Wee Farmer and Uncle Farmer

The Wee Farmer is here!  Just when I thought that I would never be able to tie my shoes again without hefting, huffing and puffing, she arrived.  W.F. was born the day before Thanksgiving, so while most people were laboring over turkeys and pies, the C.F., my mother and I were laboring (21 hours!) in the hospital bringing this amazing little person into the world. 

Birth and death are inescapable facts of farming, and this year these facts asserted themselves in our family.  My sweet W.F. brings to our home her new beautiful spirit, blue eyes blinking at this strange world around her, but this winter also brought death.  The world has lost a wonderful man I shall call Uncle Farmer; my uncle passed away this winter, and he is missed. 

Uncle Farmer retired with his wife, whom I shall call Aunt Agrarian, to a lovely 2 acres in a fertile part of eastern Oregon.  They have the most beautiful garden, orchard, and vineyard, which I always look forward to touring when I visit.  Uncle Farmer would show me all the different tricks and tactics he used to grow an amazing array of vegetables and fruits.  Herbs, Asian greens, sun gold tomatoes, habanero peppers, seckle pears, Italian prune plums, grapevines… I’m getting hungry just making this list. 

Uncle Farmer was not just an admirable gardener; he was also a master of turning his bounty into delicious meals.  C.F. said of Uncle Farmer when I told him the sad news, “He set a good table.”  This is high praise from a man with a farmer’s appetite.  I will miss sharing meals and strolls through the garden with Uncle Farmer.  Aunt Agrarian is learning to do everything they used to do together, and I know that with her friends and neighbors helping, she’ll be able to hold her own. 

I’m sorry Uncle Farmer couldn’t meet Wee Farmer.  She’s a pip.  Everyone’s first comment when they meet her is, “look at those cheeks!”  She is 5 months old now, and each milestone has been a delight—her first smile! her first laugh! her first pureed carrots!  And I thought baby goats were cute.  They ain’t got nothin’ on W.F.