Rainy Rant

I've been staving off a headache for the past three days and it's beginning to get the best of me again.  Rain is falling from the sky with haste.  There are some bright orange pumpkins waiting cheerfully in the field to be plucked by cold, wet hands but this morning I am entrusting that job to noble Adam while I sip tea and klick klack on the keyboard about my feelings.

Today is the first day of my last week on this farm.  And it is only appropriate that I reflect.  I have learned an incredible amount here.  I have learned how to grow food.  I drove a tractor, cared for animals, spent hours weeding and transplanting in the summer sun, and cold hours sloshing around in the spring rain.  I learned the value of getting along with individuals with whom I had little in common, and working with them side-by-side.  I learned the importance of doing dishes.

As winter approaches with astonishing ferocity, I feel a sense of relief that I will spend the next month with my family and friends back home.  I miss them.  Mom, Dad, Pete.  I am reminded of being nine years old, on one of those evenings when my parents had friends over for dinner and I took it as an invitation to be the star of the show.  I cracked jokes and danced around the kitchen, and whether or not they were truly charmed by my entertainment, they were always polite enough to pretend as much.

I miss feeling so at home with myself and the people I am surrounded by that I can act so lavishly silly. Because silliness is a distinct part of my character that I have to stifle for the most part.  And the Lord in Heaven (just kidding!!) knows that if there's any time of year we need silliness it's winter time.  Why do you think they wrote all those inane Christmas songs?

Anyway, I know I should suck it up and layer on all those squeaky plastic clothes and just go out there, so I'll wrap this up.  I am so grateful for having had the experience of working here at Gales Meadow Farm.  It taught me that farm work is hard but as rewarding as can be.  It taught me that this is indeed something I want to do.  Sometimes I think twice about whether or not Oregon is the place to do it, however.

When I walk away from this experience, it will be with a head full of good memories and a fondness for those warm summer nights wandering the farm after dusk, that dry grass smell filling my head space and the freakin' stars winking at me from a million lightyears away.