I'm trying to keep track of the farm skills I've learned so far, so here goes:
How to live in an intentional community
How to use an oscillating hoe.
How to pinch off tomato plant suckers
How to tie up tomatoes
How to properly harvest garlic scapes, lettuce, mustard greens, turnips, radishes, strawberries, sugar snap peas, garlic, zucchini
How to weed just about any vegetable plant
How to string up garlic for curing
How to operate a chain saw
How to operate a tiller
How to set up a drip irrigation system
How to set up a tunnel to protect plants from excess heat or animals
How to properly smush bugs that are eating eggplant leaves
How to water a 3 acre field with a single hose
How to pot up plants
How far apart to space starts for carrots, tomatoes, eggplant, lettuce, peppers
How to break apart a hay bale
How to mulch with hay
How to prepare a bed for planting with mushroom and leaf composts
How to build a frame to hang slaughtered goats on (so that their blood can drain)
How to build a platform for an army tent
How to erect an army tent
How to build wooden bunk beds
Wow-- I've learned a bunch... I'm sure I'll think of more!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Turning up the heat
Today I was reminded about why I am a proud Reform Jew.
I slept gloriously late on this Shabbat morning. I got up and found my way to the kitchen, where an intense discussion was underway. It seems that the cholent pot, containing the slow-cooking traditional Shabbat stew, had been set on “low” before Shabbat, and there was concern that it had not cooked enough, and wouldn’t be fully cooked through for lunch, three hours hence.
A debate was raging. Could someone go over to Pearlstone, find a two-year old, bring them to the kitchen, and place them in front of the cholent pot until they happened, in innocent play, to turn the pot from low to high?
The discussion went on and on as I sat and ate my Cheerios. How old could the child be? Three was deemed too old, as they would no longer simply play, but need to be told what to do, and it was forbidden to instruct someone to turn the heat up, because it’s against Jewish law to benefit from the product of intentionally telling someone to violate Shabbat. In good halakhic form, one person told a story of a time when they were in a house where a major fuse blew, and one of the heads of household held a small child in front of the fuse box and said something like, “wow, Sammy, do you see anything to play with?”
Then, a woman in the process of conversion to Judaism said that she has to do one thing each Shabbat to violate the laws of the day, and she’d be willing to turn the pot up. Another lengthy discussion ensued, in which it was established that as long as no one had asked her to turn the pot up, and as long as it would redound to her benefit (ie. that she herself would be eating the cholent), the rest of us, if we happened to benefit from her self-interested actions, would be fine to consume it. She went and turned up the heat.
Having listened to what seemed to me a crazy conversation, especially in light of the fact that there is a ton of other food available for consumption in the kitchen, I blurted out something I now regret in front of the gathered group of 5 or 6 of my fellow intentional-community cohorts: “This,” I said, “is why I am a Reform Jew.”
I now sit here typing away furiously on this box that halakhah prohibits me from using on Shabbat, feeling terrible about having uttered what must have sounded a horribly judgmental statement. I really and truly feel bad—it was unlike me to do something like that.
It’s not an excuse, but I know that whatever my ideal Shabbat looks like, it’s not in that discussion. I get turning the cholent on and then not doing any formal cooking on Shabbat—I actually really like to idea, and intend to try it when I get home. I get regretting that it was set on low, and bemoaning the fact that what should have been outstandingly tasty beans and potatoes will alas go to waste; this fits in with a religious ethic of letting go of some sense of control on Shabbat. What I don’t get in any way, shape, or form, is how luring in an unwitting baby into the kitchen, hoping (but not asking in any way) that the child might accidentally turn the pot up makes any sense at all. What I don’t accept as a part of my halakhah is how the concept of a Shabbes goy can be acceptable Jewish ethics. I admit that, early on in the conversation, I had half a mind to just go in and turn it up.
But if knew one thing, it was that I wasn’t going to be the Shabbes Reform Rabbi. I like intellectual discussions and debates as much as anyone. But to me, there’s a point where the discussion has to end. Either someone turn the pot up, or get out the cold (but yummy) pasta from last night. But if ritual practice in meant to lead to righteous living in the larger world, what are we teaching when we ask (in however veiled a way) our two year olds and our potential Jews by choice to do what we ourselves are unwilling to defile ourselves by doing?
Let Shabbat be a special time for honesty and straightforwardness in our dealings.
Let it be a time of simplicity rather than intense complexity.
Postscript:
When I returned to the moadon to apologize after hiding out, stewing, thinking, and writing for two hours, I found a few interesting things:
1) No one had actually been mad about my comment; some found it funny.
2) For a few people, the comment actually sparked curiosity about Reform Judaism, both in specific regard to this issue, and also more generally an interest in Reform Judaism in general
3)One Orthodox woman shocked me when she admitted quietly, "Yeah, I also was thinking what a ridiculous debate we were having!"
What a strange people we are...
I slept gloriously late on this Shabbat morning. I got up and found my way to the kitchen, where an intense discussion was underway. It seems that the cholent pot, containing the slow-cooking traditional Shabbat stew, had been set on “low” before Shabbat, and there was concern that it had not cooked enough, and wouldn’t be fully cooked through for lunch, three hours hence.
A debate was raging. Could someone go over to Pearlstone, find a two-year old, bring them to the kitchen, and place them in front of the cholent pot until they happened, in innocent play, to turn the pot from low to high?
The discussion went on and on as I sat and ate my Cheerios. How old could the child be? Three was deemed too old, as they would no longer simply play, but need to be told what to do, and it was forbidden to instruct someone to turn the heat up, because it’s against Jewish law to benefit from the product of intentionally telling someone to violate Shabbat. In good halakhic form, one person told a story of a time when they were in a house where a major fuse blew, and one of the heads of household held a small child in front of the fuse box and said something like, “wow, Sammy, do you see anything to play with?”
Then, a woman in the process of conversion to Judaism said that she has to do one thing each Shabbat to violate the laws of the day, and she’d be willing to turn the pot up. Another lengthy discussion ensued, in which it was established that as long as no one had asked her to turn the pot up, and as long as it would redound to her benefit (ie. that she herself would be eating the cholent), the rest of us, if we happened to benefit from her self-interested actions, would be fine to consume it. She went and turned up the heat.
Having listened to what seemed to me a crazy conversation, especially in light of the fact that there is a ton of other food available for consumption in the kitchen, I blurted out something I now regret in front of the gathered group of 5 or 6 of my fellow intentional-community cohorts: “This,” I said, “is why I am a Reform Jew.”
I now sit here typing away furiously on this box that halakhah prohibits me from using on Shabbat, feeling terrible about having uttered what must have sounded a horribly judgmental statement. I really and truly feel bad—it was unlike me to do something like that.
