Living & Working

May 5, 2009

And around and around we go. Two-acres worth this morning. The horses and I, that is. Me, Buddy & Jerry, to be precise – the Belgians from Cedar Circle Farm. After a longer break than I had wanted in their conditioning program (hint: rain), I pushed them this morning to harrow two solid acres in about an hour. We probably could have done it in under an hour but the boss-man, Will Allen, interrupted our toil with a double-shot of espresso over a frighteningly-dark base of French roast and a hint of steamed milk. Ah, the perks of a fine place to work. Gitty-up boys.

Speaking of horses, I took the family to the Green Mountain Draft Horse Association’s annual auction last Saturday. It’s not a safe place to be if you like drafts, the tack needed to work them, and being around all the equipment you could dream of using with them. Not safe, as in: Not safe for your checkbook. Here’s my secret: Arrive with next-to-nothing in your checkbook and then “go wild” by making your only purchase be a $50 purchase. Mission accomplished: New water trough acquired.

The crowd was quite a bit bigger than in previous years. My guess is that it’s another sign of the growing interest in all-things-local. The push to simplify and local-fy our lives during a time of one global “catastrophe” after another (read: markets, banks, weather, flu, etc.) – real or imagined – is heartening.

The quality of life in the “slow” lane is priceless. It affords you a greater opportunity to see what it is you’re doing, passing and experiencing. Whether it’s slowing down to read a book or to harrow a field with a couple of horses, it’s what we seem to need most in times like this. In contrast, the mass-mediated lives are hot-wired for absorbing the next trauma or drama and dutifully passing it on: Did you hear? Did you see?

It reminds me of a man I knew in the Northeast Kingdom. He was known as one of the finest craftspeople in the field in which he endeavored. There was no shortage in the near-frantic demands for his time and attention. But each year he would decide exactly what he’d need to survive the coming year economically – minimally. And then he’d set out to work for nearly-exactly that amount before calling it quits and getting on with what he really wanted to do: tend to his garden, raise and work his animals and sit in the woods to contemplate it all.

He existed simply. He worked minimally. But he lived large.

I thought about him today as the intense focus of working the horses pushed me into the zone of being there, and now. The horses walked on, leaning into the weight on their collars and pulling me and the heavy harrows down near-perfect rows. Splendid, I thought: I’m living and working.

No complaints here, my friends.

Posted by M. Colby | Filed Under blog, food & forest 

Comments

4 Responses to “Living & Working”

  1. Dilldawg on May 6th, 2009 6:53 am

    After reading your blog, I thought i would fill you in about the man in the Kingdom, his wife who he had finally reconsiled his differences with passed away about two weeks ago. In the hospital she appoligized to every one for taking so long to die and taking up there time. Although this family was not orignally from VT, I would like to think they embody everything I would like to say makes me a Vermonter. Happy harrowing.

  2. boots on May 6th, 2009 6:27 pm

    ENOUGH, ALREADY!

  3. Peter Buknatski on May 7th, 2009 1:48 pm

    Is Boots King Friday?

  4. M. Colby on May 7th, 2009 3:26 pm

    Boots who?

    Or is it: Boo who?

    Whatever.

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