Us Are Workers
Twenty some years ago Craig and I bought a piece of property in the middle of a forest and decided to build an off the grid homestead. This life is not for the weary, nor is it for anyone who needs constant stimulation outside themselves. Remote living comes with beautiful views and lots of time to think, so a strong body and mind is crucial for success. Lucky for us both Craig and I grew up in the Midwest where the work ethic is second to none. I was raised somewhere between working to middle class; Craig was near poverty. Midwest kids born and raised in the 70’s and 80’s learned work in a way like no other, because 1) you didn’t have a choice, and 2) you wanted money for stuff. I had a paper route at 9 years old (sorry for those early winter Sunday mornings mom!), I babysat for newborns and toddlers (at what age?!?!), and by 13 a workers permit. By junior year I was working almost full time (always in the mall) and Craig (having relinquished his school life for work life) was full time at the factory till he saw what it did to his father and knew there had to be a better way.
Our season here at Alpenglow Farms begins in March, when we start popping seeds and prepping the soil after the fall and winter cover cropping. After the cover crop is terminated and all those nutrients return to the earth, we ready the soil through broadforking, amending, watering, then planting. Water lines and timers are set, and from garden to garden we move through each of these steps every year. We have multiple gardens throughout our homestead, though the actual cannabis growing is around 10,000 square feet (this includes aisles and pathways).
Because of the heat and our preference for waking up with the sun, we are out working by 5:30/6:00am. We work until it gets too hot (usually 12 or 1pm), then head back out to close the dep around 5pm and settle into the evening chores. Starting in May our work days are about 14-16 hours, and by mid-July we are really feeling it. Nature really knows best because this is when the intensity of the work slows; the dep is harvested and Craig has coined the replant “set it and forget it,” (because he no longer has to pull the dep cover twice a day) and work at this point is just nurturing the plants till harvest in September and October. The days are still long, but the unyielding physical labor has loosened and lessened, and that reprieve is regenerating. Harvest days will start even earlier, as we are up an hour or two before sunrise with headlamps, harvesting well before the light peeks over the mountain. This allows us to harvest what’s ready before the heat starts melting the trichomes of the plant. But harvest is a few months away, and I’ll keep this blog in the present and the past as I marvel and wonder how folks our age keep up this pace for our passion.
Moving through life in this unique way was ingrained in our DNA, and its strands are strongly swimming within us all these years later. I’m not sure what instills a good work ethic, though I’ve been thinking about it a lot these past few months as I marvel at the intensity of the season and how many years Craig and I have been at it; but also because I see my daughters and how much and how hard they work. It makes me wonder how such discipline is formed. I think of the adults in my life growing up and everyone worked hard, played hard, and rested hard. There was a grind for sure that moved through the women in my life; they all worked and raised children and always had time for a peanut butter sandwich and a good scolding. The men were always gone working; though I do remember poker nights, water skiing on the lakes, and weekend naps on the couch with the TV on. Not working was not only not an option, but not working hard was unheard of. There was a different sort of pride and purpose that everyone around me put into whatever it was they were doing, regardless of the task at hand. I’ve noticed over the years that that effort seems to be slowly eroding; an expectation that something is owed and trying hard and your best simply for its own sake no longer powers people; the paycheck does. That sort of expectation emits a frequency that diminishes the space around the sacred, and I believe the sacred is found in the everyday mundane.
Success is measured with different metrics depending on the judges, but the energy that drives Craig and I differs from others; for better or worse. Our childhoods may have lacked money and nice outfits, but the houses were spotless, the clothes were ironed, food was on the table (even if it was government issued), and moments of joy existed. There was a faith that filled the spaces in between, and those childhood days were rich with bike rides and creek crossings, autumn leaves piled high, snow forts and sledding, and the excitement of adulthood and freedom. That time in our lives pushed and propelled me and my husband forward, and we moved not just ahead, but in a way that gave us both a reason for being. The adults from our childhood continued to show up for life regardless of what was in front of them, and they did so in a purposeful way, not a perfect way. It appeared as if they wanted to be a part of life, and they wanted to experience it in a way that exuded an excitement for the here and now despite whatever chaos or calm was present. That feeling those generous and flawed adults left with us was a sense of deep gratefulness, and an appreciation for what we did have and for life itself.
This month’s blog “Us Are Workers” is what our oldest daughter Mahala said to Craig when she was out and about on the property working with him at a very young age; “Us are workers Dada, us are workers.” My girls have always had the privilege of knowing what work looks and feels like, and that privilege has given them ample opportunities in their own lives to create a life they love and earned through their personal hard work. This gift has enabled them to move through the world with a different sort of appreciation and that discipline and drive has given them both true independence; and a sense of self that will follow them wherever they go. A strong work ethic is the one thing that no one can give you or take from you; it’s all yours. It’s a beautiful thing to experience and witness, and also a beautiful gift to give to oneself and the world. Craig and I love the life we created and we love our homestead we built from scratch. I know the endless hard work we’ve put into this land and our family can be felt from our community and from those who support our craft. We love our life and we are so grateful to be here. Magic has always been in the mundane, and to know it’s the everyday little things that build the bigger things has been the greatest lesson and gift of all. Love and blessings to all of the Earth’s beings who get up every morning and do what’s right for the children, themselves, and the world.
