Our class graduation is set for the beginning of June. It's now the beginning of April and simple arithmetic sounds a bell in our collective heads. We've raised two thirds of the necessary funds to install a drip irrigation system and build a large greenhouse for the Patroon Land Farm, but none of us have actually seen the farm (or what one of these green houses even looks like).
Driving up Route 146, it starts raining and I'm watching the temperature gauge drop steadily, first below 60 degrees, then through 50 and bottoming out at 47 once I reach the top of Helderberg escarpment. There's still snow on the ground up here and according to Mark the farmer, we need to drive posts deep into the ground as part of building the structure.... This unusually cold winter has definitely not cooperated with our plans.
Driving up Route 146, it starts raining and I'm watching the temperature gauge drop steadily, first below 60 degrees, then through 50 and bottoming out at 47 once I reach the top of Helderberg escarpment. There's still snow on the ground up here and according to Mark the farmer, we need to drive posts deep into the ground as part of building the structure.... This unusually cold winter has definitely not cooperated with our plans.
When you walk into the existing green house, the first thing you notice are all the tiny sprouts, perfectly lined up on raised beds as a volunteer walks around watering and feeding the still fragile bounty. Mark stands over a homemade wooden table with a dozen or so members of our class. His manner is easy as he causally explains that the greenhouse we'll be building is twice as long as this one. Someone lets out an audible gasp and he simply smiles and continues to go over the list of necessary supplies we've pledged to contribute. Darin asks the question on everyone's minds: "What about the ground frost? When is the soil normally soft enough to excavate?" Mark pauses and smiles before replying, "about 2 weeks ago."
Going into this project, we knew a number of variables would affect the timing and ease of our plans. Listening to Mark pour over all the moving parts necessary to bear fruit, there's a collective feeling of pride in what we've been able to accomplished as a team thus far mixed with the anticipation of long days ahead. Maybe it's Mark's easy manner, the clean country air or being surrounded by so many talented and capable people: but as I listen to Sonya and Mark check off items like a grocery list, I can't help but be optimistic.
Going into this project, we knew a number of variables would affect the timing and ease of our plans. Listening to Mark pour over all the moving parts necessary to bear fruit, there's a collective feeling of pride in what we've been able to accomplished as a team thus far mixed with the anticipation of long days ahead. Maybe it's Mark's easy manner, the clean country air or being surrounded by so many talented and capable people: but as I listen to Sonya and Mark check off items like a grocery list, I can't help but be optimistic.
After solidifying our immediate action items, Mark takes us outside to inspect the area where the new greenhouse will be erected giving Darin the opportunity to envision the excavation that Turner Construction has offered to help us with. He walks out to the center of what is currently a cold, muddy, half-frozen pond that will hopefully soon be a field. As we stand there in that wet, frozen field, the sun starts to poke out through the clouds. With that, one-by-one, we get into our cars to head home.
As I drive back through Thatcher Park I stop to take a couple of photos of a tree balanced on the edge of the cliff. It's roots are strong and it's survived decades of erosion, wind and worse weather than most of us can remember. Mark is a farmer and like that tree balanced at the edge of uncertainty, he knows it takes a more than a little bad weather to ruin what grows from hope and experience.
As I drive back through Thatcher Park I stop to take a couple of photos of a tree balanced on the edge of the cliff. It's roots are strong and it's survived decades of erosion, wind and worse weather than most of us can remember. Mark is a farmer and like that tree balanced at the edge of uncertainty, he knows it takes a more than a little bad weather to ruin what grows from hope and experience.