It’s not an excuse, but I know that whatever my ideal Shabbat looks like, it’s not in that discussion. I get turning the cholent on and then not doing any formal cooking on Shabbat—I actually really like to idea, and intend to try it when I get home. I get regretting that it was set on low, and bemoaning the fact that what should have been outstandingly tasty beans and potatoes will alas go to waste; this fits in with a religious ethic of letting go of some sense of control on Shabbat. What I don’t get in any way, shape, or form, is how luring in an unwitting baby into the kitchen, hoping (but not asking in any way) that the child might accidentally turn the pot up makes any sense at all. What I don’t accept as a part of my halakhah is how the concept of a Shabbes goy can be acceptable Jewish ethics. I admit that, early on in the conversation, I had half a mind to just go in and turn it up.
But if knew one thing, it was that I wasn’t going to be the Shabbes Reform Rabbi. I like intellectual discussions and debates as much as anyone. But to me, there’s a point where the discussion has to end. Either someone turn the pot up, or get out the cold (but yummy) pasta from last night. But if ritual practice in meant to lead to righteous living in the larger world, what are we teaching when we ask (in however veiled a way) our two year olds and our potential Jews by choice to do what we ourselves are unwilling to defile ourselves by doing?
Let Shabbat be a special time for honesty and straightforwardness in our dealings.
Let it be a time of simplicity rather than intense complexity.
Postscript:
When I returned to the moadon to apologize after hiding out, stewing, thinking, and writing for two hours, I found a few interesting things:
1) No one had actually been mad about my comment; some found it funny.
2) For a few people, the comment actually sparked curiosity about Reform Judaism, both in specific regard to this issue, and also more generally an interest in Reform Judaism in general
3)One Orthodox woman shocked me when she admitted quietly, "Yeah, I also was thinking what a ridiculous debate we were having!"
What a strange people we are...
Monday, June 21, 2010
The Kollel Begins
Happy Summer!
The Kollel finally began today, with 11 of us studying texts I had prepared from the tractate of the Talmud called Berachot, and it all went really well. There's a range of text ability here, and I am at the lower end of the spectrum, which made putting the texts together rather intimidating. We ended up having great conversations, though, about the blessings we are taught to say before we eat, and why we are instructed to say them. The Talmud gives many reasons as to why we are supposed to bless in this way, but the basic gist is that the food doesn't belong to us, even if we grew it--it belongs to God, and the way we redeem it from God is by saying a blessing. By blessing the food, we bring God into the world.
It was wonderful to finally begin this three week part of the journey; I was very nervous and tonight I'm feeling partial relief...
The study followed a great and hot morning of farming-- removing the suckers on tomato plants, planting purple peppers, and finally finishing the weeding of the kale in my plot.
My plot is turning over quickly; the beans are really done and will soon be plowed under; there are now four types of micro greens growing in the front of the plot, and more kale was planted where the spinach was. We're really transitioning from spring harvest to summer harvest-- there's actually a bit of a lull right now-- far less to harvest than there was in weeks past.
The Kollel finally began today, with 11 of us studying texts I had prepared from the tractate of the Talmud called Berachot, and it all went really well. There's a range of text ability here, and I am at the lower end of the spectrum, which made putting the texts together rather intimidating. We ended up having great conversations, though, about the blessings we are taught to say before we eat, and why we are instructed to say them. The Talmud gives many reasons as to why we are supposed to bless in this way, but the basic gist is that the food doesn't belong to us, even if we grew it--it belongs to God, and the way we redeem it from God is by saying a blessing. By blessing the food, we bring God into the world.
It was wonderful to finally begin this three week part of the journey; I was very nervous and tonight I'm feeling partial relief...
The study followed a great and hot morning of farming-- removing the suckers on tomato plants, planting purple peppers, and finally finishing the weeding of the kale in my plot.
My plot is turning over quickly; the beans are really done and will soon be plowed under; there are now four types of micro greens growing in the front of the plot, and more kale was planted where the spinach was. We're really transitioning from spring harvest to summer harvest-- there's actually a bit of a lull right now-- far less to harvest than there was in weeks past.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
The times, they are a-changin'...
Had a great Shabbat with the family-- it was so incredibly good to see them! We had a fantastic time at the farm-- services and dinner on Friday night, sleeping in and a great hike of the loop trail on Saturday, and a good time harvesting this morning and going into Baltimore for the great, if sweaty, Farmer's Market. The boys popped right up this morning and helped pick peas, which was so fun! Here's some pictures from that harvesting:
Aren't they handsome?
Tonight, we met with the five folks who have come for the Kollel for this week. The Kollel is actually why I"m officially here, now that I'm more than halfway through my time. The idea is that, starting tomorrow, we'll work in the field until noon, and then study Jewish text related to agriculture in the afternoon.
So far, the folks I've been living and working with have been the Fellows who are working both at Kayam and the adjacent JCC Day Camp, plus the paid staff of Kayam. Now, things are changing; these new, great folks have come in, and as of tomorrow, camp starts-- the fellows will mostly be there, and I'll mostly be with Kollel group, which will change week to week as some folks are here for much of the summer, and some are here as short as one week.
Each week we'll be studying a Jewish text related to agriculture; I'm "captaining" this first week, which is based on the Talmudic text called Brachot. It's been more than a little humbling to put together study materials for this group-- most of the other folks have been in yeshiva or at least have Jewish day school backgrounds. Hopefull the study materials I've assembled will serve as a valuable jumping off point for each chevruta's (learning pair) study.
I've not been so intimated in a long time; hopefully it will go well. This being way out of my league, too, is a different experience-- hopefully a good one!
Off to try to sleep before the big day!
Note-- I've just (finally) added some photos from the watershed pilgrimage to that posting-- check 'em out!
Aren't they handsome?
Tonight, we met with the five folks who have come for the Kollel for this week. The Kollel is actually why I"m officially here, now that I'm more than halfway through my time. The idea is that, starting tomorrow, we'll work in the field until noon, and then study Jewish text related to agriculture in the afternoon.
So far, the folks I've been living and working with have been the Fellows who are working both at Kayam and the adjacent JCC Day Camp, plus the paid staff of Kayam. Now, things are changing; these new, great folks have come in, and as of tomorrow, camp starts-- the fellows will mostly be there, and I'll mostly be with Kollel group, which will change week to week as some folks are here for much of the summer, and some are here as short as one week.
Each week we'll be studying a Jewish text related to agriculture; I'm "captaining" this first week, which is based on the Talmudic text called Brachot. It's been more than a little humbling to put together study materials for this group-- most of the other folks have been in yeshiva or at least have Jewish day school backgrounds. Hopefull the study materials I've assembled will serve as a valuable jumping off point for each chevruta's (learning pair) study.
I've not been so intimated in a long time; hopefully it will go well. This being way out of my league, too, is a different experience-- hopefully a good one!
Off to try to sleep before the big day!
Note-- I've just (finally) added some photos from the watershed pilgrimage to that posting-- check 'em out!
