Greetings Friends and Neighbors,
There is distinctly crystalline quality to this time of year, the fleeting weeks between high Summer and Autumn. The Farm adorns itself in dew-studded finery as it begins to usher forth a final flush of Grass. Trevor and Angus, the two steers learning to work as oxen, wait eagerly in the close corner of their night paddock, and take off at a full canter towards the Barn once I open the gate. Young Maria, the newly-arrived Jersey heifer calf, allows me slip the rope-halter over her nose and behind her ears and we walk together, haltingly, toward the Barn. I clip the three of them and then head out to collect their milk. Tigger and Topsy, the Farm’s two dark-eyed Jersey Cows, graze a strip on the far-Eastern edge of the Farm’s fields. The laneway that leads in their direction is made from two strands of electric fence wire supported at intervals by fiberglass posts. The parallel lines rise and fall with the roll of the ground. Sun has begun his ascent from beyond the broad Lake and the distant hills, coming to grant us another day here at the Farm. And the glint of this newly-arriving day catches on the dew-laden meadow thick with purple Clover flowers and the glossy metal strands in the electric fence wire stretching down the laneway. The scene meets my open eyes as nothing short of a miracle. Spring birdsong has given way to the unceasing pulse of Crickets, and here in the meadow they vibrate the cool morning air. The chanted enchantment of late-Summer. I walk the laneway aware that this fleeting moment is already gathering itself towards Fall. Only in its ebbing does the season fully betray its beauty.
I call out to Tigger and Topsy, and they raise their heads. “Good morning, beautiful Cows.” Their enthusiasm for the walk to the Barn has more to do with the molasses and Oats they will find there than with the hungry steers, who are rougher than they could be and much larger than they once were. At six-months old, their shoulders rise to my ribcage and their backs and rumps ripple with muscle. They nurse with their whole bodies engaged, legs and hooves spread wide for traction on the concrete. As they empty the udders, they begin to headbutt in frustration, and I lean on all of the training we’ve done together to convince them to step away from the empty teat. Milk foam falls from their mouths, its sweet, creamy aroma scenting the air. I walk Tigger and Topsy back down the long laneway and turn them into a fresh strip of Grass. I thank them for putting up with this morning routine, and promise them that the calves will make sweet hay for them once they’re grown up. They will learn to feed the ones who have fed them, and, with any luck, I will learn a thing or two as I walk alongside them. Back at the Barn, I halter the boys and lead them to the place where their yoke hangs. I lower the carved Willow log from its hook and lay it over their necks, slipping the bows into place and securing them with metal pins. The boys love being brushed almost as much as they love milk, and so we begin our daily training this way. I remind them of their important position at the Farm by telling them the same thing I’ve just told the Cows. This work we are learning together will ensure that the Farm is well-fed through the Winter. I sing to them as I run the brush along the corrugation of their ribs and the soft of their necks. The song is for them, yes, but more importantly it serves to remind me of the generosity that allows us to be alive and learning to walk together on this fine August morning. “The greatest gift is to be alive, to breathe the world for one more day. And if this breath should be my last, I’ll blow it out as a song. Oh, thank you. Oh, thank thank you. Oh, thank you. Thank, thank you.” And with that, I ask Trevor and Angus to take two steps back, turn and walk through the wide front door of the Barn, the three of us shoulder to shoulder learning to greet the day with our grateful labors.
Much has been set into motion here at the Farm these past two weeks. Burning diesel fuel has a way of doing that. Eddie the excavator has begun has begun to run water lines and prepare the foundations for the bakery and wood-fired oven, which he will slide into place later this week. Structural modifications to the shed are on my list for today and tomorrow, to stay ahead of his work with the machine. With all of this going on, it has been difficult to find a quiet moment sit down to write.
And so, I am thrilled to finally extend an invitation to you to consider joining us for a proper welcome Feast here at the Farm:
Sunday September 4th at 4:00pm
A Gratitude Feast at
The Farm above Goose Landing
also known as the Old Schermerhorn Place
Join us at 1:30pm for a walk around the Farm and introduction to some of its many residents.
Please RSVP to peasantryschool@gmail.com as soon as possible so that we can begin planning for food.
If you are interested in joining us for Food Prep on Saturday, Dinner Table Setup on Sunday morning, or Cleanup Sunday evening, please send an email to peasantryschool@gmail.com.
With great care,
Adam
Adam, I am hugely enjoying what you’re doing on and with the Farm, and your thoughtful and inspiring writing about it. All best, Janie (a grateful Vermont patron of your yummy bread over the years).