Week 25 Field Notes

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field notes

upcoming events Winter’s Eve and Silent Art Auction

Volume 17 | Number 25 | November 16 & 20, 2012

Saturday, December 8, 2012 4:00 p.m. - 7:00 p.m. $2 per person; or a donated canned food item

Kick off the holiday season with a delightful adaptation of Dickens’ classic ghost story. Performed as an old-time radio show with live sound effects, “A Colonial Christmas Carol” features Scrooge as a tobacco factor and Bob Cratchit as a free black. And don’t miss the opportunity to purchase a gift for someone special at the Silent Art Auction, which showcases the craftsmanship of the farm’s Stitch ‘n Time textile club and other fine art by local artists. Pre-registration required for events )or details on any event, please visit www.accokeekfoundation.org or call 301-283-2113.

Farm Manager Becky Seward

geese call familiar wild animals return we are all quiet

Apprentice Farmers Susan Cook, Sky Harman

ECOSYSTEM FARM AT ACCOKEEK www.accokeekfoundation.org

Hello CSA Community, We sink more deeply into autumn, and the promise of winter comes in forecasts for snow and sleet, and continually dipping low temperatures. The winter to-do list has begun, and I await the time when I will be able to catch up on paperwork and have time to reflect upon the season. For now, we are impressed by the resilience of the cold weather plants, and I hope that our cabbage and carrots continue into the winter. With overwintering leeks and a bit more garlic to plant, we still count as blessings the sunny days when we can work warmed by the sun. Please enjoy this week’s offerings and be well. Love and hot compost, Farmer Becky

Farm Intern Crystal Proctor Farm Assistant Blain Snipstal

Pick List Tatsoi crowns Baby carrots Red mustard greens

Mesclun salad mix Rainbow Swiss chard Sweet peppers

family business By Sherrie Mickel --excerpted from "Sharing the Harvest"

both drizzled with grey and not so slim around the middle anymore, a woman and a dog endure the heat side by side in a meadow shimmering life. they have shared many miles of the Good Red road, 4 feet 2 feet plod and dance, trot and stumble, lope and scramble right on down to this afternoon hunkered over under the sun so hot. the dog’s head is nestled in sweet grass at the stream bank, the woman’s is bent over hairy weeds surrounding baby lettuces, and deer flies whiz between the like agents of a curse. “sissies,” hiss the hairy weeds; they sneer, “we will smother you.” and the woman’s hands tan as the soil and just as lined pull them out one by one and tuck them in beside the babies. “why is it the bad so often seem so strong while the good get by on grace?” she asks the dog who smiles and wags but does not raise her head. so the woman calls out clear as crows discussing family business across the pasture at first light, “what I mean is, how can something that shines so true and mighty be so fragile when shadows pass and blot out the brightness so easily before passing away again?” and the dog digs thoughtfully into her ear limned with grey, cloudy brown eyes focused on something near the horizon that the woman lifts her gaze to see but doesn’t find. she speaks once more but quiet now as the stream murmuring to itself. “what I do understand is you, old dog. you and the sun and these damned flies, these hairy weeds and baby lettuces. I know what to pull and what to save, and where to put them all. and just who will sit out here beside me in this heat until the work is done.”