Friday, June 18, 2010
The Long Wait is Over
The day has arrived, ending the longest stretch of my time at the farm without seeing my family... Today is the day-- they'll arrive later for Shabbat, and I can't wait!
Two nights ago we spent the evening at the farmhouse where the staff of Kayam live, about 2 miles from Pearlstone. There's a hiking path through cornfields and forest, though we drove a country road that felt alot like Highway F in Wisconsin.
The farmhouse is actually owned by New York Times garden columnist Ann Raver, so you can only imagine how beautiful the home and the property are. She grew up in the farmhouse, which is charming and right out of the 1940's-- I half expected Dorothy and and Toto to come prancing out! A few years ago, Ann and her partner converted half of one of the huge barns on the property into this amazing lofted apartment where they now live.
Every bit of the property is thoughtfully planned out and elegant-- the ultimate garden tour-- but not fancy or showy. Here's a rosebush planted in the middle of the lettuce beds. Here are the horseradish plants she wrote about for her March 31, 2010 article on the subject. We were stunned at every turn as we picked wild mulberries and blackberries and black raspberries-- we feasted on them...
Ann is a good friend to Kayam, and a good supporter of their work; I'm now a fan of Ann and am reading all of her articles at the Times website; she;'ll definitely be another one of my new garden gurus!
Two nights ago we spent the evening at the farmhouse where the staff of Kayam live, about 2 miles from Pearlstone. There's a hiking path through cornfields and forest, though we drove a country road that felt alot like Highway F in Wisconsin.
Every bit of the property is thoughtfully planned out and elegant-- the ultimate garden tour-- but not fancy or showy. Here's a rosebush planted in the middle of the lettuce beds. Here are the horseradish plants she wrote about for her March 31, 2010 article on the subject. We were stunned at every turn as we picked wild mulberries and blackberries and black raspberries-- we feasted on them...
Ann is a good friend to Kayam, and a good supporter of their work; I'm now a fan of Ann and am reading all of her articles at the Times website; she;'ll definitely be another one of my new garden gurus!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
10 million fireflies...
I have never ever seen so many fireflies...
We just walked back in the dark from watching the first half of the Lakers-Celts NBA game 6 at Yakir and Netz's house, and there were more "flashbulbs" going off in the forest than there were at the Staples Center in LA! It's so incredibly beautiful and peaceful here-- can't wait to show Lys and the boys-- just 2 more days!
Okay, speaking of Elyssa-- dear-- I will never ever complain again about what a pain it is to weed the little garden we've got growing in our front yard. You graciously have done that work for years, never complaining. Well, I now have some perspective. Over the last 2 days, I have single-handedly weeded 500 tomato plants, and no, that's not an exaggeration. My favorite new gardening tool is an oscillating hoe:
Me and my hoe (also called a saddle hoe) have gotten to be good friends. (Hey, no jokes, please-- this is serious business!)
It was very rewarding work; it'd be even more rewarding if I didn't already know that by next week, there'll be weeds again, but, such is life...
Had an interesting talk with a forest ecologist today... He took us on a walk around the loop trail popinting out amazing things.
It seems that each expert we speak to makes the concept of sustainability so much more nuanced and complex... Kayam is doing great things with organic farming, but it still uses tons of water (instead of using water collected when it rains). It's doing incredible stuff with its production, but it's still not doing permaculture, instead relying on the basic style of farming used in most places in the country.
I am determined not to make the perfect the enemy of the good, as Voltaire wrote. Kayam is an amazing place, period, and it represents a growing community of folks concerned about sustainability. AND, I have many more questions to ask. Like everything else I learn in my life, I suppose, the more I know, the more I realize how much much more there is to learn...
We just walked back in the dark from watching the first half of the Lakers-Celts NBA game 6 at Yakir and Netz's house, and there were more "flashbulbs" going off in the forest than there were at the Staples Center in LA! It's so incredibly beautiful and peaceful here-- can't wait to show Lys and the boys-- just 2 more days!
Okay, speaking of Elyssa-- dear-- I will never ever complain again about what a pain it is to weed the little garden we've got growing in our front yard. You graciously have done that work for years, never complaining. Well, I now have some perspective. Over the last 2 days, I have single-handedly weeded 500 tomato plants, and no, that's not an exaggeration. My favorite new gardening tool is an oscillating hoe:
Me and my hoe (also called a saddle hoe) have gotten to be good friends. (Hey, no jokes, please-- this is serious business!)
It was very rewarding work; it'd be even more rewarding if I didn't already know that by next week, there'll be weeds again, but, such is life...
Had an interesting talk with a forest ecologist today... He took us on a walk around the loop trail popinting out amazing things.
It seems that each expert we speak to makes the concept of sustainability so much more nuanced and complex... Kayam is doing great things with organic farming, but it still uses tons of water (instead of using water collected when it rains). It's doing incredible stuff with its production, but it's still not doing permaculture, instead relying on the basic style of farming used in most places in the country.
I am determined not to make the perfect the enemy of the good, as Voltaire wrote. Kayam is an amazing place, period, and it represents a growing community of folks concerned about sustainability. AND, I have many more questions to ask. Like everything else I learn in my life, I suppose, the more I know, the more I realize how much much more there is to learn...
Monday, June 14, 2010
The New Moon
Kayam has a calendar garden, with (soon to be) twelve pie-piece-shaped beds arranged in a circle with a sundial in the middle. Each bed represents one of the Hebrew months, in addition to one of the 12 tribes of Israel. Yesterday was the new moon of Tammuz, represented by the tribe of Reuven. In honor of Tammuz, a month that the mystical tradition associates with trial and testing, we planted spicy hot "fish" peppers.
Then tonight was the first clear night in awhile, and we went out with my telescope and looked at the sliver of the new moon with the rest of the moon ever-so-gently lit with earthshine. It was a great way to close the bookend of the day in which we marked the new moon.
The tribe of Reuven is associated with "seeing," and so we challenged ourselves today to really attempt to see and pay attention to what is around us, where we are, and also to where we'd like to be, what we'd like to work on, during our time here. I shared with the group my desire to be more reflective about my experience in life generally, and certainly during this unique experience. I'm not totally sure that I can reflect on it fully while I'm in it, but I am going to try to stop and "smell the basil!"
Happy Rosh Chodesh Tammuz!
Then tonight was the first clear night in awhile, and we went out with my telescope and looked at the sliver of the new moon with the rest of the moon ever-so-gently lit with earthshine. It was a great way to close the bookend of the day in which we marked the new moon.
The tribe of Reuven is associated with "seeing," and so we challenged ourselves today to really attempt to see and pay attention to what is around us, where we are, and also to where we'd like to be, what we'd like to work on, during our time here. I shared with the group my desire to be more reflective about my experience in life generally, and certainly during this unique experience. I'm not totally sure that I can reflect on it fully while I'm in it, but I am going to try to stop and "smell the basil!"
