Despite mud and machines and curmudgeons, I have always been drawn to the romance of farming. There is magic in giving birth, nurturing plants and animals, and converting it all to food in the cycle of life. There is an art to farming, but there is art in farming, too. Today was one of those artful, magical days.
The mica in sandy soil glittered like fairy dust, while endless, precise rows beckoned to the horizon. And all of those pesky little weeds springing from the sparkly soil: Lambs quarters, Shepherd’s purse, and Fiddle neck? Their names take us back in time and connect us to a different age. Lambs quarters are covered in a white scurf that resembles lamb’s wool. Shepard’s purse has tiny, heart-shaped, seedpods that resemble a catchall bag an old-world shepherd might have carried. Fiddle neck has rows of golden florets that march up a stem that curls back on itself like the scroll of a fiddle a balladeer might have carried.
Equipment is huge! With a little imagination, these machines become giant beasts lumbering across the landscape. For example, I saw the “Eliminator,” a gi-mormous hodgepodge of tillage implements strung together to reduce the number of passes over a field.
Today’s light on the Santa Lucias stretched the mountains against the blue bowl of sky! Up, Up, UP they extended until they TOWERED over the Salinas Valley.
I felt quite minuscule and inadequate as I tried to capture the sparkle, the grandeur, and scale of Salinas Valley farming with the with my measly, little camera.
Reposted from May 01, 2013 11:03pm Facebook Post