Kids at the farm

10 Feb

I wrote this a few months ago and somehow never posted it. Now it’s cold and snowy and blustery and I’m comforted by this reminder of those warm fall days at the farm. Something to get us through this long winter.  What I would do for one of those warm, sun-ripened tomatoes right now!

In recent trips to the farm I have been delighted as I have overheard little kids out in the field – sometimes with their siblings, sometimes with their parents. Always amusing in their observations. They take nothing for granted and I love getting a glimpse of the farm through their eyes. To them it must seem enchanting and I can only hope that when we have children we will be able to provide them with the opportunity to come to a place like Brookfield Farm. The kids clearly are learning so much from the experience. Up until that summer when I was seven and my family planted its first vegetable garden, I thought most vegetables came from a box in the freezer. Peas and greenbeans shared the same sort of anonymity – food without a history or place of origin other than the grocery store. The kids I see at the farm have such a more intimate relationship with their food and where it comes from. Last week as we were out picking tomatoes I heard a little boy’s sing-songy voice: Eda-MA-me, ED-a-ma-me, Eda-ma-ME. I don’t think I knew what edamame was until I was 25 at least. Another moment that put a smile on my face came yesterday when Josh and I were picking cherry tomatoes. From the next row over I heard a tiny little voice repeating over and over again: “Red, Red, Ripe” – clearly trying to remember instructions mom or dad gave them about not picking the under-ripe green tomatoes.

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