We have officially cast off the mooring lines of summer and are adrift in the sea of academia.  That notion seems so romantic, so simple:  Students basking in the shade of a large tree pondering the lecture last given or reading material for the class to come, small groups sitting around tables passionately debating which comes first epistemology or ontology with weekends off to a function or party.

This Monday our farm students will put down the fulltime role of pruning, weeding and picking and take up those pencils.  Their days on the farm will be limited and hours in the books will replace those once spent in the dirt.  With that we start to recognize seasons inside of seasons.

When I was about 6 my dad, the truest gardener I know, moved us a few miles away to a larger property where he could explore his farming desires and where we had more room to spread our legs as kids.  Summers turned from childish ventures to lawn mowing and general chores.

“Gardens, scholars say, are the first sign of commitment to a community. When people plant corn they are saying, let’s stay here. And by their connection to the land, they are connected to one another”
-  Anne Raver.

We are moving.  Furniture is in, kitchen is full and dressers are all adorned with ornament and filled to the top.  However, my wife is missing her jeans.  All the boxes are unpacked and we have scoured our old place in a fevered search.

Without a question our communities overall heath and quality of life is dramatically increased when access to activity and quality food is available.  Critical disease decreases and life expectancy increase as a result.  The data is also showing a clear correlation between household income and health;

One of my shots was a string of colorful flags hanging from the ceiling as a bit of nautical decoration.  The typical flags you see hung all in a line flapping form boats and waterside restaurants.  These flags at one point were more than decoration, with each meaning a different letter much like our number flag.

In the gardens the tomatoes are growing so fast we can’t keep up with the pruning.  The apples flushed out so strong the thinning will take us another two weeks.  Peaches are sitting ready, turning this rain into sweet flesh

I walked the farm some today and took in the array of produce beginning to explode into life.  Tomatoes in small pale balls, squash flowers pretty enough to photograph and little fruits all starting to swell into ripeness.  Non-the-less this week it’s a great deal of greens.

So our garden helps connect you to nature through our vegetables.  We all literally consume earthly products from the soil in our own town, nurtured by the same rain and sun that falls on us individually.  And, the baskets are beautiful.

As you approach port, and before you can even pick out details on shore, you small the earth.  Rotting leaves and grass, asphalt roads, fresh vegetation and the soil.  Land has a very unique smell that most don’t realize because of our constant stimulation.  

On my weekends traveling between St. Joe and Linden I most often choose to use the train.  It leaves from South Bend at 8:00PM and arrives in West Virginia at about 10:00 the next morning.  Some times I ride coach and at times I spring for a sleeper car.  Either way the experience is the same. 

It’s easy to become separated from this giant globe that spins unceasingly around the sun as we sit at our desks checking our Facebook or bank accounts.  However, our little garden never becomes separated.  She wants the sun to shine on her face and the rain to fall softly on her fields.