The Growing of a Farmer
I have lived in NYC since the mid 90s. I’ve worked on trading desks with four Bloomberg screens 18 inches from my face and a turret with 15 phone lines ready to blink any second. I’ve waited in lines to get into packed clubs only to wait some more for a drink. I've been sandwiched by other riders on the NYC subway. I've overheard more conversations at restaurants than I care to remember, and I’ve heard neighbors in my various apartment buildings fight, make up and repeat on a nightly basis. I’ve lived a colorful life. A noisy life. A crowded life. And ironically I’ve always felt a little alone.
On the farm, I can smell a flower without needing to get within a half inch of its petals. I can let my thoughts wander without interruption. I can watch the sunset and the land slowly get dark without an offsetting electric light getting brighter. I can eat vegetables sitting cross legged right next to the row of lettuce I picked the leaves from, I can get lost in the deafening silence of solitude, and yet, I never feel more connected.
This gift of life is never more pronounced to me than when I am outside working hard and watching the genius and magic of Mother Nature do her work. No numerical calculations or algorithms, as sophisticated as we are, can make sense of how things grow and how perfect things are unto themselves.
Organic farming to me is a way to play a small part in this gift. These crops are not mine. They are as much mine as they are yours. I do not own them. The time I put into grow them is mine and I’d like to share that time with you.
I wholeheartedly believe that we as humans need to reconnect to the earth. This isn't a new age hippie manifesto. It’s a logical intellectual request to understand from where your food is coming, to appreciate your body, to appreciate your families and loved ones, to love Mother Nature and to have compassion for your neighbors.
I am not a scientist or a philosopher. I am not an activist. I am just a guy who believes in growing good organic food and hoping that sharing this process will bring you closer to the land. Oddly enough, the closer you get to the soil, the more the skies will open for you.