Bats and Rats and the Power of Imagination

I went to the farm with some divas that need good coffee and don’t own hiking shoes.  They know I call them divas because I tell them to their faces, I tell them they’re drama. But I love them because they join me on adventures and are up for trying new things even though it might be a little rough. 

Well not that rough.  We decided to stay on the farm but instead of setting up a tent and rolling out a sleeping bag like most outdoorsy people might, we paid to have someone else do it for us and place beds with blankets and sheets inside, cover the floor with multi colored rugs and set up an outdoor table with pillows to sit on.  It was all very glamorous out there in nature, until…we saw the gap. There was a 4-inch gap between the bottom of the tent wall and the wood planked entrance (yes it had rolled out wood planks like a porch, stop it). The gap was just the right size for, I don’t know, SNAKES or RATS! As we began to ponder all the potential critters that might join us in the evening we began to squeal like little girls and lift up our feet onto our six-inch elevated beds where we would obviously be out of reach of the potential rattler. Nature suddenly went from charming and adventurous to terrifying and unknown and sure to take our lives by the end of the night.

I tried my best to be the strong one who could handle wild life, so I kept my mouth shut in an effort to deescalate the rapidly increasing emotional mania. I was keeping it cool.

Then we went to bed.  I lay there recollecting a snake story I once heard about the little reptile finding its way into someone’s bed and coiling up in between his legs.  I hate the person who told me that story; I will always have to live with its taunting potential.  I laid there listening for a rattler noise ready at any moment for it to raise its diamond shaped head up from next to my bed and hiss at me before it bites me in the face. I’ll probably need face reconstruction surgery if I survive, I probably won’t even look the same. My poor face, I’m so sad to have to have it ruined, good thing I live in Orange County they have lots of good plastic surgeons there.  We don’t have very good cell service, might be hard to get the ambulance out here. 

Then the tent rustles and with my blind eyes all I can see is formerly charming shadow of apple blossoms cast by the moon that is definitely a large animal not a shadow.  Glasses on, no it’s fine, still a tree. I’ll just sleep with my glasses on my face, that’s a totally normal thing to do. Not comfortable but it’s important for my survival that I do it.

Why are my legs itching, oh yes, it’s clearly a black widow biting me, definitely 10 maybe 20 spiders in my bed. A quick sweep with my hand around the bed to be sure nothing is inside ready to lay eggs and cozy up with me for the night. I guess I just need to wrap myself up in my sheets like a burrito - that will keep them out.  Do it real fast, tuck all the edges…ok it’s fine.

Good there’s a pack of coyotes howling, pretty far away though…nope they’re definitely right outside out tent probably picking up the scent of their next prey.  They will break through the thin canvas, they travel in packs right? We’ll probably all die.  Our poor families. Do I think they’ll be deterred by my pepper spray, potentially, it could save our lives.  Ok sleeping with pepper spray in my hand.  Dammit this is it, “God please forgive me and please let me into heaven, I’m headed there tonight.”  Maybe I should call Trever to tell him I love him.  

Bats! I hate bats.  They’re flying rats. Someone once told me they get caught up in girl’s hair when it’s long.  I’ll put my hood on; don’t want any bats in my hair giving me rabies.

Speaking of bats, RATS…

And there it is.  Moved momentarily out of my irrational fear I see myself - cocooned in my sheets tight up to my tense shoulder my hood tied around my face so that the only thing exposed is my nose and mouth, eyes wide with glasses on and smushed against my face, a hand tightly clutched to the pink pepper spray attached to my keys…I am not keeping it cool.

I talked myself down and begged for sleep to come and rescue me from myself, and it finally did right before the rooster so kindly informed us it was morning. We woke to a critter free tent and walked outside to the most beautiful view of orchards and golden hills.  The scary nature monster turned out to just be a shadow cast in the darkness by the exquisite beauty and diversity of the great outdoors.

“Brooke, how did you sleep last night?”

“Great!!! I love nature, I might need a nap later but it’s cool.  You guys are total divas.”

Apple mint and Sourdough Bread

I started the day with a woman called Claire who works here at the farm.  She has her degree in Sustainable Farming and did interesting things like moving to Ecuador for two months to study their farming.  In Ecuador they eat sustainable whole foods that aren’t processed, preserved or sprayed with pesticides, just because that’s the way food is made.  They don’t have access to chemicals so the food doesn’t have chemicals.  It’s not yuppy, it’s their only option. We spent the day transplanting orange mint and arugula so they would grow bigger.  We seeded peas and told stories and asked questions and learned from each other.  I ate the mint while I worked.  I dug my hands into dirt without thinking twice…then I saw a black widow and put on gloves cause really, I’m from Orange County and I’m not that tough.

