Our Story

I blame this photo for my new love & fascination for farming.  

The man in front is my Grandfather.
The man to the right, with a hat and hands folded behind his back, is my Grandma's father.
The little boy hard at work to the left, my dad [some things never change].
The scene is in Ireland, a place I've felt a deep, overwhelming connection to from my very first visit.
I am blessed to have a father who believes we should retrace our steps.
We should experience life, smell the air, see the place of those we call family.

I remember walking into the home my grandmother was raised in, looking out into the farm her siblings tended to, standing in the church my grandparents got married in, and feeling a sense of comfort and peace.  It was a feeling I had yet to experience before, yet it was familiar, all at the same time.

For some reason, I didn't feel as though I were simply experiencing the history of my family but rather the introduction to my own story.  A story that was being written long before I even got here.  Maybe this photo, my past, served as an overture- to the melody I would now hum along too.  Maybe this explains why I feel the true essence of community at a farmers' market.  Why I believe in the earth providing all we need and find that when we step back, allowing the seasons and rivers and sun to lead, the sweetest fruit is grown and the most nutritious vegetables dwell in the soil.

I can't help bite into a pear or slice open a grapefruit and be completely amazed.
How did this grow?  How did sweet, sour, bitter and juicy fuse into one and make this.  Who plucked this from a vine or off a tree or yanked it out of the ground so I could enjoy it.
And how can I thank you?

Despite my new [or always there, just waiting to break through] interest in farming I have much to learn in this arena.  I am so thankful for this year of being surrounded by food and growing patterns, for it has taught me so much.

Although I still fall short.
I have never farmed a day in my life [couldn't tell you the name of the tool my grandpa & father are holding]

I try my very hardest to eat in season & local but sometimes, often, I give in.
[That slice of pineapple on my burger last week certainly did not grow in Connecticut] 

I love flowers.  Sunflowers reign on my list of favorites.  Yet I have never had a garden of my own.

Some vegetables still confuse me.  I want to remain open & try each kind but fail.  Kohlrabi is delicious but looks bizarre.  Eggplant remains a challenge to cook.  I know it has possibilities but somehow I am always left with something that tastes rather dull.

I admit these things not to make myself feel bad but rather to let them go.  To release them & know that while I have a long way to go, I am overjoyed of the steps I have made.

It is rather exciting to know how layered we are & how our own self can surprise us.

This photo effortlessly demonstrates a beginning of plowing the ground and a paving the way for me to do my best in planting some seeds..