I Am the Luckiest Person in the World

Well, everyone, this is it. My last week in Washington is wrapping up, and I feel so many good emotions, I don't really know what to say.


For the past three months I feel like I've been living in a dream...working outside everyday on a farm, staying with a loving and supportive family, meeting beautiful people almost daily...the good energy has almost never stopped coming to me, and I'm trying my hardest not to forget it.

Last Sunday, my host family had a small party for me with family friends, pie, and sangria. It was a nice closure for me, and to my surprise they all had nice things to say about my impact on them, their kids, the community, etc. I gave them each a goodbye hug after a game of croquet in the spitting rain, and told them how much I've appreciated their support in the past few months.

As I watched from the front porch the last family trickle away like the tears on my cheek, I told Sylvia how I felt like I was the luckiest person in the world. She put her arm around me, smiled, and said, "You are."

I am the luckiest person in the world. And I would like to thank a few people for making me that one lucky person.

Thank you, Sylvia, for being my rock during my time here. I am so happy you cautiously opened your home up to an intern three months ago, because that enabled us to meet each other and have so many fun times and reflective conversations together. Thank you for encouraging me not to clear-cut my "forest" and embrace the person I am who everyone else might not want to see. I am very sad to be leaving you now, but it won't be forever; I have no doubt that we'll meet again.
And I've decided that in addition to being my soul mother, you are also now one of my favorite people.

Sylvia with our delicious pizza at the Farmer's Market

Thank you, Nicole, for being the best boss I'll probably ever have. You've made me feel so comfortable working not only for you, but with you, right from the start. It's a wonderful feeling to get up everyday  to work with such a fantastic role-model and mentor. You've helped me discover things in myself that I had never seen before, and I've appreciated your constant openness to discussion during both difficult and successful times. You're a super rad chick, a true change agent, and don't you forget it!

Nicole taking a pause from flawlessly wrestling with building materials for a goat shelter

Thank you, Roland, for testing my patience every day. I picked up some quality negotiation tips from you, and loved going on walks with you as well as jumping on the trampoline together. I hope you continue to be sensitive to your experiences and express your emotions strongly. And keep up the awesome hugs, those were great.

Roland "holding the sun" on one of our walks together

Thank you, Ginger, for showing me how lucky I am to have such a supportive group of family and friends. You'll probably never read this, but in case you stumble upon it, I want to let you know that you've been an inspiration for me to not let other people stop me from prioritizing my health, my happiness, and my safety. You've made me think and reflect on the importance of our connections with each other and with the earth, and I am a much more conscious person because of it.

Ginger harvesting for our first CSA (Nicole took the picture, I snagged it off of her Facebook)

Thank you, Bernie, for making dinner almost every night and not looking at me like I'm crazy when I talk about, well, "crazy" stuff. Also, thanks for letting me borrow your car, your bike, your boots, for cooking fantastic gluten-free pancakes on the weekends, and making refreshing shakes in the mornings. I too have enjoyed our silent, spontaneous choreography across the kitchen on weekdays. No expectations for light conversation, just breakfast, lunch-making, and out the door.

Bernie trying to "bite" Sylvia as she goes in for a kiss...taken at Elevated Ice Cream in downtown PT

Thank you, Bo, for making the best pies I've ever tasted. Also thank you for bringing Midge over when you went away. Her unique spirit helped me learn that sometimes it's good to stop and smell the roses (or just stop and look at the person in front of me for a bit). And your gift in the cheese box touched my heart and made me cry.

Roland (being charming as always), Bernie, and Bo at the Rhody Parade.

Bo feeding the doggies in the kitchen (Midge on left, Winnie on right)

Thank you, Tim, for giving me a ride to Sunfield almost every day. And for introducing me to fairies, and raising three lovely children with Andrea (also a super awesome person, mom, and creative crafter). Maybe someday I can join you all at Fairy Congress.

Tim with his adorable daughter, Yemma

Thank you, Monica, for being a teaching inspiration and lovely person in general. That talk we had on the beach in Port Ludlow was really encouraging for me, and your journey to becoming a Spanish teacher and all the juggling that has come in between leaves me speechless. I don't know how you do it so flawlessly.

