Casey O’Neill is a farmer and owner of Happy Day Farms in Laytonville, Calif. The opinions expressed in this column do not necessarily reflect the views of The Mendocino Voice. If you’d like to write your own column for The Mendocino Voice, send your idea to info@mendovoice.com.
I’m reminded of the Mr. Rogers quote “Look for the helpers, you will always find people who are helping”. I think of the many community members who have given their time and energy to mentor and teach me over the years, and I think of the young people in our community and what it is like to offer lessons to them. I think of seeds sprouted in darkness, tiny beings growing into the light.
There is a strength of commitment that comes with traversing the seasons of growth, the cycles of life. As the days darken and cool, I draw down into myself to reflect and renew, beginning the germination that will flower anew with the freshness of spring. I sow the seeds within myself of the lessons I’m learning, of hope, of joy, of love.
I find darkness within myself, and in darkness is fear, yet also peace. The dark night of the soul emerges again into daylight, and this too shall pass. I sink my hands into the soil, working with plants and the magic of growth, of seeds springing to life from inert form. I anchor myself in the soil, sending roots deep to draw strength from the continuity of my life, watered by the relationships I treasure and the love we share.
Truth lives in the soil, in the principles of growth and the cycles of the seasons. Though there is great variation in these processes, there is also a constancy that is reassuring; the sun will rise tomorrow, and when we pass the solstice, the days will lengthen again. Winter has begun, and it is a time for renewal, for rededication, for reminders of the reasons for which I live my life.
We have begun the annual organizing of the farm after the chaos of the main growing season, cleaning, discarding that which no longer serves. The mess builds up as we race from one task to another, putting out fires and greasing squeaky wheels, until the days shorten, and the slowdown affords time to pick up the pieces. Now is the time for sowing seeds of late winter crops, of planting bulbs for spring flowers, of setting our goals and intentions for the future.
I’m crossing a threshold in life, a transition from growth in farm and practice to a narrowing that emphasizes the aspects of the farm that thrive, the tools that work well for me, the methods that are effective and that I enjoy. As a younger man I took everything in, gathered all tools I came across, built up stores of information and ideas, like a sponge soaking everything up. The result is a widely eclectic mix that makes up our farm, but it’s also an overabundance of tools and an excess of clutter.
The time has come to pare down, to clean out the sheds, to throw away the broken things and to send those items that no longer serve down the line. I’m finding peace by seeking order from chaos, by reflecting on the tools I use, and by noticing the items that are just taking up space. Broadfork, wide rake, tilther, wheelbarrow, shovel; I use these almost every day, yet there are a few dozen other hand tools collected over the years that I never use.
It feels good to reach a point in my life as a farmer in which I feel comfortable with my chosen set of practices within my context. This sense of surety allows me to let go of some of the process anxiety of times past, relaxing into the joy of capability, the strength of repetition. Yet I am also wary; it is far too easy for that comfort zone to calcify into an inability to adapt, an unwillingness to change. I proceed with caution, using joy and love as light to guide my journey. I look for the things that bring joy, the ease of simplicity, the happiness of work done well.
The tools of livelihood are a human practice carried down through the ages, part of self-definition and craft that makes me who I am. The well-worn handles, chipped paint and dents come with use, like the velveteen rabbit become real, my life lived through them. As my hat ages, so too do I, and it feels good to take a moment to treasure these articles and reflect on the joy that good tools foster in the effort of skilled labor.
As we put the summer crops to bed under cover crops and I continue to sow seeds for late winter harvests, there is much to think about. I muse and ruminate about the state of the world, my hopes and fears, yet I try to stay grounded in the moment, reminded by the soil and the lives with which I work. When it all feels too much, I think of the seeds, and it gives me hope for the future. As always, much love and great success to you on your journey!