably be infinitely easier on everybody if I were to simply work the job I'm in and have a small hobby garden at whatever residence I end up at. The balance of these two awarenesses is hard.
Getting ahead of myself is something I'm well known for. I look too far ahead, feel the emotions of things that haven't yet happened to me, and make plans for events that may not ever come to pass. And so tonight I'm trying to remind myself that I can only deal with the things that are in front of me. Who knows where I'll be in 3 years, 5 years... Freaking out about the infinite possibilities is just making me feel like I've failed before I've even begun. If I continue to work toward my big life goal of Farmer, with land and a house with a wrap-around porch and kids who play in the fields, I trust that it will all work out and all be okay. I just need to go plant a seed. It all starts with the planting of a seed...
Allison