May 20th, 2022

Note: This letter was written to our Community Supported Agriculture members the first week of our 2022 harvest season.

Snow storms, months of rain, a growing farm crew, major 2021 Farm to Heart success, nesting Kestrels and Cooper's Hawks, baby kittens and baby barn owls and baby chicks and the beginning of the (whoa!) 15th season of this CSA program.

There is so much to write about— where on earth shall I start?

With gratitude of course.

To all who wrote Brad and I kind words of encouragement and support after reading our season update letter regarding the weather, we say, with bowed heads and open hearts, thank you.

The April Joy Farm family collectively has worked now for fifteen years to build a community of care.

The responses we received were such an affirmation, such a bountiful harvest of reciprocity.

“We know that couldn’t have been an easy letter to write.”

“When all that snow hit, I immediately wondered how your farm may have been affected. However you and Brad go about the season, we have no doubt it that it will be every bit as special as all the other CSA seasons you have provided throughout the years.”

“This exactly is part of being a CSA, we are sharing the risk and the rewards of the farm. Whatever the appearance or amount of the crops, they will be delicious and we will be grateful.”

“We're proud and honored to support you all as CSA Members through this season of extraordinary both/and's. Thank you as always for your transparency and realness and hope!”

“You have built a strong support system and community and the part that I represent will be as flexible and as patient as the plants who are waiting for sun and warmth.”

“Thank you for your adaptability, your planning for contingencies, and your transparency.”

“We…are heartened by your appreciation and reverence for the life around you.”

“I will be ready for whatever comes my way and will be thankful to have it!”

“I know [this] weighs heavy on your minds and hearts. Just know I'm here to support you. It's not about the produce, it's sharing this experience with you and celebrating all the wonderful things you do for our community.”

Over the last decade and a half I’ve worked to explain, educate, and share what’s it is like to be a farmer.

This outpouring of compassion, I thought to myself, is partially the result of all those words I determinedly took time to put down on the page, wrestling sentences into form at midnight, rolling over at 3 a.m. to capture a thought. All those unruly phrases scribbled on the margins of the task lists, the ideas written on packing shed masking tape and stuck to my coat jacket to be retrieved later for another week’s installment of farm life— this I realized, is community manifest.

Is it any wonder why we go out into the fields at all hours, why we work with such resolve to midwife food into being?

Your staunch understanding and support reinforces our ability to manage the uncertainty and stress with perspective and sensitivity.

We thank you.

Rain, Rain, (Please Don’t) Go Away

Rather than recite the litany of challenges we’ve traveled through to date, I’d rather take this space to smile and celebrate. For it is a joyful thing that we have made it to this moment. This first harvest, for many weeks a point of uncertainty, is here before us! The packing shed has been scrubbed clean from top to bottom and we’re ready to fill baskets and bunch greens and revel with awe that nature just keeps keepin’ on.

Yes, there are no guarantees of what is to come. But it’s my responsibility to ditch the glass half empty vibe. It’s my responsibility to live with kindness and acknowledge the awe of what is precious and true, right here, right now.

And what is precious and true, right here, right now? I am writing this newsletter to say click here to make your CSA choices this week! This IS success!

So often in the early years, I was stingy. I didn’t allow myself to pause and say, “I don’t know what is to come, but right now, right here, this tiny, beautiful moment is grand and worthy of attention.” I worried my way through seasons– thinking foolishly that success could only be felt after the last share was filled on the last CSA pickup of the season. I thought I could only relax after I had 100% honored every obligation and commitment to every CSA member. I didn’t not truly embrace the truth that given the precariousness of our world, what we have, truly, are simple, ordinary moments. We can choose to infuse those moments with foolish disregard, or with reverence.

I refuse to nickel-dime any spark of joy that comes my way. I refuse to pick apart the many rough edges and lack of perfection and dilute the good with a bucket of wrongs and worries.

Because wallowing in what is not right, is a luxury we can no longer afford. Thank you rain, I say, for making all life possible. We’ll take moisture over 116F heat any day of the year.

Thank you Asian greens and stalwart brassicas for weathering the snow. Thank you lettuces and rhubarb and oregano and parsley and cilantro.

Thank you April Joy Farm family for making this day possible.

Thank you healthy body and sound mind, thank you eyes and ears for the chance to see all your smiling, maskless faces once again, to hear the laughter and joy spill forth.

Yes, I have many more stories to share over the coming weeks. No matter… for now, let’s honor the goodness at our doorstep. ~AJ