I took this picture during a visit to Falls Creek Farm in Oneco, Connecticut. It's how I picture my first field, and when I wake up this morning my head is full of fresh produce, a bountiful harvest... brimming with beginner's luck.
When I get to my office, the first thing I do is call Walter's cell phone. He never answers, I am told, so I leave him a message. It goes something like, "Hey, Walter! Thanks for your time yesterday. I'm really excited about your offer. I'd like to stop by, look at the field and get organized as soon as possible." I leave my number, confident he'll call.
Ten minutes later, Mike calls. "Not gonna work," he tells me. "Sister hit the roof... reamed him up and down. Something about insurance and leased fields." Mike is reflective. "I was afraid of this... his sister can be difficult."
There's an Irish proverb, I believe, that says, "Rejection is God's Protection." After Mike's call, I find the courage to call Wychwood, the farm that I had always dreamed of calling, but never believed would take me seriously. The man who owns 600 of the most beautiful acres of farmland in Stonington and North Stonington seemed more to me like a rock star than Farmer Brown, turkey rancher.
I cannot remember the conversation, just that Farmer Brown said, "Come by at two."At two he's on a tractor, about to cut a hay field. I decide to leave him be, come back at four. At four, we talk a little, he introduces me to Jim, his good friend and farmhand. Afterwards, we climb onto a small utility cart, he drives us behind a barn and shows me a field that had recently been plowed and fertilized. There we sit. I get out of the cart, reach to the soil, pick up a clump and break it.
"That's been fertilized, has turkey droppings in it, too."
"Don't care. I can wash my hands," I answer wanting to sound tough.
"Well, Ben," Farmer Brown explains, I can't promise this any more than one year at a time. I have a man I lease two hundred acres of hay fields to... it's the same deal.
"No problem. I've learned nothing is forever."
"Well, I'm going to need to talk this over with my wife," he says as we drive back to my car. "Here she is right now."
"I can leave..."
"No, that's O.K."
I'm not sure what to expect as she walks over. "Hi, I'm Ben," I croak.
"I'm Ann." She's confident, and I can tell I'm going to like her.
"Ben wants to learn about farming," George explains.
"You want to know my story?" I ask.
"Sure," she smiles. I grab a little bag of Mystic Chips from the utility cart and hand it to her.
"These are yours?"
"They were, but I sold the brand to Utz Quality Foods a few years ago. I'm going out again. I like to create products that have real roots, and would like to say that I at least took the time to learn how to raise food before selling it.
"I love it," she laughs. We stand there talking and laughing in the parking lot, a huge farm, silent road, and still silo in the background, I ask them if I can take their picture. They laugh. "Sure."
For the first time in a decade, I'm getting the feeling that the craziest of plans somehow have a way of taking on a sensible life. For me, it means there is promise, once again.
I believe that if I want to, I can create once again!
Copyright 2010, BenGreenfield, All Rights Reserved
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