Feeling it

 Climbing Pea Vines

Raining. Again. After a long, hard days work. We knew it would come. We started our day with a list of “rainy day” and “non-rainy day” activities. With showers scheduled to begin around noon we started the day with, you guessed it, weeding. Strawberries. Carrots. Two hours into this activity we moved on to covering the newly planted squash plants with netting. Timely. Tedious.


Things like netting and row cover and plastic and ground cover all make me want to pull my hair out. The netting that we covered the three rows of squash with today is primarily for keeping away insects and pests: rabbits, deer, groundhogs. But they are simply a pain in the neck to handle and move and when the wind catches them just right three adults can fight with this simple piece of cloth for hours on end. No lie. Luckily today that was not the case.

The additional (and probably final) part-time laborer stared work today. Her name is Caroline, she’s fifteen-years-old and she also worked on the farm last summer. She really is a hard worker, nice and well spoken for a fifteen-year-old girl. Sadly enough, she makes me feel old. Very old. She’s the same age as my baby brother, which means she was born in 1997. 1997!! I was a senior in high school in the fall of 1997.

Today I sort of struggled once again with the fact that this is the place God wants me right now. A place in-between. A place not my own. A place far away from gyms and vegetarian restaurants and live music and Target. Even though we are farming. Even though we are doing physical labor for eight hours a day, sometimes I just feel so darn docile. So slow. So lazy.

In NYC at 9:00AM I’d have been up since 5:30, gone to an hour spin class at the gym, showered, made my protein smoothie, done my “getting ready for work in the big city” routine, prepared my lunch and walked two miles to work. By 9:00AM. On the Alleged Farm by 9:00AM I’ve shaken myself awake by 7:00, read my Bible, sipped my coffee, sat, cooked two hot breakfasts, sat some more, stretched and thrown on dirty clothes, some SPF and brushed my teeth. I’m considering adding a morning jog or a nice long walk to my morning routine.

Too much nervous energy. I want to always be moving. Always be doing. But when I feel my heartbeat racing and my mind going to that place of driving fidgetiness, I tell myself that I’m here to learn to Be. To just Be. To read my Bible and sit. To sip my coffee and sit. Oddly enough, for me this is not easy.

My body reminds me of my age and my lack of agility and strength. My knees ached late this afternoon something fierce. This was after re-stringing and pruning tomatoes for about three hours. My knee locked up and I was pretty sure the kneecap was just floating around in the socket. This has never happened to me before. I do not have knee issues.

And my hips ached horribly Monday. Maybe physical labor is not for me. It’s not that I mind it so much as I hate being in pain. Farming brings the pain- no doubt. And I don’t think its something that I could have prepared or trained for. It’s not even something that will bring muscle memory or one can build up to. Everyday is something new. Every day is more aches and new pains and deeper soreness.

And then I feel old. Especially when the girl I’m working alongside is not even half my age and could easily be my child.