Monica and me laughing on the beach in Port Ludlow (she has a fantastic laugh, by the way)

And a GIANT thank you goes out to all of my family and friends back home in Ohio. I could go on forever listing all of your names and the incredible things you've done to support me during this journey, but I think you know who you are, and I'll see you soon enough to tell you of your phenomenal brilliance. I love you all so much and can't wait to see you soon.

As I was lying in the wet grass a few nights ago with Sylvia and Winnie, listening to the birds and trying to get "Build Me Up Buttercup" out of my head (I played it earlier that evening on Roland's ukulele, with Sylvia on guitar and Bernie on bass), I was thinking about how happy I am to be at this stage in my life. I don't know exactly where it is I'm going, but I know it's good. I'm looking forward to this next quarter at Antioch, and I'm definitely looking forward to having more misc"Elaine"ous experiences.

Goodbye Spring Co-op of 2013, goodbye beautiful people of Port Townsend, Washington and Sunfield Farm and Waldorf School. Thank you for EVERYTHING.

P.S. I made a video

Oot and Aboot in Canada, Aye?

A couple of weekends ago I finally got to see my dream country - Canada. It's got a little bit of English, a wee bit of French, a whole lotta free healthcare, a couple of "aye"s here and there, and who doesn't like some good 'ole maple syrup? Oh, and the Queen is on all of the currency in British Columbia (which is where I was), specifically Vancouver!

My super sweet awesome-sauce boss gave me Friday and Monday off so that I would have enough time to navigate transportation and take advantage of being so close to the wonderful land of Canada. I can almost smell the maple syrup from the bluff, with Victoria, Canada in sight right across the water (almost as clear as Sarah Palin can see Russia from her house). I  took my first ferry ride ever with Sylvia, Roland, and some family friends (all of whom were going to Seattle for a graduation ceremony). Sylvia took my picture posing as Rose from the Titanic from the front of the ferry. This was our process:

                            

After that shot, our captain alerted us to a pod of killer whales off to the right, and I got to see water coming out of their blowholes! It was - here comes the pun - KILLER!

Anyways, I took my first train ride ever (via Amtrak) all the way to the train station in Vancouver, where I met up with Norah, a friend from school who is staying in the area. We navigated the SkyTrain and various public transportations (sometimes unsuccessfully) to go to Stanley Park (one of the few green spaces in the city), walk through a kooky and overwhelming bookstore, skim through Chinatown, stumble upon a social justice café, and walk up Commercial Drive, where we ate Ethiopian food (which I now highly recommend, by the way). That evening we took about an hour-long SkyTrain ride to take a bus to Fort Langley, where Norah is staying with a family friend. The house was large and homey, with a hard-working mother and several teenage boys who played the piano almost as naturally as taking a breath. I went to sleep with tired feet and a warm bed.

 Feel the kook and overwhelm. It almost doesn't even look real...

Saturday was probably my favorite day of the weekend. We biked into downtown Fort Langley to volunteer in a community garden located in a public park near a school for the arts. The people already there were working on laying brick for a small patio to make a space for garden classes. The garden was immaculate. There were about 40 beds, each of them owned and maintained by a member of the Fort Langley community. The ground was neatly mulched and the beds were weed-free. We chatted and had some laughs with the other kids working on the project. Most of them were students in the garden club at the arts school. We learned how to level the ground before laying the bricks (I believe it's called "skreeting"), and then got to put in about quarter of the bricks in a random arrangement. It was fulfilling work and very inspiring. And they fed us lunch and snacks...gotta love them Canadians, aye?

Afterwards we walked around town and had some coffee and tea before heading back to the house for dinner, which was followed by a walk in the woods with the family dog - definitely my kind of day!

We came across some grazing horses on our walk with the doggie

Sunday, we both agreed, was a bit of a hazy blur, with much confusion figuring out bus timing and SkyTrain stations. We bussed through University of British Columbia's campus to get to the botanical gardens, where we realized we did not have enough time to buy tickets and walk around, since we were meeting Norah's friends in North Vancouver for dinner. But it was alright, we just looked at each other and shrugged with tired smiles, and then took the SeaBus over to the Lonsdale Quay Market for dinner. Her friends were very nice and the food (one of the girls and I had Greek, the others had Indian) was delicious. We then began our journey back to the house in a zombie-like state.

