the thin days

The older I get, the less tolerant I become of cold, wet days.  I find the gray seems to somehow enter my bones.  I can't seem to drink enough coffee or put on enough layers to touch the cold in this drafty old house. 

I stay as busy as possible trying to catch up on paperwork and finish household projects left unattended during growing months.  I try to ignore the thinning pantry shelves, the emptying freezer.  During wet stretches, I find myself out-of-doors anyway, rooting in the mud, trying to convince myself that I really can pull those weeds without disrupting too much topsoil only to discover my foolishness after I have thoroughly muddied myself.  I pull out old planting charts and fret over when I can start planting, when I can expect to feel the full abundance of a garden bursting with too much produce to process.  More than enough to can, to freeze, to barter, to sell, to FEAST.  January is a thin month, so unlike July.  Spring seems so far away. 

I find myself looking more for inspiration, for words that help me focus less on the fretting, for words that help me focus on the gift of a slower pace, the gift of enough.  One writer I particularly enjoy reading is Jenna Woginrich of Cold Antler Farm. She's a homesteader/writer in upstate NY.  Today, on this gray wet day, I found comfort in these words:

"There's enough food for everyone on the farm today.
There's enough wood for the fires to burn today.
There's friends on the phone to call today.
There's books to dive into and love today.
There's good dogs with full bellies today.
There's a cat curled up by the stove today.
There's snow falling all around me today.

It's all enough, today."
http://www.coldantlerfarm.blogspot.com/

So tonight, I'll tuck myself in, down comforter pulled up to my chin, knowing that today, there was enough. 

Happy New Year!

January 1, 2013

As happens with most folks, on this first day of the year, I'm taking some time to pause and reflect on the year past.  2012 was a great year for MamaSprings.  It was a year full of hard work and sweat, that's for darn sure. 

Last January, I learned of a new farmer's market opening in Durham.  Full of optimism and some fear, I applied, was toured, and earned a spot.  From April to October I was a regular vendor.  Showing up Saturday morning meant working from dawn to dark the other six days of the week.  Friday nights were devoted to washing produce, ironing table cloths, arranging flowers, printing up recipe cards, and packing the van.  Saturday mornings rocked:  talking food, sharing tips for how to sneak those greens into your kids, waxing poetic about the different characteristics of heirloom tomatoes, arranging bouquets of lovely to adorn my customers' dinner tables....I relished every minute of it.  Saturday afternoons were devoted to a big lunch, a beer, and a nap.  My first year at market was hard.  It was grueling.  But it was a hell of a lot of fun. 

From April to mid-December, I lovingly grew, harvested, and packed produce shares for my beloved CSA customers.  These devoted few are my people.   Hearing that the Brodie kids were squabbling over heads of broccoli means I'm going to plant more in 2013.  Knowing Chantel depends on my greens for her daily smoothies and that Joanne devours those greens from her basket first means I'm going to continue my efforts to have leafy greens even in the dead heat of summer. Learning that Julie, a woman who truly takes the old saying "waste not want not" to heart, bartered some pesto made from my basil for childcare makes my inner hippie happy.  I am so grateful for this enthusiastic bunch. 

Lisa, Shelly, Hope, Jacob, Laney, Stella, Daniel, David:  your sweat and effort helped grow something, I believe something radical.

2012 was a year of big growth for my family, as well, as I saw each member step up their own level of personal responsibility to pick up the slack here at home.  I have never been so proud of us, as a family, as on the Friday evenings when we all worked as a team to race against the coming dark in order to finish a harvest.  Kids, one of my sincerest hopes is that we are raising citizens who will produce rather than consume.  I'm grateful that we have such a tangible way to teach and model that goal. 
   
2013 holds many opportunities for refining and improving my work.  After these past couple weeks off to rest and recharge, this old gal is ready.  Happy New Year ya'll!