Making and Breaking

I’m a little late in announcing it and I’m sure many of you already know, but I am now finished with my time at the farm. I left after the first weekend of November, and the parting brought many mixed feelings.

I am happy to be away from the many frustrations, both small and large, that the farm brought to me in the form of inefficiency and sloppy work habits. I am glad to be back home working with my dad, where I can be as obsessively organized and intentional as I wish I could have been all year. Unfortunately, these are not character traits that were present or encouraged at the farm. I am also very much done with CSAs. I understand how they make financial sense for the farmer, but I am sick of trying to please everyone when one person says “No more Asian greens!” and the next cries out “Keep the Asian greens coming please!” So while I am grateful for all I have learned at the farm, I look forward to finding a new farm for next year, where organization and efficiency are valued.

But my departure also brought sadness in the parting from all my friends. I have met so many people this summer, become a part of so many communities, that to just pack up and drive off felt deeply unsettling. We performed at our last open mic the night before I left, and amid gifts and hugs said goodbye to the owner of the restaurant, the bartender, the open mic hosts, and all the regulars who I had come to know and like. I never thought I would be a regular at a bar, much less know the bartender’s name. One group I was particularly sad to leave was my knitting group. They are all such great knitters and are so generous, they gave me lots of knitting advice and help, and were beginning to make me a much better knitter. I felt lucky to have them, and I will miss them sorely. I met another girl about my age who is equally obsessed with knitting, and we immediately connected. The camera phone photos we have been exchanging of our knitting will not begin to come close to actually being together. We went out for bowling and karaoke with the unnamed dairy farmer and his girlfriend in our last week on the farm. I will miss them a lot partly because they are such nice people, but also because the farmer is so knowledgeable, and has taught me so much. I wish I could absorb everything he knows by osmosis, because I think it would take too long to explain it all.

Last, though most important, are these two boys.


















I set off for my farming adventures knowing only that I would be living with two older men. I kept my cool about it, amid much teasing, but really I was a bit apprehensive. Turns out I am the luckiest girl in the world.

We have been through a lot together: the first few intense “I have to live with you so quick, tell me everything about yourself” conversations, confusion, frustration, hilarity and delight, long car trips, miserable weather, The Worst Job Ever (garlic harvest day), nights out, camping trips, hippies in giant bathtubs, beautiful, perfect days, long-running inside jokes, that time during mosquito season when I didn’t even want to look at either of them, and a really gross compost bucket. Somehow, we came out the other side as a family. They are the best brothers I could ask for, and I will miss living with them a lot.

This was my first experience being completely on my own, away from my parents and the ready-made community of college, and it has given me confidence that wherever I go, no matter how few people I know there, I can meet people, and build myself a community.




The road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began
Now far ahead the road has gone
And I must follow if I can.