FATHER-TASKING.

My son caught me talking to myself the other day. This isn't unusual. I've accepted talking to myself as a requisite part of being a writer. I talk to myself in order to work through ideas that sound reasonable in my head, though may not, and often don't, aloud. But bemused and a little curious, holding his large bouncy ball with both hands, Further just stared at me. Suddenly embarrassed, I stopped talking and stared back.You see, Hannah needed a chance to do some work around the house without Further undoing it, so he and I went on a little walk down the road. Further was throwing the ball, mostly at Wendell or Charlie, and I was taking the opportunity to work out ideas for an article, absently chasing the ball down when it got away. So out loud, pacing back and forth, I was conducting an interview with a professor I was planning to call the next day. In other words, though technically walking with my son, I was somewhere else entirely.Because the reality is, I can't just do one thing. I am a chronic, borderline obsessive multi-tasker, physically uncomfortable doing just one thing, even when it's taking a walk with my son. And though I used to think this was a positive trait, one that would get me ahead in the world, I now as a father wish I could turn it on and off, that I could be fully with my son when I'm with him, not just as a guardian, but a participant in his life.He's growing fast. He's developing his speech, constructing sentences, having opinions, running, jumping, dancing, singing. It's a lot of fun. Hannah pointed out the other day that I couldn't wait for him to be old enough to play with. Yet here we were, our chance to play together, and I couldn't see anything but my work.The phrase "to live in the moment" has always bothered me a little. I don't know why. Perhaps something about it felt evocative of new-agey privilege, that I can be so fulfilled in my needs as to be able to remove myself from the world and just bask in my riches. But I get it now. It isn't about being with yourself. Living in the moment is about finding the things that are important to you and those around you then being with them when they're there. It's a different kind of multi-tasking. It's the kind that instead of doing two different things at once, one part of you deletes your distractions while the other part bends down, holds out his arms in the shape of a basketball hoop, and says the words he should have been saying aloud since he started this walk with his son, "Further, you wanna dunk it?

MISSING OUT.

I wanted to go. I mean, I was tired, we'd just spent the whole day at market, but listening to a lecture by Joel Salatin––whom I'd never met, only read many books by––sounded like a nice cap to the evening. So after market, Hannah, Further and I walked over to the conference center, chatted with some friends, and sat down.However, Further, I could tell, was not going to have it. He was too tired––parent's will know what I mean. He was wound up and dissatisfied with anything that resembled sitting in a seminar. So a few seconds after Joel started his talk, I had to leave with Further.Outside the room, I could hear Salatin doing his thing––railing, ranting, being himself (he does a notably superb southern gentleman impression). Further, however, wanted to run.So that's what we did. He ran up and down the hallways as I lumbered behind him tiredly. We circled the building, occasionally hearing laughter or applause make its way to my emotions. Because I would be lying it I said I didn't have moments of jealousy, of disappointment in missing out. But you know what, I liked watching my son. I liked knowing Hannah was in there enjoying herself, getting a nice break from being the one who chases child. I was having father/son time and it was, when I would look down at my son, lovely. Further was having a blast––he wasn't missing a thing.At some point, maybe an hour in, we came to a room with another young boy. His father introduced himself and we got to talking. The man, perhaps Mennonite, told me this was his eighth child, about eleven months old. "Eight," I commented joshingly, "That's a fair amount of little ones."He said they had always wanted a big family, but insisted you have to be able to provide for each one of them. But by provide, he wasn't referring to food or shelter. At least not entirely. He was referring to having a good relationship with each one. This to me was a strikingly beautiful sentiment, and it stopped me for a second. Here we both were, missing a seminar we had both wanted to attend, but spending time with our sons. I realized in talking to this father of eight, while his little boy crawled over him as mine bounced off the walls, we weren't missing out at all. Joel we missed. Everything else that mattered, we experienced entirely.-Jesse. HERE is Jesse's review of Joel's newest book for Hobby Farms.

THIS & THAT.

Some random photos from the past week.We have lots of green tomatoes...but we are especially excited about these sauce tomatoes!We have a radish thief problem around here.This lovely fellow wandered up the driveway for a visit this week.The MOST AMAZING moth Olivia found - a cecropia moth - the largest in North America!Honeybees on cleanup crew.A very dirty, very worn out Further after a long harvest day. 

CABIN UPDATE: LET THERE BE LIGHT.

This weekend our dear friends David and Sarah Ladnier are here for their annual (at least we hope it's annual) visit. And with them, they brought their two wonderful boys... and light.You see, a few months back I contacted David about helping us set up a mini solar system, something that could power the Internet. For three years we have relied entirely on going into town to post for our blog, check email, anything. For a while I had 4G, so I could drive up on the hill and stand in the exact right spot to get some internet. But that was obviously not efficient. Nor was driving to town. So we needed a fix.We had a solar fence charger we weren't using and David thought we could convert it to what amounts to a small voltage regulator in a beautiful cigar box, "I couldn't bring a plastic box to this amazing cabin," he told us laughing. He also as a surprise (and a bonus) rigged this box to charge a small LED light that basically illuminates the entire house, no sweat.We have asked David, if he gets the time, to detail how it works as best he can for a blog post and I really hope he does. It is an unbelievably neat, relatively simple system, and maybe an idea other off-grid growers––or anyone, really––might be able to utilize.Words are hardly capable of describing how lucky we are to have such amazing and ingenious friends. We have met so many wonderful people through this blog and they continue to enrich our lives every day. The amount of time spent keeping this site going has definitely made us question whether it was worth doing sometimes. But friends like David and Sarah––who we may not know without the blog––eliminated that question. It has definitely been worth it. They are great company, inspiring people (who built their own amazing house), and we are proud to have them in our lives. So with that said, with Internet and light officially in the cabin––this being the first post ever from the comfort of our home––we just have to say thank you all so much for reading, thank you David and Sarah, let the blog roll on, let there be light.-Jesse.