Precarious Nature of Life

I was there maybe eight minutes early, the morning icy cold, the fog on my windshield forming as I waited.  I almost drove down to the main garden, just to see how the crops had done overnight, swaddled under row covers.  But something told me not to.  

Rod would be on time--he always was--and I didn't want him to show up to no one.  I unlocked the gate surrounding the greenhouse complex and went in, sliding its big door open.  Just then, he pulled up and backed in his truck, bringing the compost that, later in the morning, after the excitement I didn't know was about to happen, would fill two of the eight new indoor food pantry beds. 

Rod stepped out of his truck, told me he wasn't feeling well (something this 81-year-old man had never said to me in the year and a half I have known him), complaining of sharp pain in his head, and I saw that half his face was drooping.  A 911 call and screaming sirens followed, and Rod was rushed away.  

 



One week later, he is back.  Unloading.  Digging.  Advising.  As usual. 

And in this still of early morning, as the events of the last week still swirl in my head, the precarious nature of life for all of us front and center in my mind, I would like to share with you this photo essay of Rod Pittman, a lifetime organic farmer who has had his hands in farms all over the world and who still works full-time consulting on farms on both coasts of the United States.  

We are extraordinarily grateful to have Rod as our mentor, friend and fellow advocate for organic agriculture in all its wonderful proven and experimental forms (no one does more experiments than Rod!).  Thank you, Rod.  You continue to change the world for the better with every seed you plant, every conversation you have, and every new community gardener and urban farmer you inspire.

And, now, the greenhouse food pantry beds planted, the bones of our year-round growing operation in place, Rod talks of vertical growing, of hydroponics, of solar water heating.  Rod said to me yesterday, as we stood in the greenhouse surrounded by so many new faces, "You won't believe what we can do in here."  With you involved, Rod, I do believe.  And I can't wait to see what grows.

 

Precarious Nature of Life