I get to the Farm around one-oclock. When Debbie arrives, a couple of hours later, she brings along a sign that she's tacked to a wooden stake. On it, she's printed,
"Field of Dreams...
Field of Greens"
Anything that a person does, of a entrepreneurial nature, involves embracing a dream. On the other hand, much of dream weaving involves hard work, sacrifice, and attention to details. Deb tells me that she spent a little time with her parents, that her mom is concerned that I'll be frittering my days away in a corn field instead of looking for gainful employment.
"Deb, first of all, I still have a little bit of snack business left, and I've been asked to represent an old and fascinating candy company."
"I know, and I never told her that."
"It's not your job to," I decide. "Being an entrepreneur is lonely, little guy business, and it'll be this way until the rest of the world realizes that you have a great idea."
"I believe," she says, with a hug.
"Come on. Let's finish this field." "Check out the wall." I've decided to consolidate all of the stones from one side of the field, and build a dry wall. It actually saves time, holds tools, and when we plant the area in pumpkins, it will be a great place to rest and enjoy the bounty of our labor. Farming, I am finding, is all about preparation, skill, and a large measure of luck.
For the better part of the afternoon,
Debbie picks hundreds of stones from the field. She tosses them in the line of the wall while I rototill the balance of the field. Just as we're about to finish, I hear the high sputter of a golf cart. It's Mrs. Brown, George's (Farmer Brown) wife. She coasts to a stop on the concrete path beside the field. "Hi!" She's come to check out our work and, I guess, meet Debbie."
"Hi, Ann! This is Debbie."
"That's me, just picking your Stonington Potatoes."
Ann laughs. "You've been working two days, just wanted to come and say hi. It looks great."
I show her my wall, and we talk about planting corn and pumpkins, and other more exotic crops. She tells me not to worry about corn, that they have it on their farm, and it's even easier to get from other growers." But I still want to plant some if I can find a variety that pops.
I decide that I love talking with Ann because I think she understands what I'm trying to accomplish. She knows, as do I, that the bigger dreams, the actual products that eventually come from this farming experiment, and the specialty plants, will take longer. She and George understand that I need to plant for cash this season, even if it is a small amount. After all, I only have a half acre to train on.
After Ann leaves, I go back to the rototiller. I keep thinking about Deb's mom's comment. Maybe she's right. In fact, in most cases, she would be right, but I realize that I am ultimately the only person who can assess risk. Even, with the most detailed business plan, which, by Wall Street standards would contain more bullshit than a cattle barn, I would still be the only person able to assess the true risk. I believe this because my most successful projects have come from my heart, and with or without a business plan, no one will really understand the full potential of my idea. In fact, I have learned that ideas evolve, opportunities - like meeting and being accepted by the owners of this farm - come and go, and that's why I choose to throw myself into this project. I'm convinced that enough positive elements have fallen into place.
Tired and grubby, we finish the field around 6:30.
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