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Walden Pond in the Fall as experienced by Bianca Valle

The Sun 

At the center of our solar system, and at the center of my life, the Sun has a solid, immovable place. It has kept me and, I’m assuming many of us, in high spirits throughout time. Whether it’s fiction or fact – the Sun emits an optimistic
frequency. To me, this is the most incredible part of the Sun’s story. Beyond
supporting all life, there is something indescribable the Sun gives to us here on
earth; I am grateful for it. 

I have been farming for the last three years and have had the privilege of
watching the Sun more closely. Becoming more intimate with it and getting to
know its dance through the days has been one of the biggest gifts of working in
agriculture. I hope for our collective we gather more and more Sun knowledge
and are able to have it become main stream rather than esoteric. I imagine it
hasn’t always been this way, but I do hope humanity becomes more familiar with
the Sun’s cycles. 

Through my eyes the Sun’s rhythm is as follows: in the early months of spring,
the Sun feels sacred, coming out ever so slightly, every now and then. I always
rejoice on these days, eager to peel my layers off and soak up its healing
powers. Then, as summer approaches, the Sun becomes a burst of energy,
fueling longer nights and more trying, but rewarding days on the field. In the fall,
the sun brings about a fleeting warmth, almost like a last kiss goodbye. During
the winter, the Sun sleeps, only visible to us when it turns over in its bed. Dense,
yellow sunlight is a sparse commodity in the winter but without this contrast, the
human experience would be dull I imagine.

There seems to be more smiles, more laughter and more joy when the Sun is out. This is not to say that there is a lack of joy on darker days, but the joy is different.  I heard an elder from the biodynamic community once say; “cooler, greyer days are for a going inward, while sunnier days are outward expressions of energy.” This made sense to me and helped me accept the ebbs and the flows of the seasons, and life at large.

Until Next Time,

Your Friends at Crossroads Farm 

Staff Book Pick

Pig Years by Ellen Gaydos

Excerpt of a NY Times Review by Kristin Kimball

Memoirs about farming tend to slide in one of two directions: the farce or the ode. Neither of those genres is as satisfying as what we have in Ellen Gaydos's debut memoir, "Pig Years", about her life as a farmhand in New York and Vermont. What this young writer has given us is more of a memento mori, rendering realistic scenes full of vivid and sometimes bizarre detail, always with an acknowledgment - on the surface or just under it - of the inescapable facts that life entails death, growth, and arises from decay. 

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