“The ultimate goal of farming is not the growing of crops, but the cultivation and perfection of human beings.”

Masanobu Fukuoka, “The One-Straw Revolution”

As I write this, I find myself in July. The sky is dark, the air is thick with humidity, and the clouds have spent days flirting with rain without releasing any meaningful amount of water. Where have the months gone? I’ve been working in a daze since January, on a quest for growth. I spent my entire annual operating farm budget by May. Growth takes money as well as time, it turns out. Returns on my investment are still in dreams rather than in reality, but the dream persists, and so do I.

It is my deeply held belief that constraints are a healthy and necessary part of life. If I had unlimited resources, I wouldn’t be motivated to tap into my creativity for new ideas and solutions. If I never failed at anything, I would never learn to adapt. Life is constantly challenging us and in rising to meet these challenges, we become more of ourselves, approaching that which we were always meant to be.

Last year, my biggest constraint was garden space. I couldn’t grow enough produce to keep my market stand full. Some days I sold out, and some days the produce I brought to market was not the type people wanted to buy that day. I took notes. Bringing more types of items to the market seemed to be the key to success. So as soon as last year’s market season ended, I went to work expanding my garden. I nearly tripled my growing area. I built new fences and shoveled compost and topsoil and wood chips. I hauled many prius-loads of straw (the prius seats four bales of straw per load). No, I don’t need a truck. I do need to find a more local source of straw.

I raised enough plants from seed in my guest bedroom to fill all this space and more. I planted them all. I got really strong. I’ve never done crossfit, but from what I’ve seen, I think it must be inspired by farm life.

The spring rains came. And they stayed. I had purchased 200 new trees to add to my floodplain, and I never got to plant them because that land never drained. My new garden space, although not in the floodplain and on the same high level with my established and thriving garden, appears to suffer from a high water table. My 152 tomato plants, 158 pepper plants, and assorted other lovingly grown-from-seed plants all wilted. Every day I visited them, told them I loved them, and begged them to live. I did whatever I could for them.

June arrived, and it was dry! Every day I tested the soil in my new garden with a moisture meter. Does it need water yet? Still no. The meter continued to read “very wet” for weeks after the last rain. Finally, the moisture meter produced “average” water readings. The plants began to recover! A few plants had already perished, but the vast majority rallied, and are now looking green and growing again. The crop, if any, will be late. Late crops are not worth much money. People are excited to buy the first ripe tomato in July, but by September they’ve had their fill. Timing is everything, almost.

All this trouble with the water table will be resolved by next year’s planting. I’ll bring in more topsoil, more compost, more wood chips. The garden beds will grow taller, and plants will have more distance from the groundwater. We will reach equilibrium. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. Meanwhile, I still have all the vegetables I can produce in my established garden. I have huge coolers full of kale and collard greens and microgreens and fresh herbs at every market. And I am resourceful.

Sometimes, it takes a friend to remind you of who you are. My friends reminded me that I am more than just one thing. Included in that collection of things I am are an artist and a craftsperson. I’ve always loved making things. In preschool, my favorite toy was wood, nails, and a hammer. (Yes, they used to let children play with real nails and hammers at preschool!) Throughout my school years I was an active participant in 4-H, and I tried nearly every craft project in the catalog. In 2008, I started my first business, and it was photography. Eureka, the farm stand doesn’t have to be limited to only vegetables! The universe provided me with a huge burst of creative energy, and I started bringing my creations to market. I made tie dye textiles and beeswax candles and matted art prints. Jewelry and candlesticks are currently in the works. I’m having so much fun with this and you, my dear community, have been very supportive of this effort. Thank you. It will be a year before I can try again for that first July tomato, but a new candle can be ready in 24 hours.

The kale is always turning over a new leaf, and here comes the rain.