At lunch Bill invited me over for bread making. He is everything you want a farmer to be.  He is knowledgeable about his trade and works tirelessly to create a sustainable way for farming.  He went to a conference a few months back to meet with some Berkley students who are researching how it is they can get young people back on farms making a living, avoiding the dreaded industrialized farmer takeover.  He cares enough to fight for a different way to work the land.  He invited me into his home and taught me how to make sourdough bread, then cut me a slice toasted with homemade mayo, Dijon, spinach and avocado.  He brought me a book list for readings I might find interesting and loaned me one about urban farming.  He brought me over some fresh eggs the perfect shade of grey/blue with bright orangie yolks and I fried them with some thyme I grabbed from one of the greenhouses. He’s generous, kind, interesting and I wish I could be their surrogate granddaughter.

I’ve realized in my time here that with open space and silence I’m affected really deeply.  I would do things like watch the wind move the grass, or the clouds change shape.  I would listen to the pattern of a birds songs or the crunch noise from the sheep pulling up grass. I contemplated nature and earth as this big strong living being all connected like one body with different parts - everything has its little job and together it’s exquisite.  I stared at an apple blossom because it looks like a tiny peony. I rode a bike with no destination and I climbed a steep mountain that didn’t have a trail. I sat in Bill & Barbara’s kitchen while they told me stories about farming and their life together.  I held a book and never read it.  I didn’t need input.  Just to look at the purples and golds of the hills was enough.  I felt like all these layers fell off when I got alone.  I don’t ever want to be lonely and am so grateful for friends and family, but sometimes the busyness keeps me from awareness.  Maybe it’s because I’m an introvert but I felt that when I got alone, as hard as it was, I felt more.  I thought more.  I cried over nothing, and I prayed more because God felt like he was everywhere.  So, either I’ve gone a little crazy, or this has all been really life giving. It feels fresh, like eating a kale salad or the way I feel right after a good run. 

Sage Blossoms

Yesterday was my first day volunteering at Wind Rose Farm. I woke up so grateful for the sun because I had a cold and sleepless night.  I don’t know that I’ve ever been consciously grateful for the sun, but there I lay watching the world go from grey and black to gold and green and found myself a little weepy over the grace of morning.  

Bill and Barbara Spencer are the organic farmers here and they know so much about the earth I feel like such robot.  Like I’m this piece of machine that lives in between concrete walls and am never human enough to touch the earth.  When I was wrapping bundles of rose scented geranium - which will be used to make rose ice cream at a restaurant in Santa Monica - Barbara asked me what I was looking for in my time at the farm.  I didn’t really have an answer except I knew I wanted to experience something new and develop an appreciation for nature and thus God. Her response, “well, a little dirt should help you get there”.  Dirt. Yes of Course.

Together Barbara and I bounced around from one greenhouse to another and then on to other gardens.  We were bundling lettuce, thyme, rosemary, sage blossoms, Sicilian oregano, arugula blossoms, chocolate geranium, Portuguese kale, apple mint and so much more. I’ve never been so aware of scent and how many rich smells can come from the earth. I’ve never been so aware of my ears and the silence or the sound of wind in the trees and infinity birds. I’ve also never been so aware of how much my body could hurt, it feels good to work hard and sleep hard, but also I should probably do a little yoga in the morning.

What must it be like to be such a genius like God, making things that smell like arugula - and little bushes that taste like thyme - and red ladybugs that protect lettuce leaves?  This whole system relies on the system and it works when we let it. Concrete and gushers are such a sad imitation.

Barbara talks to her plants sometimes and I’m obsessed.  “So these arugula blossoms can be used in a salad with the leaves and – oh hello there mustard, we need to have a talk you are much to big.” I’m into it. If I lived, worked with and loved plants every day I probably would too.

I was invited into their home for a spinach and egg frittata in which all the items were sourced from the farm or from surrounding farms that they had direct relationship with. Butter, eggs, flower, roasted garlic, feta cheese, spinach all from a couple mile radius.  Bill made a comment about the farming industry and politicians chief concern being cheap food “but with the disease and health risks that go with this industrial farming we really have the most expensive food in the world” - word.

In other news I bottle fed a little lamb. And if your question is, could I possibly get more hippie than this post, it’s too soon to tell…but probably, yes.