By G Alvite Wolcott, Farm Fellow
A few weeks ago, we finished one of our first full days of farming on a hot summer’s day, and afterwards, I went to the pond a couple hundred yards from the farm that is always cold because it is fed by spring water. I wrote a short poem-
I am unbelievably lucky
to sit or stand or lay
with my skin touching sun
and brush the bluets with
just the world and me
The poem doesn’t encapsulate that golden hour moment thoroughly; drying my tired body in the meadow as butterflies landed on rhododendron leaves and cumulonimbus clouds casted shadows that moved in and around me.
Since the COVID pandemic started, I haven’t felt a lot of those ecstatic moments. I think I know why: when I am engaged with a community of people and friends, and experience the emotional and intellectual energy that is required of community, my alone time feels much more important. Much less expendable.
Every couple of days since our cohort of AMI fellows has arrived, I’ve realized that I’m interacting with people – laughing, eating, talking, sometimes even *gasp* touching – and almost pinch myself. It’s been a really long time since all of this has felt possible or within reach. I have a lot to feel lucky about right now. Here are a few other things I’m thankful for:
I’m thankful for the cows that moo when we drive up the gravel road and make us take in the sight of the mountains a little longer.
I’m thankful for the “weeds” that grow around here that I identify and help me feel connected to this new place.
I’m so very thankful for the chickens who we will be harvesting tomorrow, and for their humongous feet that make me laugh.
I’m thankful for sitting on a blanket in the grass and watching the sun set.
The next six months will be an accumulation of thousands of special moments and I’m poised to soak it all in.