Winds of Change

As the hours near my departure I am drawn to the stillness that accompanies large change. The surrender that comes with inevitable way of time. The nearing half moon seems fitting as I ponder the bittersweet that comes with leaving my folks and my home here at the Tasajillo Ranch. My intention with this page was to keep a diary of all of our 'farm' activities. But as the rains came to welcome the spring, life grew strong and aggressively, demanding the time, energy and attention it requires to cultivate a life drawn from the soil. My words moved through my mind as the warm winds blew around me, but never found their way to this page. As the endless summer heat draws near in the South, I write this entry in sum.
My father and I erected a beautiful garden, stumbling upon countless lessons along the way. Within it we planted corn, soybeans, potatoes, melons, peppers, tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, nasturtiums, lettuces and leafy greens, italian flat beans, peas, carrots and cabbage to name a few. I planted our herb garden with oregano, basil, sage, parsley, cilantro, rosemary, chives and lemongrass. Landscaping went up around the house honoring both native and non-native plants. We fenced the garden, and the chickens. We cut probably over 1000 grape vines, and are still in wait to see if there are fruits from that labor. Fig and plums trees were planted to accompany the other trees in the orchard. Lavender was planted down the midline of the orchard. Slippery elm trees, great for culling wood from as they are fast growing and regenerative, were seeded and are now thriving, waiting to be planted at the head of the property.
Having spent years in the north, where plants are just now finding their way into warming ground, I feared I wouldn't be around to reap benefits from the harvest. But down here, where the weather has reached 90 degrees a handful of times already, it's all we can do to keep a handle on the prolific squash, cucumbers and leafy greens (and the ravenous bugs!). We've also pulled in eggplant, flat beans, and carrots. A few days ago I canned the first of the season. Nine jars of pickles, and made 7 jars of loquat, apple and orange jam. I blanched, bagged and froze enough squash to last through most of the winter - with more of these veggies coming in every day. It has been an honor to work alongside my father and mother as we care for this land and carve a place of belonging for our traditionally nomadic family. I know that with each bite of melon, corn and tomatoes they will savor in the coming months that I will be part of the pleasure, both in labor and in spirit.
My move from a busy desk life to the belly of the country was an easy one. There was an atavistic craving to return to a simple life with efforts spent laboring on food. I will miss the call of the wild as it lulls me to sleep here. The nighthawk that screeches as I return to my trailer, the coyotes lulling me from deep dreams, the rooster reminding me there is another day waiting for me to be present, fervent, compassionate. It is an understatement that all of this time and experience that was shared with my parents was a precious honor. I am deeply grateful for the unexpected turns in life that took me down here, and returned me closer to my roots.
In a day's time, I venture forth, where I will go to Montana tand the Northwest corner of the US, traveling with my dear partner and eventually make my way to my end destination for the next three years in Illinois, to complete my Masters degree in Fine Art. I am fortunate also to be pursuing a field I love and feel very passionate about. Perhaps this journey has most taught me to climb out on the branch that the deepest part of me calls for, and have the faith to know that I will wind up exactly where I need to be. Along the way I intend to keep my hands in the dirt, find peace in the quiet moments, and slow my pace down to savor all of this around me because life is a precious gift to be rejoiced and spent in attendance.
As I've packed my truck, new tenants have moved in. A pair of barn swallows have made there way into the courtyard and appear to have found home. I am envious of my parents opportunity to watch them build their nests and raise a family, not 15 feet from where we have breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday. I look forward to frequent updates about the swallows and all of the wild stories played out at the Tasajillo Ranch.