Outside My Door

I’ve been a grocery clerk, a war monger, an auto parts clerk, a carpenter, a teacher and a farmer, and the greatest of these is the last. The highs, pun intended, are essential in order to balance out the lows, a symbiotic relationship that also exists in this thing called life.

I speak only for myself. That must be understood because each of us must derive-or not-that which we can from the fleeting moments we have here in our own existence. No one can presume to direct another’s take on what is going on inside the mind. My mind, your mind, anyone’s mind. 

In any given day, on-farm, the highs and lows vie for my attention, with the highs winning out 97% of the time, simply by virtue of what I can see every time I step outside my door. And you thought I was going to say, simply by reaching for my bong. That too.

Tomatoes claim their due.

Lows, in the form of water issues, critter issues, discomfort or logistics, are temporary impediments to the satisfaction of growing your own food and medicine. They say you can either fork out the loot to eat properly now, or fork out the loot to pay the doctor(s) later. The choice belongs to each and every one of us.

Organic to many folks simply translates into more money. It’s not about choice when your pocketbook does not stretch far enough to include the octane in your tank. That’s why Walmart is so popular. For pennies you can fill your pantry with poison, but the kids are going to bed with something in their stomachs.

It’s a temporary tradeoff that takes its toll.

We are on the brink of hot-weather crops coming in, the cucumbers and tomatoes joining the ranks of the summer squash as staples in our households. As busy as we are these days, the price of poker will go up exponentially, when mid-August comes around and we are harvesting/processing our crop of tomatoes.

My expanded focus on tomatoes, leading me to plant more than 200 of the versatile fruit, will have extreme consequences, in the form of my being confined to the kitchen for a month or two. I’m happy to pay the price of admission.

Needless to say, “farming” includes wearing many different hats, like being able to pour concrete and pound nails, so that the finished product can pass a county inspection. What with cannabis regulation, we are finding ourselves tightening up the ship, so as to be able to withstand the stream of inspectors who will flow our way, eager to extract this fee or that one.

We are jumping through so many hoops these days, it’s hard to tell if we are gaining or losing. One thing is for certain: I’d rather work hard and have achieved the respect we have in our fields of fresh produce and medicinal cannabis, than work hard and be considered criminals.

That’s one of those highs I was talking about. Even if the outdoor cannabis farmers markets must end, it was still a grand era, and continues to be one. We produce the highest quality organic vegetables and medicine possible. Our efforts are unified, with each of us doing all that we can to further progress.

Highs and lows go hand-in-hand, but when you work hand-in-hand with others, the lows are not as bad, and the highs are snow-capped.