“Who can guess the luna’s sadness who lives so briefly? Who can guess the impatience of stone longing to be ground down, to be part again of something livelier? Who can imagine in what heaviness the rivers remember their original clarity?” These deeply rooted questions posed in Mary Oliver’s poem “The Moth, The Mountains, The Rivers” hit special chords on our farm moving into December. As we say goodbye to November with a full Beaver Moon, the time when beavers are at their busiest— building dens and preparing for winter in the moonlight—this year, we will also see a penumbral lunar eclipse. What this weird word means is that 82% of the moon’s face will darken during the maximum phase of the eclipse from Earth’s outer shadow moving across, perhaps heightening luna’s sadness, or somehow part of the uncertainty and mourning we feel in this difficult time.
The farm will quiet its own rhythm over the next month as we shorten workdays, rest and reflect on the goals for our next growing season. December is a month of clarity, a time to slow down, cleanse our workspaces—the greenhouse, the barn and our fields. It is a time when wildness in water takes hold, a time when the snow geese hoarsely call out like old friends playing jazz.
This year, we are so proud of our crew and how far we have come as farmers and stewards of the land, and how hard we have collaborated in food safety and pandemic protocols. We have tried to do our part to spread kindness, not germs, with masks and social distancing amidst so many personal unknowns. As a group, we have come from all different walks of life, joined together by one goal of growing organic veggies for our community.
Stay safe and well.
Make sure to find us on Instagram @fullcirclefarms.
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