Returning to our fruit roots at the farm. Photo by Rob McClure
We have made the tough decision to sunset our CSA program. I have made an equally tough decision to take a hiatus from wedding flower work (o.k. so I do have a couple of June weddings on the books, where peonies and perennials are at their prime). Wow! This is a big shift as many of you have been with us for decade(s).
I could say that it’s the woodchucks that are making me do this. When I started farming with Rob in 2008-2009 season, our vegetable beds were overrun with woodchucks. Since then we seemed to have had a truce, wherein they left the broccoli and fruit alone in exchange for all the clover and forage in our sprawling field borders. That is up until this season, wherein the next generation of ‘chuckers’ managed to tunnel from the old barn foundation, burrow under our fence and re-surface right next to our beans. I had to admire their engineering and spatial sensibilities, even as they leveled the blossoms and went onto the carrot tops.
Woodchucks aside, my goal of slowing down, taking a sabbatical from production farming this season didn’t really happen, as a few wildcards and labor needs needed to be a priority. It's all good, though it’s also really hard as the farm is home. I love growing food and beauty and sharing this with you. I love plants though need to shift and restore balance. While I am grateful for the humane growing season, wedding flower re-books from last year, a few writing projects that brought joy, and just in time support when the harvests seemed endless, my body is telling me I can’t do it all anymore and I need to pause and listen to it.
I have decided to step back from the business of farming, focus on orchard care and re-connect with my garden roots. This is scary and makes me feel vulnerable, brings up emotions of self-doubt, and that I am letting people down, let alone what do I now do for a profession? Though haven’t I always said, ‘when in doubt, turn to wonder?’ So I am wondering how to find continuity, transition with and embrace the next transformation of plants in my life. I am (mostly) o.k. in this uncertainty and I hope you are too. I value the heartfelt connections I’ve made with you and all our CSA members, fruit and flower customers and wedding flower clients. You have helped my heart expand and learn from these relationships and I hope to welcome to the farm, relax with flowers in a new way.
I think of all the ways that plants have shown up in my life.
From the first bite of solid food, to the fire cider infusing in my current kitchen, to the trees I climbed and daydreamed in as a kid to the thousands I planted around the world with others and in my backyard as an adult, to the dandelion crowns made in kindergarten to the flower coutre dresses I designed for Slow Flowers, for all the weddings, funerals, and just because bouquet moments to share sentiments with others and the land, not to mention the air that has sustained me and the shelter overhead are all from our plant neighbors.
As November’s soapstone grey settles into the landscape and juncos forecast the cold, I look out the kitchen window and our roses are still blooming to the frosty end. I am grateful for this reminder to keep going, growing and changing with the inter-connectedness of all things. I am grateful for all the ways you have showed up and supported me along the way. I have no doubt that plants will feed my creativity and be a source of healing, learning, and sharing and with whatever is to come. - ES