Kristin Morrison shares about what farming means to her.
I am fortunate enough to watch Earth’s greatest hits play out on a seasonal loop: winter storms rolling in, spring clouds sweeping mountain tops, birds playing in spirals and riding hot summer thermals above, and eventually the decay of fall. Everything goes back to the earth; a crescendo of growth and light which falls into the dark and rest of winter.
I understand the science of why but am held by the magic of how. The delicate balance of sunlight, warmth, time, nutrients and love. We set the conditions, do our best to provide the right timing, reduce the competition as much as we can, but then step back and let the plants do their thing.
My job as a farmer these last 12 years has felt like the privilege of a lifetime. To be in an equal exchange of energy with a piece of earth for so long, to do it with a crew that is bonded beyond the bounds of time and space, the quantum entanglement of it all. Hey, it brought me my wife and our family! Our sunburns, our heartaches, our torn skin, our laughs, our joys, our wonders are the ties that bind.
The Earth has held it all and offered many things in return: a breezy sigh across a sweaty brow, a gentle kiss of rain to clear the air, a beam of sun to hug our chilly bones, and the scent of flowers to delight our hearts. To farm is also to teach, to observe, to facilitate a connection to something bigger than any one of us alone.