great day
while the guests’ experience is of the utmost priority for us in the garden—as well as anyone on staff, anywhere on property—entertaining a guest, by definition, prevents us from working the land. this is not a bad thing—nay, in fact, it’s by design. a hoe will be dropped, a water hose turned to dry, and a packet of seeds folded into our overalls at the mere possibility of attending to a guest’s needs or wants.
financially speaking, the amount of revenue generated from selling a guest a private demo, of various sorts, is equal or greater to an entire week’s worth of produce to be harvested and sold to the kitchen. it’s simple math. guest + happy = revenue. or even more importantly = repeat guest. while this moneythought couldn’t be farther from the fore of our mind while entertaining guests in the fields, the simple fact will always bubble beneath the surface. for the farm to exist, the hotel must exist, and for the hotel to exist, it must make money. sustainability includes economics, in addition to compost and heirlooms.
today on the farm, as close to no guests found their way to the garden, we found our own selves with the somewhat rare opportunity of farming for the whole day long. on the one of september, high noon felt like a pretty familiar august scorcher. sweat beaded from every angle on my body, forming small platoons, marching swiftly across my shirt in ever expanding pools. weedy thorns pierced my fingertips and lodged themselves beneath my skin like bee stings. dirt clouded up in my face as I tore the expiring summer crops from the drought-ridden soil. dirt filled my mouth and caked my nostrils, until a particularly eager particle would launch itself through the air in a last ditch effort to attack me in the eye. and for the first time since never, I thought of my high school chemistry class, emergency eye wash station and all.
our winter green house got worked clean, and the tomatoes and peppers were picked clean. the fields took a bath, the chickens ate worms, and the potatoes were dug. sheep pastures for the winter were pondered on, the tractor worked fine, and the cat slept all day on the peas. fresh shiitakes were plucked from logs, and the bees were active. one of the truffle dogs stopped by to say, ‘what’s up?’.
coming off a lasting dry spell, fall feels nigh upon us—it’s colors already draping across many-a trunks throughout the surrounding hills. the cool air rides quickly down these hills at nightfall in the most pleasant and refreshing arrival. autumn waits ready in the wings.
I'm High On Cooking
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