Happy Rosh Chodesh Tammuz!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Would You Like Kale with That? or, the Suggestive Sell at a Farmer's Market
Had the privilege of staffing the local JCC Farmer's Market today with Alex. Heard I missed a rousing time at the first Ramsey Farmer's Market!
It was a neat experience, even though the "traffic" was pretty slow. It is a market that Kayam started about three years ago, and it's slowly growing. We sold about $275 worth of lettuce, kale, spring onions, sugar snap peas, strawberries, garlic scapes, mustard greens, beets, pac-choi, and turnips-- not too shabby. It was great chatting with people-- a few people knew exactly what they wanted and what to do with the stuff; many others had questions, were unfamiliar with some of the items and how to prepare them, and were even open to the kind of "suggestive sell" I learned way back in my McDonald's night shift days in Madison, WI.
Over the four hours of the market, we experimented with different ways to display the goods, propping bins up on an angle, pre-packaging some greens while leaving the rest for people to see/pick on their own (we think folks liked seeing the stuff loose but almost all preferred to let us actually bag it up. Interesting.). We decided that for next week, we're going to try to make some laminated signs for each thing that would give folks an idea of how to use it/prepare it. Should be interesting to see if that helps at all.
We'll be donating the rest to a local food pantry, which is cool-- our own version of "leaving the corners of our fields." The mishnah suggests actually leaving stuff in the field and letting the poor come and harvest it on their own; not quite sure how or if that could work practically on this land.
It was a neat experience, even though the "traffic" was pretty slow. It is a market that Kayam started about three years ago, and it's slowly growing. We sold about $275 worth of lettuce, kale, spring onions, sugar snap peas, strawberries, garlic scapes, mustard greens, beets, pac-choi, and turnips-- not too shabby. It was great chatting with people-- a few people knew exactly what they wanted and what to do with the stuff; many others had questions, were unfamiliar with some of the items and how to prepare them, and were even open to the kind of "suggestive sell" I learned way back in my McDonald's night shift days in Madison, WI.
Over the four hours of the market, we experimented with different ways to display the goods, propping bins up on an angle, pre-packaging some greens while leaving the rest for people to see/pick on their own (we think folks liked seeing the stuff loose but almost all preferred to let us actually bag it up. Interesting.). We decided that for next week, we're going to try to make some laminated signs for each thing that would give folks an idea of how to use it/prepare it. Should be interesting to see if that helps at all.
We'll be donating the rest to a local food pantry, which is cool-- our own version of "leaving the corners of our fields." The mishnah suggests actually leaving stuff in the field and letting the poor come and harvest it on their own; not quite sure how or if that could work practically on this land.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Shabbat Shalom or, a new appreciation for the 39 malachot
After a week like this, I can imagine how our ancestors came up with the categories of work that are forbidden on Shabbat. The categories, as listed below, seem arcane to most of us on a day to day basis, because they almost all have to do with farming in one way or another. The rabbis of our tradition have extrapolated from this list to discern all the prohibitions we associate with Shabbat. I have to say that, living in the more basic way that I have been, doing (seemingly) simpler tasks, I appreciate the traditional list much more than I usually do.
Here is a list of those categories with an "X" next to the ones I am aware of doing this week, and a "Y" next to ones I do in a typical week in Oakland, NJ:
1. Sowing--X
2. Plowing--X
3. Reaping--X
4. Binding Sheaves--X
5. Threshing--X
6. Winnowing
7. Selecting--X, Y
8. Grinding
9. Sifting--X
10. Kneading--Y
11. Baking--Y
12. Shearing
13. Bleaching
14. Hackling
15. Dyeing
16. Spinning-X
17. Stretching the threads
18. The making of two meshes
19. Weaving two threads
20. Dividing two threads
21. Tying a knot--X, Y
22. Untying a knot--X,Y
23. Sewing two stitches
24. Tearing in order to sew two stitches
25. Capturing (an animal)
26. Slaughtering
27. Flaying
28. Salting
29. Curing hide
30. Scraping
31. Cutting--X, Y
32. Writing two letters--X,Y
33. Erasing in order to write two letters--X, Y
34. Building--X
35. Demolishing--X
36. Extinguishing fire--X, Y
37. Kindling fire--X, Y
38. Striking with a hammer (i.e. giving something its final touch)--X
39. Carrying (in a public domain, or from a private domain to a public domain, and vice versa)--X, Y
I think I've done 19 of these things this week, and I can say with certainty that I am ready to NOT do them again until (at least) sundown tomorrow night-- I'm exhausted. I can only identify 11 that I do in a typical non-sabbatical week. How about you?
Here is a list of those categories with an "X" next to the ones I am aware of doing this week, and a "Y" next to ones I do in a typical week in Oakland, NJ:
1. Sowing--X
2. Plowing--X
3. Reaping--X
4. Binding Sheaves--X
5. Threshing--X
6. Winnowing
7. Selecting--X, Y
8. Grinding
9. Sifting--X
10. Kneading--Y
11. Baking--Y
12. Shearing
13. Bleaching
14. Hackling
15. Dyeing
16. Spinning-X
17. Stretching the threads
18. The making of two meshes
19. Weaving two threads
20. Dividing two threads
21. Tying a knot--X, Y
22. Untying a knot--X,Y
23. Sewing two stitches
24. Tearing in order to sew two stitches
25. Capturing (an animal)
26. Slaughtering
27. Flaying
28. Salting
29. Curing hide
30. Scraping
31. Cutting--X, Y
32. Writing two letters--X,Y
33. Erasing in order to write two letters--X, Y
34. Building--X
35. Demolishing--X
36. Extinguishing fire--X, Y
37. Kindling fire--X, Y
38. Striking with a hammer (i.e. giving something its final touch)--X
39. Carrying (in a public domain, or from a private domain to a public domain, and vice versa)--X, Y
I think I've done 19 of these things this week, and I can say with certainty that I am ready to NOT do them again until (at least) sundown tomorrow night-- I'm exhausted. I can only identify 11 that I do in a typical non-sabbatical week. How about you?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
What it feels like to know the farm
It's only been 11 days, and three of those were on the pilgrimage, but I thpink we're all beginning to feel like we know the farm better and better. We know where things are, more or less; we know how to harvest everything when we need to; we know how to prep it for the CSA and for the farmers market.
We know how to seed, pot up, plant, and weed without further instruction. Pretty amazing!
Now it's time that we can pay closer attention to the plants themselves-- get to know what is plant and what is weed-- get to know what weeds grow around what plants. We're getting to know the various bugs that are attracted to each plant, and which ones are beneficial and which ones are pests.
Today was dry and warm-- a nice change from rainy cool yesterday, and it felt like the farm really came alive after some much needed precipitation.
We're definitely all looking forward to Shabbat; I'll be spending time in D.C. with my cousin Debbie, which should be so much fun, and then Sunday morning, I'm taking my turn to staff the Farmer's Masrket with Alex; we'll see how good a salesman I am!
