Notes from the Field - Fall Song

Obligingly, the weather and light have made abrupt changes, ushering in the end of our summer season together.  The golden sunlight at 4pm yesterday was beautiful but weak and waning.  A heavy frost, even ice, lingered in the long shadows in the fields throughout the morning after a low of 23 degrees on Sunday night.  NOAA has officially called it the end of the growing season in the Northeast. 

 

We're moving towards our darkest day, more rapidly now it feels, only to immediately begin the tilt, orbit and rotation to our longest one once we reach it.  We still have a lot of food to harvest, store and distribute through our November/December Winter CSA (purchase your Winter Share today!), to the local schools, and for donations to food assistance programs in the region - but the cold is definitely upon us.  Thank you for being a part of this farm; I hope that the season was as enjoyable and delicious for you as it was for us.

 

This winter, we'll hash out the lessons we've learned from this season and get some much needed rest, readying to greet you again next year, just days away from the summer

solstice.  In the meanwhile, take a moment to savor Mary Oliver's poignant articulation of this transitional time of year.  Stay warm, be well and know that we are grateful to have you as a part of the Waltham Fields community.

For the Farm Crew,
Erinn Roberts, Farm Manager

Fall Song by Mary Oliver

Farm Manager Erinn harvesting sweet fall carrots!

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere

except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle

of unobservable mysteries - roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This

I try to remember when time's measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay - how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures