work it

Starting a farm is a young person’s game. You want to be a farmer? Before you have kids, before you have a mortgage, before your back hurts too bad, when you can eat sleep breathe your work, strap on your boots and go.

Last night on the phone with my mom I apologized, for appearing to drop off the face of the earth, dodging phone calls and watching my inbox crest and overflow with unanswered queries. I rise before dawn these days, around five or so, propelled by this borderline manic productive energy, and still there are not enough hours in the day. My housemates think I’m slightly batty. They’re right. But I can’t help it. The long hours, the bumps and bruises, the imperfect angles and broken tools and daily frustrations, it all feels so different when it’s your own. It’s more than worth it. It’s everything.

After a week of carpentry for non-carpenters (yours truly), the seed starter greenhouse is done. It’s not perfect but it’s all mine and i couldn’t possibly be more proud of it. in the morning i’ll begin filling it with flats of seeds, onions and peas and bachelor buttons, dreams of spring, dreams of here and now.