Off to bed, good an tired...
We know how to seed, pot up, plant, and weed without further instruction. Pretty amazing!
Now it's time that we can pay closer attention to the plants themselves-- get to know what is plant and what is weed-- get to know what weeds grow around what plants. We're getting to know the various bugs that are attracted to each plant, and which ones are beneficial and which ones are pests.
Today was dry and warm-- a nice change from rainy cool yesterday, and it felt like the farm really came alive after some much needed precipitation.
We're definitely all looking forward to Shabbat; I'll be spending time in D.C. with my cousin Debbie, which should be so much fun, and then Sunday morning, I'm taking my turn to staff the Farmer's Masrket with Alex; we'll see how good a salesman I am!
Off to bed, good an tired...
Beard
I'm growing a beard for the first time in my life... some have asked to see pictures, so here we go!
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Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Tea with Bashir
Today I felt like a real farmer.
We began the day weeding and thinning four long rows of carrots--strange to have to remove so many growing carrots so that the whole rest of the bed can thrive; we then moved on to planting a bed of lettuce, which felt like a nice juxtaposition to the "plantacide" we'd been committing! Just then, it began to rain in earnest for the first time since I arrived here some 10 days ago.
While a few people stayed in the greenhouse to work, two other folks and I headed out the new field in our rain gear to plant eggplant and serrano peppers. In a little over an hour, we planted about 130 plants in the pouring rain. At a certain point of wetness, you're just wet, and more rain can't make you wetter. We hit that point about 15 minutes in, and it honestly felt great. By the end, my jeans were caked from top to bottom in mud (not sure quite how to clean them!), and my hands were just mud pies. I felt like a kid again, only this time, I was SUPPOSED to play in the mud! We got the work done, and returned to camp to dry out and wolf down some lunch.
This afternoon we mostly spent in the greenhouse "potting up" tiny basil and tomato plants which were started about a month ago from seed and were ready to be put into slightly larger containers. Soon, they, too, will be ready for the field. We also started some more tomatoes and squash from seed in tiny little plastic holders, and placed them under a heat light to accelerate their growth. Finally, I harvested some lettuce, garlic scapes, green onions, sugar snap peas, and strawberries for Bashir, as promised. So we really experienced the whole planting cycle today, from seed to small plant, from medium plant to the ground, from thinning the ground to harvest-- a pretty awesome day!
The day ended with a trip first to the bike shop and then to Bashir's house-- so hard to believe that that was just 6 days ago! He greeted me warmly; we exchanged bikes and I gave him the produce; we shared some tea and warm wishes, and I was on my way. I had decided not to tell him about the blown tire; my friends here suggested I could tell him about the tune-up, but it just never came up, and I didn't want to boast about it. Curious what y'all think about that decision...
A good, damp day... Supposed to be dry tomorrow. I'm off to figure out out to wash my clothes...
Lailah tov!
We began the day weeding and thinning four long rows of carrots--strange to have to remove so many growing carrots so that the whole rest of the bed can thrive; we then moved on to planting a bed of lettuce, which felt like a nice juxtaposition to the "plantacide" we'd been committing! Just then, it began to rain in earnest for the first time since I arrived here some 10 days ago.
While a few people stayed in the greenhouse to work, two other folks and I headed out the new field in our rain gear to plant eggplant and serrano peppers. In a little over an hour, we planted about 130 plants in the pouring rain. At a certain point of wetness, you're just wet, and more rain can't make you wetter. We hit that point about 15 minutes in, and it honestly felt great. By the end, my jeans were caked from top to bottom in mud (not sure quite how to clean them!), and my hands were just mud pies. I felt like a kid again, only this time, I was SUPPOSED to play in the mud! We got the work done, and returned to camp to dry out and wolf down some lunch.
This afternoon we mostly spent in the greenhouse "potting up" tiny basil and tomato plants which were started about a month ago from seed and were ready to be put into slightly larger containers. Soon, they, too, will be ready for the field. We also started some more tomatoes and squash from seed in tiny little plastic holders, and placed them under a heat light to accelerate their growth. Finally, I harvested some lettuce, garlic scapes, green onions, sugar snap peas, and strawberries for Bashir, as promised. So we really experienced the whole planting cycle today, from seed to small plant, from medium plant to the ground, from thinning the ground to harvest-- a pretty awesome day!
The day ended with a trip first to the bike shop and then to Bashir's house-- so hard to believe that that was just 6 days ago! He greeted me warmly; we exchanged bikes and I gave him the produce; we shared some tea and warm wishes, and I was on my way. I had decided not to tell him about the blown tire; my friends here suggested I could tell him about the tune-up, but it just never came up, and I didn't want to boast about it. Curious what y'all think about that decision...
A good, damp day... Supposed to be dry tomorrow. I'm off to figure out out to wash my clothes...
Lailah tov!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Call me "The Salad Spinner"
I've decided that that is going to be my professional wrestling name, should I decide to pursue that endeavor as a career. I have spun approximately 45 pounds of lettuce in the past 9 days; I think I've earned the title!
Today I had the privilege of watering the entire new field by with a hose-- 500 tomato plants, and a similar number of squash and melon plants. It was pretty amazing, actually; Sonia and I made a good team moving the hose across 5 fields, each 200 yards or more long. Then when we returned to the greenhouse, I got to water all the plants there.
I'm always amazed by the softness of a baby's feet-- uncalloused and smooth. My feet, on the other hand, are lumpy and bumpy and calloused-- no fun at all. But lest I think my feet are hard as a rock, another strange bit of perspective I gained today: I still have the feet of a baby.
Many of the folks who work on the farm have a habit of walking barefoot all over the place. This skill also came in handy on the pilgrimage, when we walked through streams and those same folks could simply take their shoes off and walk across the rocky stream bed; when I tried that then, I ended up walking like a gorilla with my hands on the ground because the rocks hurt my feet so much.
I decided that today was the day I was going to get my "farm feet" going. We were mulching tomato plants with hay, and I joined some others in taking my shoes and socks off. It was glorious to walk through the rich and soft soil as we lay the bales of hay out bit by bit to keep the weeds away. And walking through the grass was wonderful, too. But the wood chips, the rocks, the hot cement in the greenhouse-- oy, vey! Dan (my tent mate) and others are walking around like its nothing, and my feet feel like I'm walking on hot coals!
Just when I began to feel hopeless, I asked Dan how long it took before his feet stopped hurting. "Actually, they still do, sometimes," he said. "It's mostly a mental thing, getting used to the idea not everything you walk on will be smooth." Well, then.
Tomorrow, "The Salad Spinner" begins his mental preparations to walk on hot coals!
