Feet on the Street, Farming
Even living in a remote corner of the county, it’s impossible to miss whiffs of the world’s troubles. Floods, rage, political turmoil, violence. And it can equally be discouraging, wondering whether it’s ever going to get any better.
The drive from Hayward back to the farm after packing up the twice-monthly farmer market at NorthLakes Community Clinic (first and third Thursdays) usually finds the BBC News Hour on the radio. 20 minutes of those headlines is enough to insight an impulsive switch of the nob to off as I drive through placid woods and waters. Uck…what a mess out there.
How do you make a difference, when there is so much unhappiness in this world? Well, you start where you are, with what you have, in the time you are given (as a young radio interviewee fighting terminal cancer so aptly put it). For me, that’s here on the family’s diversified homestead.
Feet on the street (or grass, as it were). They say, “Put your money where your mouth is,” but I’d add to that “Put your feet where your heart is.” With a heart for stewarding the land, for providing foods that bring wellness to the community, for knitting together a sustainably minded local foods network, and for encouraging creatives or all disciplines, my feet hit that street each morning with the daily devotion of chores. Quick change, open the shop, “How can I help you today? Beautiful day in the neighborhood.”
This holiday weekend, my feet had a thorough workout on the stained concrete floor, taking orders, delivering steaming plates, scooping gelato, telling our story.
Stories matter. Just as the terrors and anguish on the radio can become personally destructive and demoralizing, the stories we choose to share can either follow in step or create hope and possibility. We are the feet on our streets—where are we choosing to take this journey?
At our final “Spoken Word” gathering last Thursday, my drawing for the three-word challenge also pulled on the idea of feet—or at least a part of the foot. The heel.
Three-word poetry challenge: pole, heel, shell
The heel gets such a bad rap
Achilles’ heel
Being a heel
Trying in vain to get your dog to heel.
But on a farm, heels are critical.
They thrust the shovel into the soil,
Tramp the earth around the new fence pole,
Convince the quirky coop door to shut
When it warps from the dampness of the dew.
Heels encourage horses forward,
Strike the earth first with every step,
Trounce the unwelcomed bug on the floor,
And mark the time signature during barn dances.
In the evening, the cow kicks up her heels,
Heading back to the barn from pasture.
Odd to call it that,
When hooves are only toes.
Plant your heel when cranking the corn sheller,
It might give you a good shake.
Tip your heels to run the hydraulics
On our “powered pitchfork” skid-steer.
Heels drive in the stakes
That hold down the garden’s plastic mulch,
And balance your being on one foot
While the other swings over the fence.
Heels bear our weight all day
And the 50-pound sack of feed I’m loading up
For morning chores
One-two-three-four of them.
Heels hold me steady up and down the stairs
At Farmstead, serving breakfast,
Steaming eggs from happy hens,
Fresh and glowing salads like living artwork.
Click your heels when you’re happy,
Massage your heels when they’re sore.
Protect them from wayward thorn and nail.
They serve your biped activities every day,
Unsung.
***
Feet on the street. When homesteads received their three-year inspection for the official granting of land in the 1800’s, one of the major qualifiers was the trodden nature of walkways in the barnyard. You could become fully vested if you showed your full investment—with the work of your feet.
So instead of accepting discouragement, bitterness, or apathy, choose to put your feet where your heart is. Show up for the future you wish to see in your world—toes, heels, and arches (wheels count too!). In the end, it really is about doing what we can, where we are, with the time we are given. I’ll be showing up again for chores and Farmstead Creamery tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. Together, we make it happen, right here. See you down on the farm sometime.
