Missed this guy last week. If only the Wendell Bear fit in a suitcase. Or a car.
I have a favorite blog––have for a long time now. The guy who runs it is named Rohan and he’s a good dude that, much like me––much like many new small farmers––did not always eat the best, live the best, or care that much about the environment. But that changed and so did he. Now, several years later, he and his family are embarking on a really special project––a project near and dear to our hearts––one I would love to see our friends and followers helping us to support.
The Nursery Project, though based all the way around the world, hits really close to home (sorry, couldn’t help it). They are attempting to raise money to build a place where people can go to learn about food and agriculture, health and wellness.
And the reason I am so passionate about helping spread the word on this is because I can’t wait to see what they do, to see if it could become a model for similar nurseries around the world. However, there is a lot of money that needs to be raised, and a lot of work that needs to be done, between then and now. So take a look at their page and please consider donating something––even a dollar would help––and sharing it in your social media. It’s for a great cause that will cause a lot of good, and this is a chance for all of us to be a part of something truly special.
Click, donate, share, support.
There haven’t always been seven billion people on the earth, or thousands of giant buildings or factories or M1 Abrams and yet, no matter what we’ve added to the surface, we have never really changed the weight of our planet. Earth has always been pretty much the same inconceivably ridiculous number (13,170,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 pounds, or thereabouts) that it was when we got here. And to me this is both the most obvious fact in the world, and the most profound.
And the reason I say this is profound is because thinking about the world this way gives me a greater respect for everything manmade that I can hold, as––directly or indirectly––it has all been lifted out of the earth at some point. Every car, every building every device and every human has been at some point in time part of the planet. Which includes, naturally, excitingly, our baby.
Our baby will be made of the beef from Moonie, the cow the Smiths split with us, who herself was made from the grass of the farm. Sweet corn and sweet potatoes, blueberries and beets will make our baby, which themselves, fueled by sunlight, came from dirt. And we will raise our children to understand where they came from, too, and what fuels them, in hopes that they will learn to treat the planet with the same respect they treat themselves. Because we are––mathematically, scientifically and proverbially––one and the same thing.
At the end of the movie Captain Phillips––so fair warning, SPOILER ALERT––there is this unbelievable scene where Tom Hanks (who plays Phillips), is being treated by a nurse for shock. He goes from being perfectly fine and seemingly holding it together, to absolutely breaking down in a matter of seconds once the reality of his situation, of the stress of being the prisoner of Somali Pirates, overtakes him. And this is sort of how we feel at the moment.
We’ve had such an intense season this year and though we’ve made it through, it has been a challenge on all sides. Over these last few weeks alone, the turkeys––the 15 of 55 we have left, that is––destroyed a big portion of our home garden. Trousers has been holding daily seminars on how to slip the electrified wire for the other pigs. And since we removed Wanda and Mow to a wonderful new home, the remaining goats have decided to rebel, respectively. Though obviously not nearly the same as Somali Pirates, we have definitely felt like our ship is under siege lately.
So we are on vacation this week, spending 10 days in Cape Cod. We’re taking this time to regroup, relax and let some of that stress drain out of us. But we’re also praying the animals are behaving themselves and haven’t taken the Smiths––who have completely rescued us by generously watching the farm while we’re gone––captive themselves. Not only are the Smiths our mentors right now, but our heroes.