– Robert Louis Stevenson
It takes 70 days to harvest a tomato from the time I first put seed to soil. Add another two weeks to that if you include the amount of days I spend deciding on the potting soil that will give the tomato seeds the best opportunity to thrive. For 84 days, give or take, the tomato takes effort, it takes thought, it takes patience, it takes trust and it takes an extra large dose of faith.
We seed, we water, we transplant, we water, we trellis, we weed, we water, we weed some more and then finally, we harvest, and we celebrate.
In year three of farming, I learned finally, that not all celebration should be put on hold until harvest. 84 days of giving with nothing in return is inequity to the extreme, and it is untenable. The Bhumi team would end each day fatigued and empty with this way of thinking.
This year, finally, we flipped the script of previous years on its head, and celebrated the giving. Transplanting wasn’t a necessary evil to get to the harvest day any longer, but rather a gift, to be returned or not, that we gave to the farm, and ourselves. The gift of tending to our crop, even in the most mundane brain numbing ways, is something to be appreciated. It is an act that connects us in the most intimate way to our plants, your food, and it is something to be celebrated in the moment. Celebrated, not in anticipation of the organic tomatoes that are on the trellised horizon, but rather, for the effort put forth without any promise of a harvest at all. We celebrate the act of caring, the act of giving selflessly, the act of being brave enough to do what most others won’t and mostly, we celebrate the seeds, literal and metaphorical, of the good we plant into the earth each day.
Imagine the world that would grow if we all planted seeds of good.