A Facebook memory from eight years ago popped up on my husband’s phone— a shoddy photo of a handwritten chalkboard sign that read “Welcome to Sunday Supper, we are so glad you are here.” Wow, I thought, time flies. It’s been eight whole years since we dressed a table beneath our tiny carport with thrifted mismatched napkins and hodgepodge silverware. A lifetime ago, it seems, when we piled a group of friends into whatever space we could carve out of a beloved rental falling into disrepair. I baked so much out of that home oven, the constant heat melted the enamel on the stovetop’s surface.
In thinking about our former home and the people who came to visit, we didn’t care about the floors, sunken and hollowed by termites, or the dusty unkempt corners piled with books and seed packets. Any lack or imperfection was never as important as gathering folks together for a meal, cooking with a mind to love, to connect.
I have a small notebook titled “Farm Dreams'' that holds a composite of our vision written in short inky bursts; notes written, rewritten, and refined over the years. To see those etchings come to life in our daily practice is somewhat of a marvel. The thing about documenting this journey– by an ungodly amount of images on the iphone, on coffee-stained notebook pages, or in an essay on the internet, is that we can see the throughline of our desires. I think of Octavia Butler and her journal pages.
Even more rare are the moments when I am in the middle of an event, fully present, watching the subtle and joyful ways in which people experience the farm. Or, when the farm transforms over an afternoon for a special event. From the quiet mornings when Jamie and I share a sacred small moment alone over coffee, drafting our to-do lists to setting up tables, chairs, and linens, and then the steady stream of individuals— servers and chefs, friends and first time guests, a gaggle of cars lined along the gravel driveway in a makeshift parking lot.
It’s the conversations overheard while ironing linens, as two people connect across a cutting board while prepping for an event. It’s the friends who show up at the end to help us clean up. It’s the post-event meal shared by the service staff, all of us basking together in the accomplishment of the day. It’s hands, mouths, music, fire, food pulsing across our outdoor pavilion.
This past month, we’ve hosted award-winning chefs and 140 guests for an epic fish fry. We welcomed culinary students to the farm and offered them an alternative look at a culinary life. We’ve hosted a baker from New Hampshire, and we put on an intimate Sunday Supper with a dear friend, who also happens to be a cookbook author and television host. We had zoom meetings, participated in press events, tended to our beehives, drove the animals to the vet, all while running the bakery and farm respectively, markets included. This Sunday, we’ll host a potluck gathering for farmers and growers.
Life lately has been all gas and no brakes. Such is springtime. I type this from the Phoenix airport as we make our way back home from Portland, Oregon. Jamie was honored with a Good Food award this past weekend for Old North Shrub, a craft beverage he makes and sells. I’ve tried to sit down and write multiple times during our trip, fighting the weariness of a cross-country time change and full days. At home, it was much the same, each day packed with the daily hustle. Jamie and I would get through each day, glance at each other just before bed to say, “helluva day” before nodding off, only to do it again at 5:30 the next morning.
In the vein of fellow newsletter writers, Alicia Kennedy and Jodi Rhoden, who both deferred longer essays this week, I am taking a cue to not let perfect be the enemy of good and share the right now.
The farm life I’ve dreamed of is happening. The things we said we wanted to do, we are doing. Life unfolds in beautiful and overwhelming ways. Sometimes it prevents me from finding time to write like I want to, and I feel frustrated and anxious because of it. But then I see our life reflected back to us by the people who fill our days— friends, strangers, peers, coworkers, dinner guests— and I see a life made manifest, a dream come true.
Here’s a few photos of life on the farm lately:
All photos by Liz Wehmueller
ON THE FARM: It’s everything, everywhere, all at once. Market season is about to catapult us through these next few months. Our spring CSA is halfway over, and we’ve opened up summer CSA signups. More events are on the way, including a Spring Supper cooked by Jamie and me, and a Ghanaian Feast on the Farm by Chef Awo.
WHAT’S GROWING: Radishes, turnips, beets, carrots, spring onions, garlic, shallots, and greens—lettuces! salad mixes! kale! broccolini! We just started planting summer crops— squash, cucumber, and tomatoes. And this week, we’re transplanting peppers, eggplant, and tomatillos into the field.
WHAT WE’RE EATING: We just got back from Portland where we indulged in as many of the city’s best restaurants and bakeries we could fit into three days. Here’s a list of some of our favorites: Kann Restaurant, Sweedeedee (for breakfast/brunch), Maurice (for a lovely lunch) Coquine Market, Tabor Bread (beautiful whole grain pastries), Lovely’s Fifty/Fifty (for pizza!)
Another great update on the farm happenings. Thanks for sharing with us.