Back on the farm

Dirty fingernails, open heart.

I milked a goat for the first time today. Or I think it was the first time. She munched on molasses covered oats as I took a hand to her udder. Pinch. Rhythmic squeeze. The sound of milk hitting the inside of the metal pail. I was slightly disgusted at first. I mean, what else comes out of a body? Pee, shit, semen, snot, tears, saliva, sometimes blood. None of those are edible (those of you snickering- you know what I mean). So to see something come out of a warm body with the intention to put it in my chicory latte later was slightly disturbing.

And that is why I am here on a farm- to encounter those realities that we have pushed aside for convenience, blissful in our unknowing. We ignore the fact that steak comes from an eviscerated cow or those mushrooms were grown on manure or that the kale leaf has holes because bugs were munching away on the organic goodness. Some of us have a higher tolerance than others. But finding out where and how your food is grown, milked, processed is important. The disconnect does not serve you, the farmer, the earth.

After coming to terms with the reality of milk (and slurping down the rest of my latte- yes, the farm has a quirky tiki-like coffee bar), I harvested broccoli florets and leaves for the weekly CSA. The tiny green buds were sweet and crunchy when I popped a stem into my mouth. I could be happy all day grazing through the fields, a leaf of arugula here, a bitter dose of dandelion there. I brush the occasional bug away (I have a higher tolerance on that front) and chew the sunshine with giddiness.

I dug up baby Mizuna in a hoophouse to give the other adolescent greens some room to stretch towards the spiders in the cloth above, nestle roots unencumbered into the loose soil below. I carried trays of the travelers and transplanted the spindly spiky shoots into an open field. Dig a hole, sprinkle with fish meal and beet pulp, worm castings and ground shells. Carefully break apart seedlings and place them in smaller clumps into their new homes. Tuck soil around them, douse them with a welcomed bath of water. Wish them luck through the cold nights filled with rabbits and gophers. Repeat.

My fingernails are dirty, my belly full of milk and cheese and greens, my nose is pink with sun.  

My eyes are bright with the nourishment of the earth and community.