The Harvest that almost wasn't

*Our parents were more than farmers - they were avid world travelers - from Africa, to North Korea, to Mt. Everest. They always kept a Travel Diary and took plenty of photos. We will occasionally post excerpts here.*

Nepal - Thursday May 22, 1980 - written by Dad:

This was our best day. They have all been good, but today was exceptional. We drove about an hour out of town to Godavari. The wheat harvest was on, so the villagers spread the wheat on the roadway so the cars can drive over it and thresh the grain from the stalk. Everyone was busy at work - the men in the nearby fields, cutting by hand and wrapping the what in bundles. The women carry these enormous loads to the road and spread it out for the cars. Then they sift it and let the wind blow away the chaff. It was fun to let the perennial crowd of kids (who follow us everywhere) look through the zoom lens of the cameras. The adults also like to look. Sometimes I pick out a shy little kid and give him a balloon. 

We drove a few miles further on to the Godavari Botanical Garden, which was absolutely gorgeous and sparkly clean. Lots of beautiful little streams, flowers, trees, butterflies. It was a joy to wander slowly through. 

In the afternoon we returned to the Tibetan Refugee Camp and looked up Tsering Bongtak, who had told us earlier that he would teach Gretchen how they weave rugs. We past the gompa (flying Tibetan prayer flags) and the piles of rocks inscribed with "O Mani Padme om" (The jewel lies in the lotus). We kept the gompa on our right side, so as not to undo the prayers - and climbed to the second floor of a brick house. There, Tsering's brother was weaving, and Gretchen and Tsering sat down to begin the lesson. His mother kept serving us tea (half tea and half cream with sugar, and very good) . We took the tea with both hands and smiled a lot and  bowed ever so slightly. Lots of people came to watch. After the lesson, we sat in his mother's small room (about 15' x 6') and drank more tea and looked at pictures of the Dalai Lama as a boy. 

We'll try again for Lukla at 5:45 am - but it's looking more and more doubtful. There is lots of thunder and wind outside now - so it may not be out time to go to Everest. No matter. We'll do something enjoyable. 

 Here is one of the surprise benefits of our rather off-beat upbringing. When I was fairly young, my girlfriend and I decided that we wanted to get out of school for a day or two. We came up with the idea that Poison Oak would do the trick. So after school we went down to the creek and found some nice, juicy leaves, which we tore in half (so as to get the most contagious part of the plant) and proceeded to rub the leaves all over our arms and legs. Confident that we would be sitting in front of cartoons rather than at a desk in no time, we parted ways. Within days, the red raised blotches began to appear ..... on my friend. Not on me. I was clear as a bell. Here's why: Our pet goats regularly grazed on poison oak plants. We drank their goat milk every day. In other words, I was immune to poison oak! I had to suffer not only through school - but through school without my best friend, as she was home with a terrible case of poison oak. Sigh. 

If one word could encapsulate the year of 2020 … I think it would be “Home”. This year, more than ever before, this Farm has been a refuge for our family. It is a place with open space and feels “normal” in a most unbelievable year. In the early months of the pandemic, (when even going to the grocery store could be wrought with fear and anxiety), the simple act of turning onto our driveway brought  relief and calm. We all found ourselves busy with projects: building a chicken coop, planting a garden, home improvement projects, building a new Farm Stand, and plenty of time together.  Some family members were laid off, or lost their jobs altogether. Some adjusted to working from home. As we moved into summer, our Hip Camp sites were booked solid, as folks sought safe travel alternatives. Our walnut crop looked as good as ever, and it felt like we were managing the pandemic. Fall brought a single 117 degree day, which literally fried about a third of our crop. We carefully planned a 10-day homecoming visit for Mom, who has been in lock-down for close to a year. We celebrated an early, socially-distanced Thanksgiving with her, and managed a whirlwind walnut harvest in two days time. Our family has had three positive Covid test results (all recovered), and for the first time in over 50 years, we did not spend Christmas together. Like everyone, we are weary of this new normal. But I don't think that anyone living here on this little 22 acre parcel ever fails to be grateful for this gift of space, and health, and simplicity that Mom and Dad provided us when they purchased a little hobby farm some 45 years ago. We are nearing the two-year anniversary of Dad moving to a care facility. And Mom to a different one shortly thereafter. We are all a bit more grounded this year. A bit more weathered and cautious. Gone are the weekly s'more nights with margaritas. We are a bit more distant from one another – as each family grapples with their own struggles this pandemic has brought. But we are doing OK. We are doing better than many. We are grateful. We are patient.  We are hopeful for 2021.We will keep moving forward, one day at a time. 

 ** My “Heart Tree” kept me very busy for several months – but very quickly the number of lives lost to the pandemic became too much to keep up with. As I write this, the staggering number of Californians lost is over 26,000. The tragedy of it can be overwhelming. It may well be a decade before life starts to resemble what we think of as normal. It all changed so quickly. It seems that the only tool for survival is to stay in the current day, or the current moment. That is enough for now.