Rain preparations

The Last few days and nights had been rough, for reasons I'm still discovering. I got pulled over, discovered that many of the places in the world so much of me used to inhabit are now saturated and leaving little room or need for me. Mostly though I'd just been bogged down by only being able to talk about farming, only be able to plan on what I will do when the money's finally coming in at an adequate clip, only being able to discuss ideas, and not being able to put anything into play. I used to live for that. I loved nothing better than a good idea, a potential. Now though, I'm finding myself disillusioned by ideas alone. I'm finding that I'm a person who needs action.

The forecast for today was rain, maybe late, but certainly not late enough for anything productive to happen in the fields, so as I went to bed last night preparing for another marginal day of trying way too hard to be productive and doing, I wasn't all that excited at the idea of springing out of bed and tackling the day. The season would have to wait until mid next week, assuming that the every other day showers didn't actually happen from sunday onward. I fell asleep listening to river of deceit by Mad Season.

Before all of that, I had a fire. I sat and found a way through talking and taking in the smoke and flames, to get out of my funk. I still went to bed a bit off, but I somehow found my own rooting out there. The thing that tipped me over the edge away from frustration and despair was just this tiny little hope that somehow I'd wake up in the morning, and the rain wouldn't have come, and the fields would be in perfect condition, and the equipment would be available, and I'd have a day on the farm again, working it, living within its confines, not just walking above it, but in it.

By the end of today, Casey and I have planted our first successions of lettuce and broccoli for beans and barley as well as the CSA. I chisel plowed, rototilled, and field cultivated 7 acres, making them available for the next stage in their lives, making them accessible very quickly after any rain of next week. In most scenarios, that's a week's worth of work on my own, packed into one highly unlikely day. We managed to tuck in 7000 plants that were beginning to overgrow their flats. They needed new homes, and somehow the rains of the west, the direction of purification, renewal, and mostly rain, never showed up, made room for these little food prayers of ours to hopefully set roots.

I don't know what to make of the spirits of the west now. Perhaps life is so constantly in a state of renewal and change that there is always a wisdom, always something that you can cue in on to make anything you want to believe actually true. Or maybe I read the wrong website to predict the weather. Tonight I feel incredibly blessed and fulfilled, and in the right place. Now I just need it to rain a little, and I won't have a complaint in the world, til tomorrow. And right now, half an hour after starting this blog, the drops of rain fall on my window, consummating this plan of ours in the soil. Thunder looms large in the distance. Offerings for offerings.

Thanks for reading!