Thirteen

It was thirteen years ago that we were pulling in our first harvests from Eden, our first high tunnel. A couple weeks ago, I wrote a blog remembering the construction of Eden at the Genuine Faux Farm and I've been reflecting on that as a major turning point for us and our farm.

I decided to pull out an image from November 20, 2010 that shows the inside of Eden on that date.  There was a whole host of green crops ready to harvest at that time.  We were well-positioned to sell fresh produce right up until Christmas that year - a year where we had come within a whisker of calling the Genuine Faux Farm a failed experiment.

This year is, of course, very different from 2010.  We opted not to plant a high tunnel full of greens for the cold season sales.  And, oddly enough, it wasn't so much because we didn't think we could grow them.  It was more the fact that we knew we would not have the time available to harvest, clean and find homes for it all.

Okay.  We probably didn't have the time to plant and care for them either.  Things have been that busy for the two of us in the off-farm professions.  Still, I find myself looking a bit wistfully at this image.

And speaking of wistful... if that even comes close to accurately describing the feeling.  There are a total of four digital images for my November 2010 folder.  Two show Eden in its full-glory of late Fall, early Winter crops.  The other two show something else that was new to us at the time.  Actually, there were two someone elses that were new to us, starting that October.

I have no idea how we got Bree and Hobnob to strike a similar pose on the same chair... at different moments, no less.  Hobnob never was one to pose for the camera.  Yet, there she is.   

As many who read the blog know, we lost the "Zoom Meeting Cat," Bree, this past year.  Hobnob preceded her sister a year before.  So, while 2010 was a year of big transitions at the Genuine Faux Farm, so too is 2023.  We both still find ourselves responding to dark piles of clothing on the bed because our brains initially supply us with the identifier "sleepy kitty" and it takes a moment to remind ourselves that their sleep is a bit deeper than a cat nap now.

A quick glance into the northwest pastures in September of 2010 shows us some turkeys.  They are kept in one section of the pasture by some fencing we would have to take down in 2012 after a spray plane applied pesticides in this area.

But, that's not quite what is getting my attention.  What's getting my attention is what's NOT in the picture.

The biggest missing item is... Crazy Maurice, the farm's Weeping Willow!  And, of course, there are other tree friends, like Blaze, the Maple and Loki, the Locust.  There's even a new permanent fence with gates and everything for the hen pasture.  

What would our 2010 selves say if they could transport into 2023 and see what things look like now?  Would they be pleased, shocked or dismayed?  Perhaps there would be parts of all three.  Of course, we'll never know for certain.  But it's interesting to even consider it.

I can say that we had some visions for this future.  That's why we have made some of the decisions and taken some of the actions that led us to this present reality.  But we can't honestly say that things turned out exactly as we expected.  After all, life is too complicated to be able to predict how thirteen years are going to treat you and the land you steward.