The next day, I started making my way back to Port Townsend at about 8 AM, and completed around 8 PM. Involved in my travels were the following types of transportation: walking, biking, training, bussing, ferrying, and carring (it's a new word, call me Shakespeare). Highlight of the day was getting off my four-hour bus ride to hang out at Pike Place Market in Seattle, where I ate a cup of crab meat and to-die-for gelato while talking to my mom on the phone.

Speaking of the phone, I noticed something that weekend which I was aware of before but not so in-tuned to think about very deeply - everyone, and I mean everyone on public transportation is plugged in. To their phones, iPods, newspapers, Kindles, and what-have-yous. It was interesting to just watch all of them, in another place other than where they were. I am, of course, a culprit of this activity from time to time. It's as if any spare second of doing nothing is forbidden to existence, and it must be occupied with some sort of distraction or the human attention span will explode from lack of something, lack of anything. The reason why I noticed this, ironically, was that I forgot my headphones at my host family's house. I picked up my book from time to time on the way back to Seattle, but I mostly was just intrigued with everyone's consumption around me. I think that just about did me in on my commute back into the States, and I was very happy to come back to open, green space and a breezy walk out to the bluff.

All in all, the weekend was very fun in an adventurous, I'm-still-learning kind of way. It was really nice to see a familiar face from Antioch and to get to talk a little bit about how we've felt about our jobs and the school quarter to come. And although spontaneous jaunts (such as the social justice café and Pike Place Market) are memorable gems in and of themselves, I'm definitely going to try to do some pre-planning before the next trip I go on by myself.

Hello Vancouver, British Columbia. Thank you for your quaint surprises and friendly people, aye?

My "Second" Co-op

Last Monday was the "one month left" marker for my co-op here in Port Townsend, Washington. I can't believe how fast the first two months have gone by, and the list of things I would still like to do is getting longer each day. Three months is a bit of a tricky time increment - there is just enough time for a little homesickness, and just enough time to develop good relationships with the fantastic people around me.

The people whom I've become particularly acquainted with are the members of the genuinely unique but familiar-feeling family I'm living with in the northern end of Port Townsend: Sylvia, Bernie, and Roland. As I've mentioned before, their house is nicely settled on a rural property that is connected to a view overlooking the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Living with them, I get a warm bed to sleep in, a home-cooked meal every evening, a bike (and sometimes a car) to borrow when I please, a ride to Sunfield everyday, and an open-minded family to spend time with at the end of a long day.

I do the dishes. And occasionally bake cookies or shortbread. Sound like a deal, or what?

Right from the start I knew I would enjoy staying with this family, not just because of the ample amenities, but also due to the fact that they seemed to have absolutely nothing to hide. Soon after arriving, they shamelessly allowed me to witness Roland pushing Sylvia's buttons with his persistent pestering, Sylvia throwing up her hands and rolling her eyes, and Bernie laughing to himself while shaking his head. It was such a natural and healthy interaction, I couldn't help but crack a smile.

Sylvia and I bonded quickly on conversations at the table and talkative walks with the dogs. I finally had an adult who was interested in my life experience, and she finally had a girl in the house who wasn't Winnie (the dog). Connecting with Sylvia opened the doors to stronger relationships with Bernie and Roland. Bernie will rib me and once "threatened" to make me sleep in the shed, and Roland will give me a hug when I need it and begs me to watch Doctor Who with him almost every day. The house is a good fit for me, and I feel very comfortable here.

But sometimes it's almost too comfortable.

I quickly assigned roles (as one does when far away from home) to the people of the house, and Roland filled the space in my mind as a temporary younger brother. We have fun together jumping on the trampoline outside or tickling each other on my bed. But sometimes I want to scream at Roland for asking me to play cards with him dozens of times while I'm eating breakfast, or sometimes I shoot one of my infamous glares across the dinner table if he demands I pass the salad rather than asking for it politely. It's a natural sibling back-and-forth relationship we have, and Sylvia and Bernie seem to be okay with it.

One time during Thursday Music Night there was a miscommunication about whether or not Roland could have dessert before the adults were finished playing, and it ended with him pushing me aside to storm off to his room. Sylvia came to talk to me afterwards and said, "I don't know how you would like me to talk to you right now - like Roland's older sister or a houseguest?" I asked her what the difference would be. She replied, "I really don't know."

