How many people have been down a path they think is true, yet never feel settled? How many people have decided they will not change paths because the fear is too much, the wonder of what will come is too much, and the stupid little troubles of money supersede their own happiness?
On my three hour ride up to the beautiful San Juan Ridge, in the vast Sierra Nevada mountain range, I spoke to a friend who reminded me of a conversation we had before I fearfully moved my life across the country. She told me I wasn't going to let fear get before my giant leap; that jumping, though sometimes the hardest action to make, can be the most rewarding. This is where I stand now - full of fear and hope and desire.
I rolled up to shanty row at Mountain Bounty farm and felt myself let go. It's quiet. It's simple. It's farm life. Here is to an incredible journey...
For those who hope to follow my writings here, this is what you have to look forward to: nerdy writings about vegetables and soil, prose full of imagery, funny stories about mistakes and composting toilets and catching chickens when they get loose. You will hear me hurt, laugh, and wonder. You will hear me feel humbled by my modest knowledge thus far, and hopefully pride of how much I am learning.
Weeks One and Two: Getting to know myself here
Mountain Bounty Farm is a 15+ acre vegetable farm about 25 minutes northwest of Nevada City, CA. As you drive past the whimsical towns down in the valley, you rise up to about 2,500'. You spin through roads blanketed by pines and madrones, the south fork of the Yuba river, and cliffs seemingly peering over the world. Wild turkeys and deer speckle the sides of the roads, along with the less obvious creatures buzzing in the dirt and the flowers and the depths of the woods.
At first glance my living situation leaves something to be desired. My modest 8'/10' cabin looks more like a shed from the outside. Our shared kitchen, down the path from where I sleep, is off the grid and powered by propane and a solar panel. The propane fridge is the smallest I've ever seen, and for 6 of us we must daily play Jenga with our yogurt and jams. Our shower and sink are outside, glorious and hot, though not covered well for the more modest of folk. The "pooper", a composting toilet, lies up the hill and through the gate a few hundred feet away. If you walk down the path towards John and Angie's house, you will come across the barn, the lower home site fields, and the small orchard. We live "up top", where the upper home site fields are located, spread perfectly for Saturday morning coffee viewing.
Though small and totally off the grid, my cabin is my oasis. It has cracks and places where bugs and dirt can get in, but I love it. I have never slept better in my life. I fall asleep by 10 pm the latest, waking by 6:30 or so to get to the barn by 8 o'clock. The kitchen in the morning becomes a puzzle as well, as the 6 of us sway in between one another, hurriedly making coffee and breakfast and sometimes our lunch for the day.
The first two weeks have been very challenging. The work, though sometimes so hard I think my body might break, is actually a very meditative experience for me. The nights approach quickly as I hit my pillow with so much gratitude I laugh into an exhaustive sleep. The six returning managers, most of whom were interns at one time, maybe even last year, commiserate with us on the cold nights, the small kitchen, the walk to the pooper. They also tell us to work efficiently and fast. They support us and teach us, and tell us to transition from task to task quickly. They remind us to laugh. They remind us to be serious.
The other 5 interns are a blessing. Though the first week was a lot of shaking out, a lot of tiptoeing and getting to know each other and weird camp-like anxiety, as the second week ends I realize how easy it has been to feel comfortable around them. Though questions still linger - how do I be myself here? How do I expect to transfer my lifestyle to this one? How might I be able to re-imagine myself in these walls, with these people? I told myself a while ago that I was looking forward to creating intimate relationships with fewer people. I think the hard thing about living in the city is that I had met so many people, yet didn't know many people very well. That is my bread and butter - intimate relationships, comfort and clarity in those relationships, and feeling free to be myself. Finally I have it.
For those who hope to follow my writings here, this is what you have to look forward to: nerdy writings about vegetables and soil, prose full of imagery, funny stories about mistakes and composting toilets and catching chickens when they get loose. You will hear me hurt, laugh, and wonder. You will hear me feel humbled by my modest knowledge thus far, and hopefully pride of how much I am learning.
Weeks One and Two: Getting to know myself here
Mountain Bounty Farm is a 15+ acre vegetable farm about 25 minutes northwest of Nevada City, CA. As you drive past the whimsical towns down in the valley, you rise up to about 2,500'. You spin through roads blanketed by pines and madrones, the south fork of the Yuba river, and cliffs seemingly peering over the world. Wild turkeys and deer speckle the sides of the roads, along with the less obvious creatures buzzing in the dirt and the flowers and the depths of the woods.
At first glance my living situation leaves something to be desired. My modest 8'/10' cabin looks more like a shed from the outside. Our shared kitchen, down the path from where I sleep, is off the grid and powered by propane and a solar panel. The propane fridge is the smallest I've ever seen, and for 6 of us we must daily play Jenga with our yogurt and jams. Our shower and sink are outside, glorious and hot, though not covered well for the more modest of folk. The "pooper", a composting toilet, lies up the hill and through the gate a few hundred feet away. If you walk down the path towards John and Angie's house, you will come across the barn, the lower home site fields, and the small orchard. We live "up top", where the upper home site fields are located, spread perfectly for Saturday morning coffee viewing.
Though small and totally off the grid, my cabin is my oasis. It has cracks and places where bugs and dirt can get in, but I love it. I have never slept better in my life. I fall asleep by 10 pm the latest, waking by 6:30 or so to get to the barn by 8 o'clock. The kitchen in the morning becomes a puzzle as well, as the 6 of us sway in between one another, hurriedly making coffee and breakfast and sometimes our lunch for the day.
The first two weeks have been very challenging. The work, though sometimes so hard I think my body might break, is actually a very meditative experience for me. The nights approach quickly as I hit my pillow with so much gratitude I laugh into an exhaustive sleep. The six returning managers, most of whom were interns at one time, maybe even last year, commiserate with us on the cold nights, the small kitchen, the walk to the pooper. They also tell us to work efficiently and fast. They support us and teach us, and tell us to transition from task to task quickly. They remind us to laugh. They remind us to be serious.
The other 5 interns are a blessing. Though the first week was a lot of shaking out, a lot of tiptoeing and getting to know each other and weird camp-like anxiety, as the second week ends I realize how easy it has been to feel comfortable around them. Though questions still linger - how do I be myself here? How do I expect to transfer my lifestyle to this one? How might I be able to re-imagine myself in these walls, with these people? I told myself a while ago that I was looking forward to creating intimate relationships with fewer people. I think the hard thing about living in the city is that I had met so many people, yet didn't know many people very well. That is my bread and butter - intimate relationships, comfort and clarity in those relationships, and feeling free to be myself. Finally I have it.
More to come on lessons learned. For now, I breathe deep knowing I am working myself hard and creating clarity. Thank you for your unconditional support.
Erica
<3
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