Fall arrives again, bringing with it the end of a cycle of people and groups looking to capitalize on the mountainous foliage.
As cool air replaces humidity, the laundry lists of the farm become longer view once again, and there is space for creativity and design.
Harvesting.
The menu at The Silo Cookhouse is like our precious river, changing and flowing with each passing day. Chef Dan & the amazing Silo team are artists, and operate in harmony with what is growing.
One of the best things about the food here, beyond the passion & knowledge of the chefs that create it, is that its reflective of the land… like the rest of the farm.
Artwork & stories.
If you have ever been to The Farm, you’re well aware of the many interesting art pieces that fill its walls and corners.
Johnny & Susan exercise a peculiar humility when it comes to explaining their collection of curiosities. Johnny has sourced pieces such as these headdresses, in an attempt to preserve them, and add pages to their stories.
Susan, is a magnificent jeweler. Though I doubt she would ever term herself with the high esteem that I expect to imply here, her pieces all have stories. Where the gems came from, what inspired her to create such a work, and even the lives that they lived before they were reborn in form, by the work of her hands. Artistry makes a comeback in the fall.
Wellness.
Though New Years Eve, and its concurrent resolutions are just around the corner, there are those who are devoted enough to their wellness practice that they maintain it throughout the year.
Stillness is fought for.
We, at The Farm, are fortunate to host such focused people here often. Many yoga groups pass through The Sanctuary space here, and nearly all of them agree that there is something about this land… this place… that is eager to give of itself. The mystery of the feeling is its own draw.
Communities thriving.
How can it be that these groups wind up here, and then bond in a way that they never have before? What is it about this place that forces people to shed their outer layers and sit in the discomfort of being who they ought to be… I’m not entirely sure, but the presence is powerful, transformative, palpable.
Community in a different light.
The Appalachian Adventure group, by Leh Keen, is a repeat offender here on The Farm, and I say that with the highest esteem!
Leh returns year after year, with a club of car enthusiasts, and he breathes FUN back on to the property. When you are in the business of holding space for people who are doing such important internal work, you find yourself cosmically tired, but without even really being aware of it.
Thank goodness The Farm knows the value of fun. Of loud bonfires, muddy cars, dancing, singing, staying up too late, and sleeping through breakfast.
The Farm is wiser than I ever know to credit her with.
Why do we have to grow up, again?
We don’t really. It’s best not to. The best thing one can possibly do is to recognize how quickly life can lose its joy & wonder, and do everything they can to make sure that it remains intact… no matter what.
Gone for the day.
As the guys departed for their drive of the day, myself and another guest (not part of this group!) lined up at the entryway road to capture the swath of technicolor cars exiting the property. It really is a cool thing to watch, and the quiet of the farm is almost somber when they are gone… Though, we here have learned the value of finding joy in the quiet. Well, we ARE learning.
A mind, made for fog.
If you’re anything like me, fall is a season that you desperately want to love… but it has betrayed you in the past.
As a person who lives with her head in the fog all too often, I think that I magnetically attract the cataclysmic events that fall seems to warrant. Colder weather, long nights, too much space for someone with much on their mind.
It’s good to rest at the end of summer. To toil through the energy and output that just weeks ago, was wildly aflame.
This fall, my effort is to slowly reclaim the beautiful pieces of the season.
Auburn leaves that wistfully sink from their summer home, back to the decay of the earth. Clear mountain views in air that has zero humidity. Sunrises that I unwillingly share with others, perhaps someone will find them as appealing as I do, and keep their pace when the time changes again. Many good things are about this season, and change is something I respect most of all.
