Hold Tight and Pretend It's a Plan

Yesterday I was lying on the table under a piece of paper, with needles poking out of my arms and hands and belly and I said to Tuan, it is six months exactly since my first time here. He made a noise acknowledging this fact, non-committal in nature. Then I thought about it and counted again and realized it was actually seven months.  When I said that, he said calendars are hard and everyone makes mistakes. They really don't make any sense. And this started a 15 minute lesson on the lunar calendar.  For most of these months, Tuan has said very little except pleasantries.  And just to report on the results of these seven months, I have to say that many small complaints that I have accumulated over time have faded away. I can lift my right arm without pain, my hands don't fall asleep, my digestion is perfect, etc. I still have arthritis in my knee and I still limp, but I think the symptoms are less severe. Very little inflammation. I am still overweight as usual and that ...

Before I get started on this shapeless topic, can anyone explain to me in a way that I can understand:  why does frost settle on the grass when the air temperature only goes down to 41 degrees?  Is the air on the ground colder? Water doesn't freeze at 41 degrees so clearly something is going on right there at the ground. Jon tried to explain it to me but I still do not get it. I thought the ground held its temperature much more solidly than the air does. ____ Way back in the olden days when I didn't even have a calendar,  there were mile markers that were recognizable and repeated.  Birthdays, Christmas, end of the school year, beginning of the school year, frost. In my old age, only birthdays have held firm. The other milestones have vanished for me. The one that is the most disorienting, actually, is frost. I can explain why frost is no longer a reliable marker of anything by recognizing that what we grow has changed so much since I was little -- we grow so...

More than 100 people came to the reunion, and dozens of stories were shared in various venues, at breakfast, in big circles, in small circles. This first draft report cannot capture those stories yet -- this is going to be a report of what happened more than what was said. That will take much longer for me to process, and is really material for the book that I will one day get organized enough to write.  Everyone who was here would have their own report of the weekend since there were so many different conversations going at the same time. The high level summary -- the weather was crisp and cool and October glorious, the ground was dry, the food was delicious and plentiful, all the plans came true, and everyone got to immerse themselves in the joy of being together, even the organizers/workers.  It was an epic gathering on two farms over 53 hours. And I need to say it everywhere I can, I am eternally grateful to Sophia for her masterful skills -- moving furniture, making l...

Even though we always grow things for as long as they will keep coming, there is a specific time of year for premium, deluxe versions of any vegetable.  I haven't eaten a tomato in about a month except when Betsy makes her "party in your mouth" tomato toast.  While we may pick chard for the whole season, from beginning to end, it really only tastes good to me at the beginning of the year.  And because we like selling beans, we struggle through the first two months of the season, racing with the bean beetles who work around the clock to destroy the plants and leave bazillions of tiny eggs on the undersides of the leaves.  The eggs aren't the problem, it's those disgusting bright yellow larvae that stick themselves to every surface -- they turn into mustard if they get squished. Every year the workers wonder what that mustard tastes like, but I haven't heard that anyone has put it to the test. But the prime time for beans is September and October. The plants a...