Hayden Kesterson, Apprentice 2020

Considering that I first pursued this position out of an abstract sense of responsibility to know what goes into growing food in an ethical way, the uncertainty of 2020 lent my season an immediacy I wasn’t expecting. As the CSG membership filled up, and as seeds and mason jars became more difficult to find, it was clear that I wasn’t the only one seeing former buzzwords like self-sufficiency and resiliency take on new, frightening weight.

Week in and week out, however, it became clear that for the farmers this gravity was nothing new. Judy examining the seedlings in the greenhouse, Mike checking the germination of a cover crop, Smadar doing mental calculations of how much to give to the members – their approach to every task showed a similar matter-of-fact understanding that working with nature is a necessarily uncertain endeavor. It takes a certain type of humble resolution to work day in and day out, knowing full well that weather or critter or some other aspect of the unknowably complex thing we call “the environment” might thwart that effort. You reap less than you sow, it turns out.

But that complexity is also fertile ground for joy: Gina exclaiming before taking a picture of a summer squash flower, Tim calling me over to look at a particularly weird bug, Hannah leaving a strawberry on Judy’s dashboard. It was through that joy that my season at the farm showed me that uncertainty isn’t a hindrance but a calling. Even if the squash rots mysteriously, or the eggplants don’t do too well until September, heeding that call ensures something else to eat and a deeper knowledge of the world. Looking back on all I learned about plants, patience, and myself, it seems I was wrong in my earlier assessment. We reap more than we sow, too.