Today I had the privilege of watering the entire new field by with a hose-- 500 tomato plants, and a similar number of squash and melon plants. It was pretty amazing, actually; Sonia and I made a good team moving the hose across 5 fields, each 200 yards or more long. Then when we returned to the greenhouse, I got to water all the plants there.
I'm always amazed by the softness of a baby's feet-- uncalloused and smooth. My feet, on the other hand, are lumpy and bumpy and calloused-- no fun at all. But lest I think my feet are hard as a rock, another strange bit of perspective I gained today: I still have the feet of a baby.
Many of the folks who work on the farm have a habit of walking barefoot all over the place. This skill also came in handy on the pilgrimage, when we walked through streams and those same folks could simply take their shoes off and walk across the rocky stream bed; when I tried that then, I ended up walking like a gorilla with my hands on the ground because the rocks hurt my feet so much.
I decided that today was the day I was going to get my "farm feet" going. We were mulching tomato plants with hay, and I joined some others in taking my shoes and socks off. It was glorious to walk through the rich and soft soil as we lay the bales of hay out bit by bit to keep the weeds away. And walking through the grass was wonderful, too. But the wood chips, the rocks, the hot cement in the greenhouse-- oy, vey! Dan (my tent mate) and others are walking around like its nothing, and my feet feel like I'm walking on hot coals!
Just when I began to feel hopeless, I asked Dan how long it took before his feet stopped hurting. "Actually, they still do, sometimes," he said. "It's mostly a mental thing, getting used to the idea not everything you walk on will be smooth." Well, then.
Tomorrow, "The Salad Spinner" begins his mental preparations to walk on hot coals!
Monday, June 7, 2010
Day 8--A Plot of My Own
Today was the first "normal schedule" day-- 6:30 meditation/study, 7- 9 a.m. work in the field, 9 a.m. breakfast, 10 a.m to 1 p.m. in the field, 1-3 lunch and siesta, 3-4 meeting with various farm professionals to learn about the trade, and 4-6 back in the field-- I am totally exhausted!
We picked out our own plots on the farm today to pay special attention to, and I drew plot 2, also known as Exodus. Appropriate for a sabbatical journey, I suppose! The plot has chard, kale, spinach, sugar snap peas, carrots, and lettuce, for now. I spent much of the day weeding in the pea patch, which was quite difficult but rewarding work-- it was nice to see the beginning, middle, and end of a project.
I got to operate the roto-tiller today, which was amazingly cool. I'm frankly not sure whether I was operating it, or it was operating me-- it's a big, powerful machine!
I felt almost immediately proprietary towards the plot-- work time ended at 6 p.m., but I stayed till 6:30 to uncover the kale and to begin to weed it. I look forward to seeing what will happen in the next few weeks to the plot...
We picked out our own plots on the farm today to pay special attention to, and I drew plot 2, also known as Exodus. Appropriate for a sabbatical journey, I suppose! The plot has chard, kale, spinach, sugar snap peas, carrots, and lettuce, for now. I spent much of the day weeding in the pea patch, which was quite difficult but rewarding work-- it was nice to see the beginning, middle, and end of a project.
I got to operate the roto-tiller today, which was amazingly cool. I'm frankly not sure whether I was operating it, or it was operating me-- it's a big, powerful machine!
I felt almost immediately proprietary towards the plot-- work time ended at 6 p.m., but I stayed till 6:30 to uncover the kale and to begin to weed it. I look forward to seeing what will happen in the next few weeks to the plot...
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Bashir's Bike, or The Keystone Cops Strike Again
On the third day of the pilgrimage, we broke camp at Roy's farm, an amazing educational farm started by one of Jakir's buddies, and headed out on a 15 mile bike ride that would triumphantly end our journey in Baltimore's Inner Harbor.
About five miles into the trek, we hit a patch of glass on the road, and my front tire and the back tire of the bike (riden by Carly) behind me blew. The whole group pulled over, and we began to assess the situation in the 95-degree heat. What was immediately evident was how unprepared we were for the problems we faced. We had a bike repair kit to patch holes, but no bike pump with which to refill the tires, and no replacement tubes if they were beyond repair. Tiferet, one of the Kayam staff members, began to go door to door in the neighborhood looking for a pump, while another staffer headed back to the farm where we had left a pump with the rest of our gear that was to be transported for us back to Pearlstone.
Tiferet soon found a guy named Bashir who had a pump and generously offered for us to use it. Meanwhile, another guy on our trip named Alex-- an expert hydrologist who was along to teach us about the watershed-- got to work dissembling our two busted bike wheels. Tiferet and Bashir camp back with the pump, which it turns out, wouldn't work on Carly's patched tire because the tire had a funky fancy valve. Meanwhile, the pump would have worked on my tire but we could not could not could not find the hole in my tire no matter what we did! And meanwhile the rest of the group was growing impatient and we had an appointment at the Science Museum and a reservation at a cool restaurant named Liquid Earth and another appointment to sail in the Chesapeake Bay to top off the day. And meanwhile, Alex was coming back with a pump we knew would at least fill Carly's tire.
So the rest of the group headed off. And just as they did, a random car pulled up, and out jumped a guy we learned was named Jimmy. Jimmy hopped out of the car and immediately went his trunk with a purpose-- he understood at least part of our predicament right away. He pulled a fancy-shmancy bike pump out of his trunk, and got to work on Carly's tire.
Meanwhile, Carly has gotten into a deep one-to-one conversation with Bashir, who had decided to just hang around and watch the proceedings.We later learned that Bashir is a refugee from Afghanistan; he left after the war broke out in 2002.
Jimmy fixed Carly's tire and puts it back on her bike. He saw me struggling with my tire, and offered to help, but he couldn't find the hole, either. Perhaps it's a slow leak, we wishfully said together. Alex arrived with the group pump just as Jimmy and I were reassembling my tire, hoping against hope that if we refilled it with air, it would hold for a few miles, and we could just keep refilling it. But no sooner do we fill it than it's flat again. Jimmy throws his hands up, just as Bashir says, "would you like to borrow my bike?" I look at Carly, Carly looks at Alex, Alex looks at Jimmy, Jimmy looks at me, as if to say, "is he serious?"
"I'm serious," says Bashir. "I don't need it for a bit-- take it, and I'll hold onto your bike. You can return it when you can."
We're stunned at the kind offer, and, having no other good options, we agree, promising to return the bike with a large share of local, organic vegetables. Bashir brings his bike across the street; he hasn't used it since last fall, so the tires are low on air. We refill the tires, thank Jimmy profusely as he heads out in his car, thank Bashir profusely, exchange contact information with him, and jump on our bikes. An amazing affirmation of my belief that most people, given the opportunity, will do the right thing most of the time.
If only the story ended there.
We ride fast, mostly downhill, intending to catch up with the group. Not 2 miles down the road, I hear a BANG. "Oh, no, oh, no oh no!" I cry. The back tire of Bashir's bike had blown out! This time, there appeared to be no glass on the road, nothing that should have made the tire explode. The three of us got off our bikes laughing so hard we were crying...
