Ferocious Farm

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Mardi, Juillet 6, 2010 - Lundi, Juillet 19, 2010

Friday night after the harvest

Posted Monday, July 19
by Scott Cecchin

Spent most of the day pruning and tying up tomato plants. Discovered that I love pruning tomato plants. I can’t even exactly say why. (“the most familiar sounds, but I can’t quite place it”) There is something actually quite enjoyable about spending time by myself with the tomatoes. So easy to get lost in myself and my thoughts. Meditative, almost. It’s good time spent alone, something I wasn’t getting during the bike tour. 

It’s interesting to think of how I share myself with the tomato plants. My petty, vast, tiny, important thoughts. Whether or not the plants are indifferent, I can’t say. But I think they accept my thoughts as they are, become a part of them. But of course the plants must be sharing themselves with me as well -their thoughts becoming a part of me as well. Do I listen? Maybe they become me without my consciousness. Maybe that’s okay too.

Jean-Pierre (re)taught me to look around. See your surroundings. How beautiful everything is. How utterly beautiful and full of energy everything is. I have these moments here on the farm, where I look around and see how alive it all is. Perhaps it’s in contrast to focusing too strongly on only what’s in your hands: the task at hand. We forget to look around at the bigger picture of our surroundings. (“not just listening to music, experiencing it”) 

Being with the tomatoes I get lost, but find myself again in my surroundings. I look at the sky, and learn something I told myself to forget. 

That energy of every tiny living thing of the earth: of course the earth is a god.

The tomato vines leave their mark on my fingers. Teach me something about soap and water: our tiny notions of clean.

The children smile, throw cedar leaves at our supper. They teach us something about our tiny notions of proper manners.

They smile, tricksters.

The trees glow. The trees are on fire with their living.

I look down. The tomato vine lies on the ground. I am put in charge of telling them how to stand. Properly. I lift the vine, delicately. I see the miracle of bodies: the vine decides to grow roots where ever it touches the ground. An intelligence that is beyond our comprehension. Teaches us something about Being. Something these fragile words could never convey. I say no. I lift these newly created roots up, vertical, into their proper position.

Teaches me something about myself. How I was and will be this vine, no matter my present manifestation.

I understand that I am not spending time by myself.

I understand I love these plants, their tender roots, because I love myself.

Realizing that what once appeared as selfish is an all-present love which is beyond our tiny notions of Self.

I cut. I tie, beyond the realm of right and wrong.

Shifting my way down this row, I remember that I have been here before, during my first week in this place. I am taken back to a moment which lives forever, without past or future. (those ideas being merely human) I am taken back to Stephanie’s words, the sweetness of distance. The sweetness of moments passed which simply are, always.

These rows, this curving vine, remind me that I am a psychedelic river. “this path that life has taken me on. Understand the universe conspired to bring us here. Understand that we both have things to teach, places to lead”.




Maybe I need a “Chore-o-meter”? (wah, wah.. Inside Otesha joke, sorry!)

Posted July 6
by Monique

Who would of thought that, one day, iiiiiiI would be doing “chores”.

I grew up in a village (Wartburg. Yep. Wart-Burg) surrounded by Dutch pig farmers. Some days, when the wind blew a certain direction, I could smell the one chicken barn across the way.

And all my friends were farmers. Sort of. Well, I’m not too sure, really.

You see… they had biiiig barns that had a red and a green light on the outside, and I only ever saw people go in or out when the red came on. I never saw any pigs, or chickens, and I was told the corn was not for being eaten (not by us, anyway). But, a couple of my school friends did mention every once in a while about how early they had to get up to do “chores”.

Make their bed? Wash the dishes? Bathe the dog?

Who knows. Here on Aubin Farm, though, I was on chore duty this week:

7:30 am- Clean out baby turkeys’ water dish. Fill up water dish. Feed them. Feed medium sized hens. Feed medium sized turkey (all of them organic feed mix). Feed three different groups of laying hens. Steal their eggs. OH… I almost forgot: Turn on irrigation system in greenhouse… turn of when doen chores.


And that’s just the beginning of the day!

A typical day (I’ll give you our FIRST day on the farm as an example) begins at 7:30 with chores and either potato bug picking or weeding. We do that until breakfast at around 10 am. From then until a later lunch we’ll do summore of the later or perhaps harverst for the market or customer boxes (we’ve ALREADY harvested: garlic, onion, carrot, beans, sweet peas, swiss chard, all sorts of lettuce, raddish (sp?), and more! greenhouses are amazing!). After lunch we will do more… weeding? or clean produce and pack boxes or pick more potato bugs. The work never ends! Most days we keep on keeping busy until the sun begins to fade away.

Let me tell you, though. After all these “chores” so far, food has never tasted better.