And that's something I've been thinking much about lately, trying to figure out where my "place" is in this house.

I've settled in to treating Roland as a sibling, but only in his relation to me and not to others. For example, I am not tolerant of his common nonchalant, "Whatever" response, and I feel I am able to tell him how disrespectful I think it is and ask him not to say it to me. However, it would be a different story if I told him to stop saying it to his parents, because that's their decision in their relationship with him. I'm not in a position to teach him how to be respectful to other people, but I can draw the line for myself, as I should with anyone who is rude to me.

Nicole jokes that living with Sylvia, Bernie, and Roland is my "second co-op". And I have to agree, I'm learning just as much off of the farm with my new family as I am working with Nicole and other volunteers at Sunfield. Setting boundaries is something that I am working on even in my relationships back home, and living here is offering me an opportunity to practice just that.

Hello second co-op. Thank you for offering me a fantastic family and yet another experience to grow from.



More pictures:

An eggshell Sylvia found in the "hobo camp" near the house

Roland and me playing on the trampoline with Winnie

 Roland and Sylvia dancing in the kitchen

 Tomato house! Woo!

Last Friday Nicole (right), Ginger (left), and I built a shelter for the goats out in their new pasture

Gracie, Sunfield's new Angus-Jersey cow (9 months old)

Last Thursday I went on a hike up Mt. Walker with Roland's class. Sylvia and I walked slowly with a few kids separate from the rest of the group, and we collected these little leaf faces that the other classmates left along the path

Incredible view from the top of Mt. Walker 

Pink rhododendrons, lush fir trees, cloudy mountains, and water 

- all picturesque pieces of the Olympic Peninsula

Women Are Awesome

I am finally mustering up the motivation for another post, reason being I would like this one to be focused on a topic I love to talk about - WOMEN! Yeah, woohoo!

But seriously though, how awesome are women?

I've been wanting to write about women for awhile, and I figured what better way than to make a post on Mother's Day, a day to commend some women and their awesomeness (the day to celebrate all other  women's awesomeness is March 8, International Women's Day).

A few weeks ago I was helping clean out the large greenhouse on the farm to make room for the incoming tomatoes. Meanwhile, Nicole was maneuvering the tractor to make room in the compost area, and shouting over the motor to Blake (her boyfriend), Ginger (another intern), and me, instructions on what to do next to prepare the greenhouse. Moon, a wonderful eighth grader at Sunfield, came up to the tractor to ask Nicole a question about selling greens at the Friday Café (a food stand that the older kids put together to raise money), to which Nicole patiently shouted (I know it sounds like an oxymoron, but that's really the only way to describe the response) an answer. I started walking with Moon back to the tables stocked with food, both of us with an armful of lettuce heads, and Moon said, "Isn't farmer Nicole awesome? I mean, who else could drive a tractor like that and look so cool?"

And I agreed with her. Nicole is very awesome, and not just for driving the tractor. By single-handedly taking on a farm during its transition stage, and by being an independent and strong-willed female, she's a role model for girls like Moon (and like me, for that matter). 

I worked at a local hardware store as a cashier during my senior year of high school. It was mostly a boy's club, and sometimes I felt out of the loop working with a bunch of tool-savvy guys. I really regret not taking charge of my experience there and having them teach me how to rewire lamps, glaze windows, or fix vacuum cleaners. I just passively accepted my role as the counter girl and didn't do much to try to shift people's thinking about a girl working at a hardware store.

Nicole sees my lack of knowledge with power tools, and encouragingly hands me the wood and screws when we put together table tops for seed start trays or set up trellising in the greenhouse. She helps me erase all doubt about my ability to do something by handing me the tool and saying, "Do it!" It's so easy to put partial blame my dad for not making me learn how to fix a leaking sink, and blame on me for not asking him. But really, it's not his fault, nor is it mine, that we live in a culture that doesn't think twice about setting a girl in front of a stove or a child, and a boy in front of a squeaky door hinge or car with a flat tire. It's the awesome women like Nicole who empower other women, who weren't exposed to hardware growing up, to grab the power saw and slice the heck out of that two-by-four.

