I wake up each morning to an ensemble of roosters crowing at the glare of a newly shining day. I sit in my tent for a few minutes, meditating. I try and fail and try again to keep my mind still, to stabilize my intentions for the day. I rise and exit my tent. Outside my door live two mango trees and a few rows of kale and chard. I greet the chilly morning with a grasping stretch and trot over to the barn. I enter and begin making oatmeal and boiling water for tea. I put the necessary ingredients together and sit down accompanying my fellow workers. There is Mike, Liberty, Jane, Sadie and Pedro along with the head Margie. Pedro is the hardest working person on the farm. He is a migrant worker from Guatemala who rises each morning at least 6 and begins his morning round of checking the eggs. A very little man, about 5' 1'', he stands very tall in my book. He's a gracious fellow with a silly laugh who enjoys his beer in the evenings, but works hard during the day to make money for his family back home. Mike is a thirty five year old farmer, or soon to be. Originally from Florida, he has a master's in tropical agriculture, but will be heading up to New York to begin his own 1 acre farm. He is the most educated and knowledgeable person who is accessible when Margie is not around. I ask him all sorts of questions and hes got a wealth of knowledge. Liberty, I know I have mentioned before, is a Wyoming girl who has graduated college and loves life. Her laugh is hearty and filled with warmth, but she prospers in the outdoors as she describes from her jobs in Rocky Mountain Trail Alliance where she lived in the Rockies doing trail conservation work the past two summers. Sadie, I have also mentioned, is down here farming for the third year in a row. Originally from South Texas, then Pittsburgh, she has traveled extensively and lived in some very interesting and meager settings, but I think she is gaining a bedrock with her boyfriend and may make this her home. Margie grew up in Cuba but migrated here when she was in high school or college. After years of biology lab work she quit and began Bee Heaven Farm which is committed to supporting local, organic agriculture in Southern Florida. Jane is a fellow Michigander, originally from Detroit. She is an aspiring farmer as well, planning on moving back to Michigan this coming spring. We talk a lot about Michigan and its really nice to have a friend who knows the blessings of Michigan to identify with.
     After breakfast, there are a few routes of action I will take depending on the day of the week. Mondays I will chill because I take them off. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays I will go work in the field harvesting, planting, or weeding. Fridays is CSA pack day which means 419 boxes need to be given their "share" of the harvest and we pack those practically from 7:30 to 4 in the pm. Saturdays is market harvest day and Sunday has been the market day, which we leave early for.
     That's all the logistics. Now I want to focus on the imagery that makes it what it is. After working in the sun or the barn all day, I like to go on a bike ride. I set out to blow with or against the wind. I see hundreds of acres of plant, flower, palm, tree nurseries. The fields of green are accompanied with providential skies of evening. I ride and ride, fast or slow, usually trying to challenge myself, then just cool off. Cars and trucks, barking dogs, gas stations, old country bars, warehouses all cycle on my path over and again. A few unique things, but all in all, its a continuation. I arrive home to do a few stretches, push ups, and sitting. I usually take a shower and then head to a communal dinner with my co-workers. We have a good time, joking about the day, the boss, and its always an enjoyable time. I eat well, and then one of us does the dishes. We usually scurry off to our individual activities after dinner. I usually play banjo or read, but others with write emails or letters, read, and Pedro will drink beer with his buddies. We head to bed around 9:30 to 10:30 and get our nights rest. I usually fall asleep to dogs barking in the distance, faint echoes of music, and the easily forgettable sounds of crickets chirping.
I hope that gives a better picture of my life here.
Love,
Tommy