An already long story short, we decided that God was trying to send me some kind of message; we sent Alex off with the pump to catch up with the group (in case someone ELSE blew a tire!), and Carly and I caught a bus downtown (an experience in and of itself-- I now know how to operate those funky bike racks on the front of city buses!) and met up with the group at the end of their ride.
I missed not being able to ride the whole trail-- everyone said it was beautiful, and perhaps I'll have a chance to ride it again some other time this summer. But it was Carly who really inspired me to see the blessing in all of the mess-- it was the moment when the tires blew, when the wheels fell off, as it were. that the genuine adventure began. It was the moment when we got to meet real neighborhood people who saw nothing except folks who needed a hand, a pump, some help-- and were willing to give the bike off their own lot.
Postscript: Everyone asked if we walked back to return the bike to Bashir when the wheel blew--we didn't. I just couldn't bring myself to bring back his generous gift in worse shape than when we got it... Joe's Bike Shop in Baltimore is giving Bashir's bike a full tune-up in addition to replacing the tire before I bring it back to him Wednesday or Thursday this week; perhaps I'll have more to report after that reunion!
About five miles into the trek, we hit a patch of glass on the road, and my front tire and the back tire of the bike (riden by Carly) behind me blew. The whole group pulled over, and we began to assess the situation in the 95-degree heat. What was immediately evident was how unprepared we were for the problems we faced. We had a bike repair kit to patch holes, but no bike pump with which to refill the tires, and no replacement tubes if they were beyond repair. Tiferet, one of the Kayam staff members, began to go door to door in the neighborhood looking for a pump, while another staffer headed back to the farm where we had left a pump with the rest of our gear that was to be transported for us back to Pearlstone.
Tiferet soon found a guy named Bashir who had a pump and generously offered for us to use it. Meanwhile, another guy on our trip named Alex-- an expert hydrologist who was along to teach us about the watershed-- got to work dissembling our two busted bike wheels. Tiferet and Bashir camp back with the pump, which it turns out, wouldn't work on Carly's patched tire because the tire had a funky fancy valve. Meanwhile, the pump would have worked on my tire but we could not could not could not find the hole in my tire no matter what we did! And meanwhile the rest of the group was growing impatient and we had an appointment at the Science Museum and a reservation at a cool restaurant named Liquid Earth and another appointment to sail in the Chesapeake Bay to top off the day. And meanwhile, Alex was coming back with a pump we knew would at least fill Carly's tire.
So the rest of the group headed off. And just as they did, a random car pulled up, and out jumped a guy we learned was named Jimmy. Jimmy hopped out of the car and immediately went his trunk with a purpose-- he understood at least part of our predicament right away. He pulled a fancy-shmancy bike pump out of his trunk, and got to work on Carly's tire.
Meanwhile, Carly has gotten into a deep one-to-one conversation with Bashir, who had decided to just hang around and watch the proceedings.We later learned that Bashir is a refugee from Afghanistan; he left after the war broke out in 2002.
Jimmy fixed Carly's tire and puts it back on her bike. He saw me struggling with my tire, and offered to help, but he couldn't find the hole, either. Perhaps it's a slow leak, we wishfully said together. Alex arrived with the group pump just as Jimmy and I were reassembling my tire, hoping against hope that if we refilled it with air, it would hold for a few miles, and we could just keep refilling it. But no sooner do we fill it than it's flat again. Jimmy throws his hands up, just as Bashir says, "would you like to borrow my bike?" I look at Carly, Carly looks at Alex, Alex looks at Jimmy, Jimmy looks at me, as if to say, "is he serious?"
"I'm serious," says Bashir. "I don't need it for a bit-- take it, and I'll hold onto your bike. You can return it when you can."
We're stunned at the kind offer, and, having no other good options, we agree, promising to return the bike with a large share of local, organic vegetables. Bashir brings his bike across the street; he hasn't used it since last fall, so the tires are low on air. We refill the tires, thank Jimmy profusely as he heads out in his car, thank Bashir profusely, exchange contact information with him, and jump on our bikes. An amazing affirmation of my belief that most people, given the opportunity, will do the right thing most of the time.
If only the story ended there.
We ride fast, mostly downhill, intending to catch up with the group. Not 2 miles down the road, I hear a BANG. "Oh, no, oh, no oh no!" I cry. The back tire of Bashir's bike had blown out! This time, there appeared to be no glass on the road, nothing that should have made the tire explode. The three of us got off our bikes laughing so hard we were crying...
An already long story short, we decided that God was trying to send me some kind of message; we sent Alex off with the pump to catch up with the group (in case someone ELSE blew a tire!), and Carly and I caught a bus downtown (an experience in and of itself-- I now know how to operate those funky bike racks on the front of city buses!) and met up with the group at the end of their ride.
I missed not being able to ride the whole trail-- everyone said it was beautiful, and perhaps I'll have a chance to ride it again some other time this summer. But it was Carly who really inspired me to see the blessing in all of the mess-- it was the moment when the tires blew, when the wheels fell off, as it were. that the genuine adventure began. It was the moment when we got to meet real neighborhood people who saw nothing except folks who needed a hand, a pump, some help-- and were willing to give the bike off their own lot.
Postscript: Everyone asked if we walked back to return the bike to Bashir when the wheel blew--we didn't. I just couldn't bring myself to bring back his generous gift in worse shape than when we got it... Joe's Bike Shop in Baltimore is giving Bashir's bike a full tune-up in addition to replacing the tire before I bring it back to him Wednesday or Thursday this week; perhaps I'll have more to report after that reunion!
Day 6: A Shabbat Like No Other
What a beautiful day Shabbat was; almost no technology, no obligations, no watch-- just quiet, nature, listening to my body, and hours of open conversation with a great mix of folks. If only I could have shared the day with my beautiful family who I miss so much... it would have been a fuller taste of heaven.
Friday night after a long pre-Shabbat song session and a so-so prayer experience, a few of us went out into a field to view a far-off lightening storm. It was the kind of night that looked totally overcast, but when the lightening lit up the horizon, we could see the layers of clouds for a flash of a moment. Complimenting that beautiful view above the horizon, below was the farm, lit up intermittently with thousands of blinking lightening bugs-- a stunning combination we watched for nearly an hour.
I slept what felt like late, ate some cereal in silence (most others must still have been asleep!), and went for a walk on the 2.2 mile Loop Trail that circumnavigates the Pearlstone center and the adjacent JCC camp. I spent a good two hours slowly making my way around this beautiful trail; it hugs the edges of the fields and buildings, but briliantly makes you feel as if you're in the middle of nowhere. Never more than 100 yards from the "settled" property, one rarely sees formal signs of civilization. Pretty cool. Occasional signage to spark reflection (if one is alone) or conversation about nature and our affect on it. A huge downed tree leaves the sky cut open of foliage as well; the space is called "the open classroom" and was a great place to sit and read and listen to the birds and the stream running behind that beautiful space. I saw a box turtle and a baby deer and countless species of insect and bird. Towards the end of the trail is the low ropes course used by the JCC camp-- hoping to share some of those bits with Lys and the boys when they come.
