Change is constant

Change is constant.  And one rule of resilience is abundance.  So I want to begin this post clear in the fact that although we don’t yet know what this year or the following will bring, we do believe we’re moving forward, in the right direction… whatever that is and wherever that takes us.

As positive as I am about what’s ahead, I feel tremendous loss.  Beginning this year, 2011, we will no longer farm on Fuller Street.  We will maintain our three acres at Soule, but our home base for the past four years is no longer ours

It has been difficult to process this loss.  There’s no wake, no funeral, no sitting shiva.  There’s no headstone.  In fact there’s no body.  Fuller Street sits there as it always has.  As if nothing has changed.  And because it’s January there is no way to understand that something so significant is gone.  January is always like this.  Occasionally we might swing by there to get something from the barn, or store something in the attic, but basically it sits idle until spring.

What’s now gone is not Fuller Street.  It’s the life and the community that would awaken early each spring filled with anticipation and would be followed by the excitement of families picking up their first share of the year.  It would be rich with laughter – children running around the farm, playing on the tractors, feeding the goats, eating peas as fast as they could pick them.  It would include exhausting and at the same time lazy afternoons chatting with CSA members as they sorted through the potatoes and onions selecting just the right ones, telling jokes, sharing recipes, complaining about the weather, and reveling over the food.  It included cold rainy days hiding under the tent as some members crammed in to stay dry while they filled their baskets while still others marched off into the rain to pick their flowers and stock up on tomatoes and basil.  It included farm days full of music, food, and friends.  It lasted four years and became a rich and fulfilling experience for me.

As I went back to school for my first fall weekend in September, before the farm season had fully ended, I felt a sense of loss knowing that this past year couldn’t be repeated.  I would graduate in May and would have to find work in addition to the farm.  I knew then that the freedom I’d had for the last two years was temporary… it was a gift.  But at that time I assumed the world I’d come to love would continue.  And that whatever I did, it would include finding days on the farm and afternoons with the CSA.

I am grateful that this change took place now, and not a year ago and that I’ve been able to immerse myself in that life for the time that I did.  I don’t doubt that through the farm and other, as of yet, unknown future activities I will continue to find rich and fulfilling experiences.  I hope and trust that we find new land to rebuild both the soil and community that we’ve spent the last 4 years cultivating.  But just as Plato brings us happiness while doing nothing to lessen the loss of Einstein, the new paths and unexpected joys that come next won’t change the loss I feel over the community we all shared on Fuller Street.


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9 responses to “Change is constant

  1. I have been waiting for the CSA info for 2011 to come through since we were so looking forward to joining again this year after our baby-life hiatus last year. How sad that we cannot. How sad that we ALL cannot. Our family truly missed Plato’s Harvest last year and were so looking forward to being a part of it all again. :( Please let us know if/when you start doing a CSA again!

  2. Sasha,
    As always beautifully written. I think I can speak for more than just my family; that as a community we will sorely miss the CSA and time spent with you & Dave on Fuller Street. We wish you so much luck in your future endeavors & will be hoping to join you in a CSA again at some point.
    Very sad news indeed, Patrick (now almost 3 1/2) has been asking when we were going to see Plato again, his goat friend (he’s told his teacher & classmates all about him). See you at the Farmer’s market.
    The Bell Family

  3. We share your sadness. I retain hope that new land will become available, though, and we’ll be right there with you!

  4. Laurie Hepworth

    Sasha and Dave,

    We were stunned and saddened to hear the news. It was always a micro-vacation to take a break and visit the farm to pick up our share. We have to admit that some days it seemed like a chore getting over there but once there we never wanted to leave.
    We’ll keep our eyes and ears open for farmable land.

    Laurie and Michael

  5. Amy Martell

    Sasha and Dave –
    I have been reeling from this news since you put it out there on the email list and web; we are all so sad. What you all created was so much more than an opportunity to have good local, organic food – you really did create a community and consciousness. I loved bringing Lu and Theo, and watching them amble about, picking peas and flowers and tomatoes, hanging out with the goats. We can’t imagine going through our summer without Plato’s Harvest pickups, but will have to just make it to the farmer’s market more often. It won’t be the same. Wish I had land to offer – I’d do it in a heartbeat.

    – Amy and the Martells

  6. Lisa Rich

    Great job with the video Sasha…. once again.
    Great song…. you have captured the melancholy in our hearts over this loss. Just today I told yet another person you are looking for farmland. It is out there somewhere! One day this season will just look like a bump in the road.

  7. Chandan Maddanna

    I was in silence without many ripples last night under a beautiful moon, utterly happy, deeply alone in a dense solitude and suddenly, a thought surfaced with remembrance of you having lost this piece of land, and looking for a new one bubbled.

    deeply connecting with the mother that your are naturally Sasha, there was certainly a clear intent in the mind sky, that whatever is required to restore happiness of your family ( all inclusive ), hoping it to be available for your purpose… directed these thoughts to the silence…

    this is my kind of prayer, that happens naturally in utter spontaneity rising out of nowhere. whatever help and support it offers in this direction in your requirement, that only gives me immense joy.

    I wish to see you with all you “paraphernalia” soon. I am not very different form you all, in thoughts and peace, i share the very space u love so much.

    little being, loving to watch a loving family and community. be blessed and loved by the universe.

  8. Oh my gosh what a sad story. I am originally from Milford Mass so I had to laugh about the “complaining about the weather” comment. I remember the cold! (Although down here in FLA I now know the intense heat.) Is is the fact that my experience with the CSA is so similar that makes me so sad. Lazy afternoons chatting over onions and potatoes, children laughing, sharing recipes…..all the things I love about my farm and I can’t imaging living without now. I wish you luck in the future!

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