It's Okay to Feel Miserable and Grateful at the Same Time

Oh gosh the blog gods are going to smite me...

I'm still in Oak Park and haven't made a post since I got here...we're going on 5 weeks here, people. And I'm torn, because part of me feels horrible, and the other part thinks, "I'm going to blog when I want to! I don't need a deadline..."
But the thing is, co-op only comes every six months, and it only lasts for three. And it's not like nothing is happening, I'm just having difficulties writing about it.

But here I am, finally bringing myself to doing an always-pertinent public internet confession: My feelings about my new life have teetered between misery and gratitude ever since I closed my car door to begin the journey here.

After my first couple of weeks, I had met most of my co-workers and spent a few work days in an office space provided for me by a partnering sustainable community development organization called Seven Generations Ahead. The people working there were generous enough to give me the space, and I appreciated the efforts put forth by so many to bring me there. And at the same time, I had difficulty acknowledging my true feelings about being in an office...

My desk faced a pale blue wall. I sat in a wheelie chair for five hours, glued to a computer screen. My fingers typed words and phrases like "outreach", "touch base", and "I just wanted to check in with you about..." Reading back over my communications felt as if I was reading something written by a totally different person. I was even sending template emails written by someone else. I felt exhausted, and I wasn't even moving! The energy was so different from the open skies and endless fir tree-covered mountains that accompanied me every day during my last co-op in Washington state.

And I was still processing my new living situation. I'm renting a basement in a home stay for international students that is owned and run by a couple of sweet empty-nesters. Of course, after having been at Antioch for a little over a year, my cultural-sensitivity senses were on high alert right from the start. I felt very separate from these people and was too critical of the intended and established roles in the household. Tending to the sneaky soft-core rebel that dwells within me, I certainly was not about to fit anyone's mold.

I didn't know how to write about this for a public audience. My employers would most likely read it, and potentially my host family. I would hate for them to think I was not appreciative of the time, energy, and efforts they had been putting into me being able to be here.

I expressed this struggle with my co-op advisor, Brooke, over lunch a few weeks ago while she was in Chicago to scope out jobs and check in with her advisees.

Brooke listened thoughtfully and summarized: "It sounds like good material for a book."

A book.

Me? Write a book? What is a book anyway? No, only authors write books. I don't know anything about writing. A book...?

So I left our lunch meeting in a dazed limbo. I began to imagine myself in a different medium, from a character's perspective, my experience coming alive through a whisper into their fictional ear. The thought of these uncomfortable situations became a source of creative energy for me, and when I got home, I didn't want to write - I wanted to draw. I wanted to make faces, speak in different voices, write music. All of these talents that I've stifled for so long began to emerge, and it suddenly became easier to express my conflicting feelings of misery and gratitude. It even helped me feel less miserable, and more grateful.

And I mean, what's wrong with being honest and saying that you feel miserable? Everyone can say that they've felt that way at some point in their life. When it comes to expressing the simultaneous feeling of gratitude, people can't buy it. It seems that in our culture of absolutes, it is all too easy for people to not accept mixing two opposite sides of an emotion spectrum. But it must exist within others - one can feel miserable living out the same, mundane routine day after day and still love their job, right?

I any case, I know the feelings exist within me, and I'm no longer worried about sharing it. I do love what helping organize an environmental film festival is assisting - to move towards a more sustainable world by spreading ideas and sparking change within community members. And I'm getting paid, which is great!

So, as I mentioned before, most of my reflections and creativity lately have been channeled to private journalling and sketching. I recently wrote to my good friend and fellow kick-ass Antiochian, Lillian, who is co-oping in Chile, "It's an interesting and challenging exercise, to talk about real shit without sounding really shitty."

Dear Self, thank you for powering through this post, and embracing the conflicting feelings of misery and gratitude.

Panorama of my basement space

My office. And the view from the window (The Lake Theatre is across the street)

My little ukulele playing group that meets every Thursday night

 Inside the Garfield Park Conservatory

From my stroll at the Morton Arboretum

Grow with the Flow

Hello again, this time from Oak Park, Illinois! I'm here for my second three-month co-op experience, working for Green Community Connections (GCC). It's a non-profit organization that promotes sustainability and environmental education in the Oak Park and Forest Park areas, both located just outside of Chicago.

It's been six months since the last time I've written on this blog. The other day I was reading some of my past posts from my last co-op in Washington, and it was a peculiar experience - it seemed as if they were written by a completely different person. Much has changed in the past couple of quarters at Antioch, changing events that have in turn changed me in their process. It's interesting to think about the upcoming weeks' posts on this blog, my tone from the last time definitely being different. We shall see how it goes.

I drove in to the suburb of Chicago Saturday afternoon after six hours of driving by myself - probably my longest drive yet. I started to get sleepy at one point, so I shut my Farewell to Arms audiobook off, turned cold air up, and sang songs to myself. I've never been able to fall asleep sitting in the cold or while singing, so I figured I could definitely count on staying awake if I did both at once.

Anyways, I turned on the radio as I started to hit traffic near the city, and was welcomed by friendly snow flurries. It was starting to get dark when I finally arrived at my place of stay, a home and boardinghouse located a few miles away from my workplace. The couple who lives here, Margaret and Don, have spent years hosting international students who study at the Kaplan International Language School in downtown Chicago. They were willing to let me rent their basement room for an outstanding price, breakfast and dinner included. It's a very cozy place, and will definitely be nice place to have to myself at the end of the day.

That evening Margaret and Don were hosting a dinner for a couple of students who used to live with them while they were studying English at Kaplan and now live in other areas in Chicago. One was from Japan and the other was from Saudi Arabia, and they were both very kind and interesting to talk with. I also got to meet the other students who are currently living here to study English at Kaplan, a young man from South Korea, a young woman from Brazil, and another young woman from Switzerland. We shared conversation and chicken cacciatore at dinner, and continued talking through cleanup and cookies afterwards. It was interesting to hear about the different cultural customs between everyone. It was even more interesting (and perhaps even scary) to discover that the most common knowledge among us all were the topics of electronic applications and American pop culture. At the end of the night, we all played Apples to Apples together in front of a fire.

Sunday I woke up to about a foot of snow outside. Robin, a woman who volunteers for GCC came to pick me up for lunch with her and Sally, the head of GCC and my boss. Robin is an Antioch College alumna and was the liaison between the organization and the college for my job. Lunch was nice and afterwards Robin bought a book by Joanna Macy called Active Hope: How to Face the Mess We're in without Going Crazy. She also very generously bought me a copy to read. I've heard of Joanna Macy and remember her visiting Port Townsend to speak, so I'm looking forward to getting into the book. After we pulled up in front of the house, she let me know that I could come to her whenever I needed to have a presence to listen to me, which I really appreciated.

I was supposed to start my job today, Monday, with meetings and getting myself settled into my work space. But the windchill is 40 below zero, so I'll be doing work from my little cozy basement space. I'll be spending the next few days trying to figure out what my expectations are for myself while I'm here, and what I expect to gain from this experience. Perhaps I'll figure it out along the way. I have difficulty resisting from making rigid standards or set goals. I'm keeping a journal for reflection so hopefully that will help.

Hello, Oak Park, Illinois. Thank you for being gentle with me as I try to grow while letting things flow.

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...