I'm noticing that in fact many women around here in Washington are the ones waking up, seeing a problem in our food system, and wanting to participate in the change by running organic and sustainable farms. I see their callused hands making enthusiastic gestures at the farmer's market, their sunburned faces smiling at customers, and I want to skip and jump up the yellow brick road to Monsanto's headquarters and yell, "You don't stand a chance against all of these amazing women! You're just an old profit-hungry man behind a curtain!"

Ahem...now that I've gotten my Wizard of Oz reference out of the way...

Women like Nicole, who's taking on a crazy farm headstrong; women like Sylvia, who was born asking dozens of questions and got in the face of any system that stood in her way, women like the ones who started Sunfield, who have hung on hell or high water to their students and their school for the past ten years; women like my own mother, who has recently fully embraced herself by openly falling in love with an other fantastic woman; all of these ladies are wonderful examples of what women can do, and the courage displayed through their hardships inspire younger women to do the same.

And to all the guys out there, I am by no means attacking you. There is a difference between commending women and ragging on men. There are many men in my life whom I love and appreciate just as much, and for other reasons (one of whom I was just talking to tonight about a video he posted on our school's Facebook page, called Violence & Silence, a TED Women Talk, given by a man - you should check it out). I just wanted to give my fellow ladies an applause for being, well, frankly, awesome.

Hello women of the world. Thank you for being a constant inspiration, for encouraging me to break down barriers, and for holding my hand every step of the way.



Here is a brief picture set of my past couple of weeks here, enjoy!

May Day Festivities - kids dancing around the smaller Maypole

 Farmer Nicole got in the middle of the tube of ribbons we all wove while walking around the Maypole (the top broke off, so we did a makeshift weaving from the ground)

 The three bright boys I ride to school with every morning. This was taken after they helped me sing "Happy Birthday" to my brother last week on the way to Sunfield.

 Sylvia and I went to the farmer's market this past weekend and then walked in a beautiful park and on the beach. I closed my eyes and listened to kids laugh (which is something everyone should try)

 Made this for Sylvia for Mother's Day (evidently) - made one for my mom as well

 Snuggle time

 Nicole's dogs, Sis and Jim, begging for my lunch in the yard

The way the evening sunset comes through dandelions in the field makes them appear to be floating balls of light - incredibly magical

Midge and the barnacles say "hi"

Keep Movin'

One thing that has really stood out to me in my first few weeks here in Port Townsend is the importance placed on community. In fact, on our way back from the airport, Nicole mentioned the importance of having good people skills and knowledge about community organizing in operating a farm. It was something that had never occurred to me, that farming and community go hand-in-hand. But it makes complete sense, especially on a farm so closely involved with a school, a whole other community in itself.

And so far I really am seeing the magic sparks from this community at Sunfield, and getting to be a part of it is quite the honored experience.

For example, a couple of Fridays ago, Sunfield Waldorf School held their first Sun Run. It was a fundraiser for the school in which the kids collected pledges for each lap they ran around the grounds, and then were given an hour to run as many laps as possible in efforts to collect the most money. 

Circle-up at the end of the Sun Run

Many parents came, and every kid participated. It was a lovely event said to have raised thousands of dollars, an amount that is hard to come by for a non-profit school. It tickled me to finally get to see all of the people that make every day at Sunfield happen in one outdoor space, and everyone's enthusiasm proved to be quite inspiring. 

In another example of community involvement, at this time on the farm, we're working on getting people in the area to sign up for our CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) Program. For those who aren't familiar, CSAs are food systems that benefit the local consumer as well as the local producer, in which the customer pays upfront for a share of farm-grown items to be available to them throughout a season, and the farm is then able to purchase the necessities (such as seed and irrigation materials) to produce these products (Sunfield also offers a work-share, in which families can work a certain amount of hours a week and receive a half-share, feeding about two people, of farm-grown items). It's a great opportunity for members of the Sunfield community and even the people of Port Townsend to support the farm and its educational opportunities that it offers to the local kids.

In another instance, this past Friday I volunteered at an administrator-organized school fundraiser concert, featuring Aimée Ringle and Simon Lynge, both very entertaining and engaging acoustic performers of the area. Most people who attended were parents and kids who attend the Waldorf school, so it probably didn't raise as much money as intended, but it was still a nice event for socializing and a good opportunity to advertise the other things going on at Sunfield. For instance, there was a table to buy raffle tickets for a quilt, a table selling CDs of the performers, and another table selling a parent-made Sunfield cookbook. I was at the same table as the cookbook, trying to promote the CSA with just a few pamphlets and my poor salesmanship skills. And that's when I noticed something peculiar ...

