DAY OFF DAY.
It's around 6:30 a.m., I'm drinking coffee, writing this post, chatting with my beautiful wife, watching Further adroitly manipulate his bouncer, and just generally relaxing. And it feels amazing. Usually at this time I would be anxiously pounding away at an upcoming article while haphazardly preparing breakfast so that I could get into the fields. But not today. Today is Sunday, and I'm taking the darn thing off.I haven't been taking days off this year. Not really. It's been too busy, and we've been shorthanded. Of course, not taking days off is very common for farmers. And since we dry farm––that is, we do not use irrigation––we don't always get to have the luxury of choosing which days work best to take off. If the soil is ready, we work.But I've realized I need these days off. I need a consistent day that I can just do what I want to do without the pressure of the garden weighing on me. The pigs still have to be fed, and the chickens, cats and dog. But I have been overdoing it a lot lately. I vomited while picking garlic this year. I caught myself on the verge of exhaustion or dehydration multiple times. Stress has been high. This, as you can imagine, is not sustainable.Sustainability, of course, is the goal. We say it often, but sustainability is not just about how you farm, but how you feel after farming. It needs to be viewed holistically. One can not be sustainable if they are going down several days a year due to overworking.So Sundays it is. And when it can't be Sundays (like in the Spring when you literally might only get one day a week to work the soil), it will be another day. If we are going to make this a sustainable life, we need a day off. We need a day to chat, drink coffee, make faces at babies and write blog posts about it, because that's what we want to do. Of course, as I finish this post––I kid you not––I look out into our yard and see a piggy on the loose. Oh well. Perhaps days off are more of a state of mind, which will have to be good enough today.- Jesse.
THE HEAT IS ON.
This will be our 5th year of living without electricity - without air conditioning. And truly, it is not so bad. There are always some rough spells during the summers – a few 100-degree days that are just pretty nasty. But when you work outside all day, coming back to a chilly, air-conditioned house makes the outside seem that much worse. Once your body gets acclimated to the temperatures, when your body does the work to cool itself, it is not so bad. Really!THAT BEING SAID – we are having a hard time adjusting this summer. I can’t exactly pinpoint why, but I have my ideas. First, the past couple of mild summers have spoiled us. We didn’t have 100-degree days, or 100 percent humidity, in June. This past week contained four consecutive scorchers with choking humidity. No thank you. Second, we have never had a summer with a baby before. We have to consider him when deciding whether to tough it out in the blazing sun to try to finish that last row of garlic. Jesse and I can deal with a little bit too much sun or heat, but it’s not just about us anymore. Plus, when it comes specifically to ME, I have a tiny, sweaty, hotbox of a human suctioned onto me for most of the day. If he isn’t literally attached to me, I am wearing him in a carrier or holding him or sleeping next to him– which is just so, so unpleasant when it is this hot.But of course, as I write this, the heat wave has broken, and we have survived, as we always do. The heat has brought on the tomatoes, corn, and melons, and we employed some new coping mechanisms: we went to the creek every day, I fanned myself with prefold diapers while nursing Further, we closed up the windows and curtains during the day to try to preserve that little bit of cool air from the nights, and we only went into town for ice cream once.- Hannah.
BABY'S FIRST TRICK.
So long as Further turns out to be respectful and polite—to us and to others—Hannah and I will consider our parenting a success. So it would only seem natural that the very first thing we would teach him is to stick his tongue out at us.We read that babies his age––somehow two months, already––will mimic your face. If you open your mouth, they'll copy, or if you stick out your tongue, they'll follow suit. And after our midwife told us that getting him to stick out his tongue will help strengthen his tongue muscles and in turn improve his nursing abilities, we decided to give it a shot.The first few times we tried, Further seemed incredulous. In fact, we've been sticking our tongues out at him for a couple weeks now, and all we've been getting is a look of skepticism or indifference. Then the other day it just clicked, and he has spent the last few days sticking his tongue out at us, followed by hysterical laughter. It's one of the most joyous experiences I've ever been a part of. And that's how it starts, right? First it's the tongue and next thing we know we'll be teaching him his numbers, and how to get over a broken heart. I wonder if I'll treasure every milestone like I treasure this one, like I treasured his first smile of recognition. Knowing me, I probably will. I will look forward to every new milestone, and every thing he learns, even when we have to one day teach him not to stick his tongue out at people––because, you know, it's rude.- Jesse.
THE FATHERHOOD CRAFT.
When I first started applying for farming internships in 2009, I had Further in mind. I mean, I didn't know he would be a boy, when he would arrive or his name, but I knew that when I did have a child, I wanted to be ready. I wanted to be in a place where I could teach him about things he could use––about growing food, and foraging and living off the land.Because at that time, here is what I knew: I knew a fair bit about wine. I knew a superbly useless amount about Prohibition. I knew Kentucky Basketball, books, and the bars of NYC. What I didn't know was how beets grew. Or how to keep that stupid basil plant I bought every year alive. I didn't know how to build anything, fix anything, or anything about engines––small or large. And I was vividly aware of this.So in deciding to become a farmer, I was hoping to remedy some of that. Then with the help of our mentors, Eric and Cher, I definitely did. I am a much more capable human today than I was six years ago. I can grow food, build things, fix others, and what I can't, I now know how to find the people who can.But still, for Further's sake I can't help but wish I knew more. I wish I had started earlier. I was telling Hannah the other night, I want to be the best father I can be, but I will always be painfully aware of my limitations as a carpenter, as a mechanic, as a woodworker, a musician, or you name it. With that said, I've come to realize that being a good father may require me to accept my faults or deficiencies and, like it is when I need something fixed, turn to knowledgeable people to help teach Further what I can't. He will have to grow up knowing Papa doesn't have all the answers, and I will have to be okay with that. Maybe it's culture, or maybe it's nature, but I'm finding the ego is strong in parenthood. But perhaps letting that go is the first step to being a good father. The second step, well, maybe the second step is just caring this much.- Jesse.