Spring Fever

by Stowell P. Watters

Winter is now a waning moon; each one of us will be olive-skinned and river bound before we know it. The life in the soil will soon explode into the sunlight, our meals, and our bodies, and at this point all we can do at Rippling Waters Organic Farm is just try to hold on.

Both greenhouses are bustling, as of the week of March 28 we have everything from arugula to tomatoes to kohlrabi seeded and growing in warm trays and potting soil. With field mice politely locking themselves up behind the bars of have-a-heart traps our peppers and spinach are showing their true leaves, and the kale transplants are standing stalwart and ready.

This weekend we shoveled the snow out of two of the hoop houses and have since brought the plastic down to heat the soil for planting next week - this is very exciting for us as it heralds in this year's first foray into the soil. A host of carpentry projects and weekly visits from friends and volunteers have also kept us busy amidst seeding, watering, seeding, and watering.

It is easy to get lost amidst this flourish of activity and to think of the months ahead with more than a tinge of anxiety. When I worked for a local newspaper I remember the (dreadful) onset of dread, of not wanting another minute of work to present itself to me. I remember wanting to hide from the cavalcade of to-do's and deadlines - crushed under their unending weight.

But at the farm this dread is simply not there. The growth of the plants, slow and steady, gives us a foil for our own work, that - whether you worry, hope, fret, or totally forget altogether - life and work goes on, and good things come from small things and pile up until all of the sudden, one day in midsummer's heat, you turn around and there is a great success flourishing in your wake. So join us at the farm in not worrying about the work to be done, but enjoying the time spent doing it.