Winter Whispers Soft

Vic Gravel-RGF Staff

The collective breath is slowing here on the farm as we exhale toward winter. A surprise snow last week blanketed a garden half-asleep, dusting the coats of our ever-fluffing sheep and peppering the noses of Jack and Thor in a most delightful dapple. Our final fall bits are nearly complete-garlic has been planted, garden beds turned and tucked in to sleep, stray animal fencing has been retrieved from wilting pastures and the wood stove warms our frozen fingers and toes at the end of the day. As days turn cooler, nights frozen, I am on a mission to glean as many tactile skills as possible before donning gloves that make knot tying and carpentry a bit more challenging. In these days of deep autumn, swooning toward winter, I strive to emulate the garden beds we worked so hard to clear; I am absorbing skills, philosophies, and techniques, enriched by the compost of good company, great teachers, and meaningful work. These past few weeks have been defined by transition, something I often find myself struggling with. And yet, here on the farm, this thing so commonplace and so challenging feels a bit more gentle. Let’s talk about why. 

We start from a place of utter joy. Just a few Fridays ago we had a very special evening here on the farm: the moon hung luminous and eerie over the landscape, a warm evening breeze tousling wigs and rippling robes. Jack-O'l-anterns flickered all over, mottling pastures and walkways with creeping shadows. Kiddoes and their families arrived in droves to enjoy an evening of games, treats, and a properly spookified farm. Adorned with all the appropriate Ms. Frizzle trappings, -an emerald green dress specked with insects of varying varieties, bee-patterned socks, magic school bus earrings, and a curly whirly up-do secured by mushroom and butterfly-patterned hair pins-I was prepared for an evening of jolly good fun. It was time for farm Halloween! 

The night was as perfect as could be for our farm Halloween celebration: evening temperatures in the 60s, a moon one day from fullness, tables decorated with my hand-crafted “spooquets,” games galore and snacks abounding. Costumed kids and their families enjoyed a night chalk-full of delights-fresh cider pressed from the Clark’s local apples, hay rides, a campfire and marshmallows, donut-on-a-stick, arts and crafts and so, so much more! The night was magical, the most wonderful way to bid October a warm goodbye. And a few extra special shout-outs: to all the volunteers who came out that night, to the Clark’s for the apple press and all those delectable apples (especially after the dismal year we’ve had for fruit trees!), and to Pioneer Valley Grower’s Association for their donation of the pumpkins so central to creating our spookified farm ambiance- we truly could not have pulled it off without you. Thank you for everything, y’all. We continue to appreciate you beyond words.  

A mere week after that unseasonably warm day a snow shower arrived, bespeckling the farm with crystals unanticipated and, for the most part, thoroughly enjoyed. After a week of planning, prepping, and going-going-going for farm Halloween, it is almost as if Mother Nature herself sensed we all needed a bit of a break…and a good snowball fight. Transition in good company, whether it is the changing of the seasons or the departure of those held dear, becomes the soft blanket you long for after an unexpected snow storm. Red Gate Farm is a constant reminder that we as humans are only as strong as the container that holds us, and the people we choose to surround ourselves with fortify that vessel. I am honored and proud to be enveloped by the warm blanket of the Red Gate Farm family, a group of strong, kind-hearted, passionate, endlessly caring, hilarious, authentic, extraordinary people. In this time of transition, I cannot think of a better group of humans to share space, smiles, and serendipitous snowball fights with.

Then came garlic fest 2023! On October 25, 2023, Red Gate Farm staff came together to collectively complete a feat so enormous your socks will be permanently knocked off…pretty inconvenient for winter, sorry about that. We, with smiles on our faces and fingers in the dirt, planted 600 CLOVES OF GARLIC!!!! 600!!!!!! Singing and laughing with every dibble, we plopped single cloves into their new winter caverns, sprinkling a little Red Gate magic in with every teeny garlic baby. Planting garlic humbled me-in the enchanting alchemy of the garden, one tiny clove becomes 8,10,12 cloves all wrapped up in a papery bulb; green flags wave in the warmth of summertime, beckoning our hands to unveil the magical transformation that has unfolded over the winter and spring. I see this transformation as a vital reminder that the seeds of kindness, love, compassion, and joy, once planted with care, increase exponentially, especially when experienced and shared in community with others. 

This week has seen us finishing bucking up our logs and organizing our firewood to keep us warm this winter, chipping our final pile of leaves and spreading them as mulch atop our sleepy garden beds, collecting garden signs and de-trellising tomatoes and beans, and breathing deeply as we watch the farm’s diaphragm slowly but surely contract. This month and the next we have/will also be saying goodbye to two of our incredible farmer-educators. With the new year approaching, the new season approaching, the new flow of the farm approaching, new educators on the horizon, I am once again firmly planted in a state of bittersweetness. This place, these people have become my family in so many ways. It is a strain on my heart to say goodbye to the people who have come to mean so much to me, who I admire so much, who have been mentors and friends alike. And, because I care about them so much, I am elated to see them embark upon new and exciting adventures. Red Gate Farm is also a place that has underscored the importance of holding two seemingly opposed things-emotions, facts, etc., at once in my mind and body. To be a fully embodied person is to hold space for these paradoxes, allow these emotions to flow through you, colliding and entwining to create a dynamic landscape of ‘aliveness.’ 

Transition is hard, yes, and it is always happening. Working at the farm, watching change unfold so constantly and being among such special souls makes holding these sticky feelings just a little less painful, a little less destabilizing. With some pretty massive transitions coming up in my life,-graduating undergrad chief among them-I am deeply grateful to the farm for strengthening my ‘getting through, and even appreciating, transitions’ muscle. I end today’s blog with a heart both aching and glowing. Seasons change, people come and go. Blanketed by the warmth of community and meaningful work, these facts feel a little more tender to my soul.