The Good Earth: This Must Be the Place
Written by Daisy Roberts
Sept 12
Wow. Where to begin writing my last TGE blog post of the summer-- a summer of the most lovely sunsets sparking through the trees, of fresh air and weird tan lines, of cicada screams and kittens and smoothie beers and late nights on the deck and Chinese lanterns and meeting dreamy Austrian motorcyclists and pizza nights and so very much more. A summer of letting the day lead me through it as each fresh task and wandering cat demanded my attention. May and June saw me transplanting endless trays of mysterious green babies, watering and tending to them devotedly in spite of their mysteries. July saw me weeding, sweaty and sunburnt through the scorching heat, destroying weeds with frightening fervor only to see their sly stems sprouting again too soon. And sweet relief of August saw me finally harvesting: the most straightforwardly rewarding summer session of tickling orange cherry tomatoes out from their lush, green hiding spots and wading through the weeds (who always win, despite the best of manual efforts) in search of bright ripe melons and winter squash, washing starchy yellow pollen off my hands and legs at the end of the days. Of twisting through the cucumber vines, shafts of sun alighting the beautiful green body of a cuke as he waits for me to see and hold and admire him. Of assembling boxes for our dear CSA friends, building each one with hopes that the fresh, vibrant veggies might bring each recipient delight and sustain another week of health and wellness. Of dropping off boxes, sharing in the special space of community that these veggies invite us to fill with our excited discussions of each week's new additions and that eggplant's remarkably special shade of purple. Working in the garden each day has tethered me to the earth and her awesome mysteries in ways I don't think I could have understood from any other experience. It's also amazing what such intentional time spent outside tending to life can do for the wellness of a mind-- I have certainly been lucky enough to reap the benefits.
But the farm work has been a collection of tiles in the mosaic of my summer at the Good Earth farm. From early on I was introduced to many new faces and I was happy to realize that although I was to be the only summer intern, my summer would be far from lonely. I quickly came to appreciate the random guests who’d arrive to sit and hangout in the bar or on the deck with Jeff and Nancy (and me! I decided to insert myself anywhere and everywhere, because why shouldn’t I?). What a perfect situation: getting to be social, but without the hassle of arranging plans. And then I accidentally came to love everyone with whom we spent special post-pizza late nights, playing music on Jeff's majestic speakers and nearly setting stuff on fire with our efforts to light Chinese lanterns into the starry skyscape, getting peer pressured into playing my guitar for groups of strangers, and talking with wonderful people against the sparkling backdrop of fireflies across the prairie. Gosh, what lovely memories I have to carry with me.
It never ceases to both amaze and unnerve me how easily I could have ended up somewhere else this summer. Of the many different options I was considering, The Good Earth Farm and my 10 minute phone interview with Nancy resonated in a way that I felt called to honor with intentional action to make it happen. It seems to just be further justification for an idea that I already hold close: that everything works out. That life is at our back, propelling us through the tangles and delights of aliveness, and that with an eye and an ear turned inward, we can let our own intuition and the propeller of life be enough to get us exactly wherever we are. While I’m not a religious lady, the quote that comes to mind is Hafiz’s “This place where you are now God circled on a map for you.” I could probably delete this whole rambling reflection and let that quote be enough to tell you what this summer has been for me.
I remember the first week I was on the farm, I had a vivid dream of being in the airport getting ready to fly to Costa Rica (which is my next destination! I’ll be studying abroad there for 3 months. Send me good energies just in case!). In my dream I remember thinking, with such a visceral ache, that I was really going to miss being on the farm. I feel this same ache as I think about it now, too, and I have had this dream over and over again during my time here. I am grateful, because this reminder of brevity has helped me to be as wholly present to each experience as has been possible for me-- to each moment of brainstorming solutions with Nancy to the many surprise challenges that present themselves each day, to every single time we listen to the Talking Heads “This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)”, to each delicious bite of farm grown dinner, every kitten snuggle, all the post event rehashing and configuring and number crunching to try to find a way to keep this wonderful little farm afloat**.
As I stare September in the face, trying not to be afraid of what’s next or too sad about how I am doomed to drive away from this place and these people I so love, I am reminded of another quote that I read on the inside of a sympathy card many years ago while stocking cards at Trader Joe’s and which I copied down on a piece of receipt paper and have carried in my phone case ever since (why? I’m not sure. Maybe so I would have it for this very moment. Oh universe, you wonderful and eternally mysterious thing):
All we have enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes part of us.
So I guess I’m saying thank you to all who have been involved with this most lovely summer, and for all of you who support this wonderful farm and its one of a kind critters and its remarkable caretakers Nancy and Jeff. Thank you for filling my heart and letting me carry this into the bright, temporarily tropical unknown that awaits. The Good Earth Farm-- this must be the place ❤️
*A note about this: Nancy and Jeff will probably hate me for this but it’s my blog post so I feel justified to make the executive calls. Growing veggies doesn’t pay the bills. It especially doesn't pay the bills for Harold, Charlie, T-Bone, Rex, Maria, Rita, 20 chickens, 8 stray cats (and 5 PRECIOUS kittens) and one kombucha addicted intern. Thus, in attempts to keep the farm for as long as possible and maintain their diligent caretaking of our beloved animal friends, pizza nights have taken shape as not only a source of much needed income but also as a full circle realization of the farm as a space of community rooted in celebration of nature and of sustainably cultivated wellness through fresh, delicious food. So come out, come out! Celebrate the space and support your farmers! Tell your family and friends and neighbors and kind strangers you meet about the farm and the next pizza night. Next summer, I hope TGE is the talk of the town-- a space for lovers of nature, pizza, music, animals, community, and life to come and revel in this healing space. You could also buy all your Christmas gifts from TGE-- shirts, hats, mugs, koozies, honey, salsa, gift cards, oh my! Anyway, just a candid moment to shamelessly invite you to share whatever support you can sustainably offer. Much love!
Until next time (-:
Daisy