Henry's Farm

As we wind up yet another year, the bittersweet wabi-sabi feelings return.  Wabi-sabi is a Japanese concept that is hard to translate, but takes in the brief life of a delicate flower, the earthy aroma of autumn leaves beginning to decay, the emptiness of a field waiting for winter. It is the recognition that nothing is perfect, nothing lasts, and nothing is ever finished.  And it is the realization that impermanence is precisely what makes life beautiful and meaningful. When we live fully in each change of season, we can accept and even revel in the brief beauty of an apple blossom, a growing season, a life. 

I have always loved even-tide and winter-time -- the wabiest-sabiest times of the day and of the year – and the serene melancholy they bring.  Of course we are sad that the season of growth is over, and that green life will soon sink into black earth--but at the same time, we are satisfied with the work and the harvest, and amazed at the recuperative powers of the land.  (If you had looked out over the 8-acre lake that submerged our fields in mid-September, you’d know what we mean by recuperative powers!)

The sense of completion and satisfaction we feel at this time of year stems in large part from the partnership between you, our farmers market friends, and the many hands that work the soil, plant the seeds, hoe the long rows, mulch the potatoes, stake the tomatoes, and harvest, harvest, harvest . . . rain or shine, biting cold or brutal heat, to bring good food from Henry’s Farm to your tables each and every week.

Those hands include Henry’s and Hiroko’s, their children Asa’s, Zoe’s, and Kazami’s, our parents Herman’s and Marlene’s, and those of farmhand extraordinaire Matt Ericson. Also this year’s interns Daniel and Rebekah, as well as assorted drop-in interns including Josh, Brenda, Adrienne, and last year’s intern Courtney now and again, plus Bob and Renee, and Jonathan and Jen, and all the people who help us set up and tear down the stand and sell the vegetables each Saturday. All these hands create a beautifully simple and perfectly transparent food chain that links us to each other and to the earth.

At this Thanks-giving time, we give heartfelt thanks to all of you who enable us to do what we do each year, by supporting our efforts with your food dollars.  Together we are showing that it is possible to steward the earth, promote biodiversity, and savor great food.  Thank you!

Out of the bosom of the Air,

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

Over the woodlands brown and bare,

Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent, and soft, and slow

Descends the snow. 

-- “Snow-Flakes” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow