Hoeing makes the world go round

It's just me and the broccoli. Well actually, it's me + broccoli + hot hot sun + soil + my hoe + my blister from the hoe....And probably a few other things I forgot to mention, but at that specific moment it really felt like it was just me and the broccoli. I even talked to it, sang to it, thought out loud to it. But after letting out a few Beatles songs I kept quiet, listening to the birds and going back to being perfectly content, completely alone in the middle of the field.

Sitting out there in the calm I thought mostly about my newest friend, Mickey, or Mickeydonas as they like to call him.

It seems every week I spend here I discover something new, something interesting, something inspiring. Today I found Mickey.

Mickey is a quiet character, I had already seen him around a lot but the most we had ever talked was only a few hellos and some practical conversations about lamb fencing. It's amazing what hoeing can do for people. I've discovered it can bring you together. Squatting down, dripping tiny droplets of sweat onto the same dry earth together we shared stories:

He's from Sonora, I was born in Switzerland. He has 4 kids, I have none. His license is from Arizona, mine's from California. His wife lives in Mexico, she has my same name. She once came to California with him but their daughter got sick from sadness so she had to go back. They walked the desert for 4 days to get here, they found two dead bodies along the way. After that, his wife said she'd never do it again. He's going to go back as soon as he can.

Hot!

Summer is really taunting us these days. After spending an entire day hoeing onions in the scalding sun, Rawley and I practically raced to the freezer to cool ourselves off with some popsicles.

Even after lathering sunblock I got a massive tan in the shape of my racerback tank. I'm thinking it's ok cause after all I better save up some sun for rainy Ireland. But I'm not gonna lie, I don't feel jealous of everyone here who has to work through the real summer months, this is only the beginning...

Sweet sounds

One of my top ten moments on the farm for sure:

A perfect day. Deep blue skies, hot sun and a sweet breeze, my hair flying in the wind as I ride the moto fast, savoring the smells of the different crops as I pass by. I screech to a halt in a cloud of dust as I come up to the truck thats idling by the side of the road. As I get closer, I hear a Bach suite drifting from the open window. Antonio is sitting inside, enjoying the last of the musical phrase before stepping out of the car. "You like that music?" I ask in surprise. I would never imagine it, judging by the loud corridos he likes to play when we clean out the barn. "Of course, don't you?", he replies. "Sure I do" I say, still skeptical. "It's so romantic" he adds. My jaw almost hangs open but instead of saying anything I swing my legs off the moto and begin taking down the electric fence we've come to dismantle.

Mental note to self: don't judge people so quickly.

Eyes.

As promised, a study of the eyes of the farm.

Darling the cow

Spot the sow

A freaked out chicken

Crackers the evil cat

Fern the dog

Neo the goat

Almond Festival!

Admitting that I'm not the Almond Festival's number one fan, I do have to give it credit for making me appreciate the valley's beauty even more than before. Starting off the day in Esparto among the throngs of leather-clad, mustachioed bikers, I then headed to the calmer scene over in Rumsey. With bumper-to-bumper traffic for a large stretch of road between the two towns I was given the chance to look more closely at the fields and rolling hills that make the valley so peaceful and breath-taking.

In comparison to the packed and crazed Esparto festivities, Rumsey was a completely different experience. With warm rays of sun coating the celebrations, the sweet smell of ribs filled the air as groovy blues musicians kept the atmosphere lively and relaxed. Summer seems to be approaching ever so quickly and beautiful days such as today quickly turn the recent heavy rains into distant memories.