The avid employee and volunteer at Sunfield who was with me at the table was doing a wonderful job of pushing the cookbook, but never once mentioned the CSA to people as they came by. If these people are interested in a cookbook, why not check out what the CSA has to offer? Not only does the school provide the recipes, but the farm supplies the ingredients! Come one come all! 

I was under the impression that we were both endowed to helping each other out; He represents the school in a way with the book while directing people to a way of receiving the vegetables that we're growing, and I hold out for the farm with my little handouts while showing a good recipe for a yummy summer-greens salad. But aren't the school's interests the same as the farm's? Does one even care about lending the other a hand?

It seems to me that the school views the farm as just a fun learning playground for the kids to be able to interact with animals and the processes of biodynamics, and the farm views the school as a nuisance that gets in the way of productivity. But how beautiful both are on their own! How can an interest be created in the big picture of what is being done here as a complete community of farmers, parents, and students?

I think I understand the problems. Many already busy parents are burnt out after spending their time with the fundraisers for the school, and don't have much time or energy left in the week to pull a few weeds in the raspberry patch, or help organize the barn to look nice for the CSA. And the few people who aren't parents but put their heart and souls into parts of the farm and school (such as setting up the Sunfield booth at the Farmer's Market every week, promoting the outdoor programs Sunfield offers, and working on enrollment for the coming school year) feel like their services are hardly acknowledged and under-appreciated. 

It's the non-profit dilemma. People come in extremely enthusiastic, giving their heart and soul up to "the cause",  and eventually start to feel as though they are being taken advantage of, coming away from their experience with a jaded look at certain parts of an organization that didn't even have bad intentions in the first place.

So right now, Nicole and I are working on getting an email list together to send out to members of Sunfield asking them to help as much as they can. If not on the farm, then in the office helping with administrative work. It's tiring and frustrating to see the amazing ideas and events come forward in this community with a lack of unity between the basic parts of the whole - farm and school.

And I know, you're probably thinking, "Elaine, you seemed so enthusiastic about this place in your last couple of posts! Why all the complaining?" I don't mean to come off as a whiner. As bad as this may sound, I really am enjoying getting to witness and experience both the ups and downs of this great organization. I am beginning to learn about important things involving community and the different types of people involved - skills that I will probably carry on throughout the rest of my life. And although it's disappointing to see these things happening, I am still extremely grateful that this experience isn't always going to be filled with "puppies and lollipops" (as Nicole would say). 

Last weekend I was biking up a tricky hill coming back from the food co-op, and was becoming not only irritated with the seemingly never-ending escalade, but also with my struggling feelings about how to compose all of these thoughts into a blog post as well as what I can do to maybe help unite the community during my short stay. As I huffed and puffed and mentally cursed at my weak legs, an older man in fancy biking gear sped past me with a smile and said, "Keep movin'". I laughed, not only at my pathetic amount of endurance, but also at the perfect timing for such an encouraging comment. Nicole was right, that community is such an important but overlooked part not only in agriculture, but in education as well (and in our case, both of them together).

I just have to refrain from too much frustration, take a deep breath, and keep moving.

Hello, Sunfield Farm and Waldorf School community. Thank you for the challenges that you bring and the learning experiences that come along with them.

Keep "mooo"vin'!

...couldn't resist...

"Don't Be Ashamed of Your Age"

Disclaimer: This post is more of a public personal reflection of something that has been on my mind recently. But not to worry; a more complete misc"Elaine"ous experience is on its way to the internet soon. 

A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of experiencing my first Music Night hosted at the home where I'm staying. It is a modest weekly gathering of musically talented friends of Sylvia and Bernie's. The night kicked off with a new number introduced by Sylvia, the group's guitar player, called, "Don't be Ashamed of Your Age", originally written (I believe) by Willie Nelson. Bernie, the bassist, and John, the clarinetist, glanced over the sheet music and picked a comfortable key. They began to play together after a count of three, and Sylvia sang:

"Don't be ashamed of your age,
Don't let the years get you down...