I focused my energy on being in the moment. I napped when I was sleepy, I ate when I was hungry. I sat with a few folks intending to eat lunch, and four hours later I finally excused myself after long and beautiful discussions about loss, emotion, parashat Shelach Lecha, and who-knows-what else. After a snack and a shluf, I returned to the table for another long conversation about mechitza and the pros and cons of gender-divided study and prayer.
By that time, it was nearly time for havdallah and a rocking song session. So many talented musicians here-- there a far more instruments than people, which is kind of funny. We're going to sing our way through the summer...
Someone asked me late yesterday how different this was than Shabbat back home; it could hardly have been more different. I miss my family and miss my prayer community for sure; not sure I'll get what I need in the prayer department with this diverse chevreh, but I'll do what I need to do for myself while learning a lot from others about their spiritual practice. Last night I was wondering what elements, what flavors, what spices of this Shabbat I might be able to claim for myself, my family, and my community back home. I'm not clear at all yet; glad I have 3 or 4 more opportunities to think about that one. All I know is, I want more of the same, as much as I can. It was good.
Friday night after a long pre-Shabbat song session and a so-so prayer experience, a few of us went out into a field to view a far-off lightening storm. It was the kind of night that looked totally overcast, but when the lightening lit up the horizon, we could see the layers of clouds for a flash of a moment. Complimenting that beautiful view above the horizon, below was the farm, lit up intermittently with thousands of blinking lightening bugs-- a stunning combination we watched for nearly an hour.
I slept what felt like late, ate some cereal in silence (most others must still have been asleep!), and went for a walk on the 2.2 mile Loop Trail that circumnavigates the Pearlstone center and the adjacent JCC camp. I spent a good two hours slowly making my way around this beautiful trail; it hugs the edges of the fields and buildings, but briliantly makes you feel as if you're in the middle of nowhere. Never more than 100 yards from the "settled" property, one rarely sees formal signs of civilization. Pretty cool. Occasional signage to spark reflection (if one is alone) or conversation about nature and our affect on it. A huge downed tree leaves the sky cut open of foliage as well; the space is called "the open classroom" and was a great place to sit and read and listen to the birds and the stream running behind that beautiful space. I saw a box turtle and a baby deer and countless species of insect and bird. Towards the end of the trail is the low ropes course used by the JCC camp-- hoping to share some of those bits with Lys and the boys when they come.
I focused my energy on being in the moment. I napped when I was sleepy, I ate when I was hungry. I sat with a few folks intending to eat lunch, and four hours later I finally excused myself after long and beautiful discussions about loss, emotion, parashat Shelach Lecha, and who-knows-what else. After a snack and a shluf, I returned to the table for another long conversation about mechitza and the pros and cons of gender-divided study and prayer.
By that time, it was nearly time for havdallah and a rocking song session. So many talented musicians here-- there a far more instruments than people, which is kind of funny. We're going to sing our way through the summer...
Someone asked me late yesterday how different this was than Shabbat back home; it could hardly have been more different. I miss my family and miss my prayer community for sure; not sure I'll get what I need in the prayer department with this diverse chevreh, but I'll do what I need to do for myself while learning a lot from others about their spiritual practice. Last night I was wondering what elements, what flavors, what spices of this Shabbat I might be able to claim for myself, my family, and my community back home. I'm not clear at all yet; glad I have 3 or 4 more opportunities to think about that one. All I know is, I want more of the same, as much as I can. It was good.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Days 3, 4, and 5: The Chesapeake Watershed Pilgrimage
What if I were the smelly person on the bus?
Wow. I really am 40, and I feel every bit of it.
What would it be like to jump off this cliff, swing on this rope swing, and fall 25 feet into that river?
How wonderful it is, and how much easier than I thought it would be, to let go and let God...
What if I decided that I wanted to swim under a rushing waterfall, just to see what's under there?
I wonder if God is trying to send me a sign with this--my second flat bicycle tire in a little over a mile?
These and many other wonderful and bizarre thoughts popped into my head over the past three days as we hiked 17 miles, canoed 8 miles, and biked 10 miles (well, almost biked-that story to come later) down this bit of the 7 state long Chesapeake Watershed. We ended today with a beautiful but rain-shortened sail on the Bay.
I am as tired as I can ever remember; I just took one of the longest showers of my life to wipe away least the first few layers of the grime I accumulated (a little less grime having had some of it washed away by a rushing waterfall and that 25 foot plunge into the river!); but I am so happy to have participated in this beautiful, extremely challenging journey. We went from dipping our water bottles into the river to refill them (so clean was the river upstream) to not being able to even swim in the bay the river empties into (so polluted is the bay). We visited two amazing organic farms, each started by buddies of Jakir. There are so many stories to tell, but right now, I must to bed. No rest for the weary-- 5 more hours of harvesting tomorrow beginning at 8 a.m... Shabbat is coming...
More tomorrow. For now, here are some pictures from the pilgrimage:
Wow. I really am 40, and I feel every bit of it.
What would it be like to jump off this cliff, swing on this rope swing, and fall 25 feet into that river?
How wonderful it is, and how much easier than I thought it would be, to let go and let God...
What if I decided that I wanted to swim under a rushing waterfall, just to see what's under there?
I wonder if God is trying to send me a sign with this--my second flat bicycle tire in a little over a mile?
These and many other wonderful and bizarre thoughts popped into my head over the past three days as we hiked 17 miles, canoed 8 miles, and biked 10 miles (well, almost biked-that story to come later) down this bit of the 7 state long Chesapeake Watershed. We ended today with a beautiful but rain-shortened sail on the Bay.
I am as tired as I can ever remember; I just took one of the longest showers of my life to wipe away least the first few layers of the grime I accumulated (a little less grime having had some of it washed away by a rushing waterfall and that 25 foot plunge into the river!); but I am so happy to have participated in this beautiful, extremely challenging journey. We went from dipping our water bottles into the river to refill them (so clean was the river upstream) to not being able to even swim in the bay the river empties into (so polluted is the bay). We visited two amazing organic farms, each started by buddies of Jakir. There are so many stories to tell, but right now, I must to bed. No rest for the weary-- 5 more hours of harvesting tomorrow beginning at 8 a.m... Shabbat is coming...
More tomorrow. For now, here are some pictures from the pilgrimage:
An amazing berry bush we couldn't quite reach, so Dan stood on Yakir's back and pulled the branch down so we could feast!
Morning haze over the campsite
Our sailing ship on the Chesapeake Bay--we made it!
Raising the sail
My poor but happy feet!
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