There is magic in these fields we have - the kind of magic that store bought soil or fertilizer cannot bring about. It's a magic that I can only be a part of in the smallest of ways and then the rest is up to the sun, moon and stars. When we moved here, there were scrubby weeds that had grown taller than my husbands face and not an ounce of decent soil existed beneath them, but as the rains have given us grass, the cows have provided rich manure and so the circle of restoring our land began.
During the process of turning weeds and waste into true fertile soil, we've had the suprise of volunteer squash vines growing in great numbers. I'm completely humbled by the massive plant with it's very own intentions and whether or not I am there to trellis the tendrils or support it's fruit, the squash lives on through sun and storms.
Tip toeing amongst the mound of vigorous vines, I fall so in love with the eagerness of life that surrounds us. Everywhere I turn, life is happening in a way that is supported by a chain of different species. We all depend so greatly on eachother to grow.
Last weekend I went apple picking with my family at Silverman's Farm in Connecticut. We have been going there since I was a kid, when we would all stand by and watch as the apple press squeezed the juice out of freshly-picked apples, and would get to sample the delicious result of apple cider. Unfortunately the apple press has been retired; it is now located inside the market as a symbolic relic from the past. Because of new production standards, the farm no longer offers unpasteurized cider made on the premises, but instead pasteurizes and bottles its cider off site.