That old gang you knew,

They still think of you,
As a rounder in your old home town.
Don't mind the grey in your hair
Just think of the fun you had puttin' it there..."

It was easy to separate myself from the group, this being the first time I had heard this toe-tappin' standard. I looked around at the others in the room with decades more of experience and wisdom than myself, and I made an 18-year-old note of how much I truly enjoy being with people who do not share my age.

I noticed this again last weekend, when I went on a walk with Sylvia and the dogs (that's Bo's dog, Midge, running above) along the shore below the bluff. Sylvia is 52 years old, and full of interesting experiences, with a knack for telling stories. We seem to never run out of things to talk about, from thoughts on evolutionary theories and literary preferences, to  familial tales and personal hardships. She noted aloud how I held myself in a more mature manner than most kids my age, something that I've been told my entire life. I shared with her my past difficulties in finding connections with people my age, starting very early in childhood. And to be honest, I cannot remember what she said after that, because at that point I had turned inward to look at this vocalized revelation. 

Why do I have trouble getting along with people my age? Attending or hosting social events with my peers has always had a tendency to make me nervous and awkward, but I usually look forward to speaking to an older family member at a holiday gathering or listening to a senile hardware store patron talk about the good ol' days. I started to fear maybe it was because I secretly consider myself better than everyone who is at my stage in life. But I figured that couldn't be the proper explanation for why my body seizes up as I think about clusters of young adults at young adult gatherings, drinking young adult beverages and saying cool young adult things that never seem to sound right coming out of my mouth...

The real reason is that I am ashamed of my age. I'm now working in the adult world, and am treated as an adult. However, when people discover that I'm only 18, something changes. There is an awkward facial expression that appears on the "real" adults, saying, "I'm acknowledging that you're the age of which you are not quite on your own yet, but you like to pretend to be. How cute." 

And I think, "This isn't fair! Give me a chance to show you how old I really am! You noticed before when you thought I was at least 25!" Always considering myself to be an "old soul", it is hard for me to ignore the fact that I enjoy reading, crafting, manners, limited usage of the word "like"(anyone...? Bueller...?), etc., and that these activities are not typical of most people my age. These are all practices that are normally socially associated with someone like Sylvia, who has years of experiences that put "grey in her hair" and a tone of wisdom in her voice. Why can't I just be accepted as that right away, a wiser, more insightful person despite my young outer shell?

It's because the truth is, as much as I don't want to face it, I am 18. I'm not wise beyond my years. I've never had to financially support myself, still have a tendency to think the world revolves around me (let's refer back to me daydreaming during Sylvia's advice on how to handle getting along with people my age, shall we?), and sometimes spend way too much time on narcissistic social media sites. But it's all part of my learning and growth, right? I'm trying to be mindful that there will be a time and a place for telling a young whipper-snapper the crazy story of a young teenage girl who decided to live in an unfamiliar state across the country to work on a farm for three months without looking back. But that time isn't now. At present, it is important that I acknowledge my immature tendencies as a young adult, be appreciative (not ashamed) of my age, and cherish this one-of-a-kind time and experience.  

Hello 18-year-old me. Thank you for taking the time to embrace the importance of where you are in this moment.

Life is Beautiful and Bountiful

My first work week in Washington is wrapping up, and I've felt nicely settled in ever since the plane landed in Seattle. 

I met with my boss, Nicole, after being dropped off at a shuttle station from the airport. She brought me to her little farm house on Sunfield's property and welcomed me with a nice basket full of house-warming goodies.  

I stayed there for the weekend and was shown around the farm by Nicole, her boyfriend, Blake, and their two dogs, Sis and Jim. Sunday was a dreary, rainy day in the area, but it was the first sight I got of the farm in daylight, and it was still proving to be a very beautiful place to me. 

Throughout the rest of the week, Nicole gave me many opportunities to get a taste of farm life. I separated old strawberry roots, cleaned out the front of the long barn for the CSA in June, made runs to local restaurants and grocery stores to deliver spinach, and weeded...and weeded...and weeded some more (much to weed on an organic farm). 

Every once in awhile Nicole will pause what she's doing and explain the process of a task and the efforts that go into it. She will talk about ordering seed and the problems with ordering too much or ordering too late in a season; what to look for in plant germination, making sure weeds don't choke out the roots of plants; the energy and planning involved in uniting the communities of the Waldorf school and farm with the people of Port Townsend. I am starting to learn quickly how involved farming is in many different skill sets, not just cranking up the tractor every morning to till the soil and flipping on a water hose (like I'm sure many of us imagine when we think of farming). 

Also, since the farm is tied to a Waldorf school, the kids have to be involved in farm work. Every morning at 11, Nicole and I get some of the kids for 45 minutes to help us do farm chores to keep their little hands busy, as well as educate them about the many efforts involved in farming. This seemed like no issue to me, since I’ve always been very good about being involved with children in the past. But for some reason, there is a gleam in these Waldorfian eyes that is full of unharnessed energy and spunk, and I can’t help but just want to observe their interactions with one another without interference. 

Starting on Monday, I began my stay with a family of the Waldorf school, who live on the northern end of Port Townsend, about 15 minutes away from the farm. Their house is a nice modern design in a rural property with a chicken coop and pathway that leads out to an open, grassy field. The mother, Sylvia, took Nicole and me out for a stroll in this rolling yard and told us it was her neighbor’s property, but he let them walk out on it as they pleased. Slowly, we came upon what looked like an edge to this field. Soon snuck up a massive body of water...Puget Sound.

I couldn’t believe it...for my first co-op experience not only do I get to travel across the country to live in a place unknown and work with a Waldorf school and farm, but my backyard is equipped with a perfect, breath-taking view of Puget Sound!

Lovely Sylvia and her caring husband, Bernie, as well as their charming son, Roland, and sweet friend, Bo, have been nothing but graciously kind to me in the past few days. They make the meals, and I do the dishes. They go out for a movie, and I stay to play a game of sword-fighting with Roland. It’s a wonderful place to make me feel at home, and I'm loving every minute. 

This evening, Bo brought over an apple pie that he made (he marked a "Ro" for Roland, an "E" for me, and an "S" for Sylvia. He said he dedicated his pie to the ladies and the only reason why Roland was on it was so that he would actually eat it - Ha!). As I sat there with the family, tasting the spices in the apples and sweetness in the homemade whipped cream, I paused for a mouth-filled moment and thought, “How fortunate am I to be greeted with all of these new wonderful people and experiences!”

Hello, new life here in Washington. Thank you for your beautiful sights and unimaginable opportunities.

A Metamorphic Cliché of Sorts

For the past couple of weeks, I have been preparing for a big move. Across the country, in fact. Tomorrow afternoon, I fly out to the Pacific Northwest for my first three-month co-op job on Sunfield Farm and Waldorf School. I've never lived that far away from home before, or for that long of time. To describe myself as "nervous" would be a bit of an understatement...

It has begun to dawn on me how intimidated I feel about the world and all of its places. There is not much I know beyond my white, middle class walls. This fact really started to creep through my thoughts this afternoon. My mom, brother Aaron, and I took an afternoon to visit the Franklin Park Conservatory to get a peek at the butterfly exhibit. The Conservatory is a favorite place of many in Columbus; one can come any day, no matter the weather, and experience a variety of indoor simulated climates and beautiful plant life. Every spring, the Conservatory releases an array of butterfly specimen to live amongst the plants and show off their beautiful transformations to the public.

As the butterflies fluttered around my head and through the tropical plants, I began to think about them...each one of those strong, stunning butterflies came from small and seemingly insignificant caterpillars. It was a natural process, for the caterpillar to build its cocoon and go through its dramatic metamorphosis.

It reminded me of my recent development and changes that I've experienced at Antioch in the past six months. In that time, I have learned how to pull away from many comfort zones; how to approach intimidating situations and people who don't share my perspective; how to build confidence to speak out about injustice in the world.

Sets up the perfect cliché metaphor, right?

Truly though, for the first time, this coddled caterpillar is flying from the cocoon of Columbus and Yellow Springs, Ohio, to embrace the world in her new form. She may not feel she is ready, much like some of the caterpillars might feel, but she knows it has to happen at some point. In fact, it is happening now.


Hello, Port Hadlock and Port Townsend, Washington. Thank you for providing a habitat for this new butterfly during the next three months.