Letters from Australia . . .

Hey guys!

Sorry it's been a while. Busy here. Am in a small town named St George in Queensland, working on a vineyard. A not organic vineyard mind you. As the owner says, "not even close". Some people seem to have gotten a rash from the chemicals. nasty stuff. But grape vines have this certain beauty to them. Living at a backpackers camp, with several trailers split into a a few rooms with bunkbeds. Finding the charm in bunkbeds again. That's what you sleep on when you're a backpacker. That or the ground.

First week I got here it rained every day after a ten year drought. Fit in several partial days of work that week. Last two weeks hvae been great, probably 80 - 90+, but it's raining today and cool. Fit most of a day in before it got too bad. I start work at five like most of the backpackers here do, working on various farms picking or packing onions, grapes, canteloupe (known here as rock melons). The kangaroos are in their hopping glory around here. Saw about twenty this morning in a troop, just grazing. Pretty neato. Huge spider in the kitchen right now. Like you hear about in Australia. Bought some vegemite to try later today. People say it's not very tasty, but I will give you the authoritative opinion on my impression after I know for sure.

Had a good time in Sydney, but the city part of Sydney is like any city, really. You have to get out of the city to see it's personality. The many beaches are nice. Met a good group of friends in Sydney. Drinking age is 18, so there are plenty of young folks taking advantage of the new found freedom of the pub.

It's nice to get out and talk with the natives! In Sydney it's all backpackers. Lots of Brits, Europeans, Canadians. But almost now Americans, which I find strange. I guess we go to Europe to travel. Shame. I'm wishing I spoke another language, being around so many different ones. Lots of Koreans at the camp I'm getting to know. I feel lame around all these people that speak multiple languages when I only speak one. Typical American. But I can't decide which I should learn. Not many Spanish speakers here. German? French? I dunno. Korean seems daunting. But I've learned hello and goodnight, maybe that's a start.
Anyways, I hope you all are doing well and bundling up for the cold air!

~ Jake the Elder

Ah, Winter . . .

Well, here comes that part of the year when my motivation slows to the pace of freezing molasses. I cozy up by the woodstove with my cat and read a good book, write one of my own, or dig out all those hobby projects I've been telling myself I'll do as soon as I have the time.

The rush is over in a sense. Wreath orders have ceased, the farm is accumulating snow that Daren has to shovel, but NOT ME! Trust me, I have my own snow to shovel. Making a path to the chicken coop is plenty to start my morning, though right now it's just four inches of snow. Everyone from Windflower is slowly creeping toward hibernation mode as well. We gathered for a Christmas party a few days ago to swap gifts, divvy out cookies and play a few games or catch up. It was good to see the crew together again, because you never know who will be back the following year or not.

Since Windflower itself is quiet right now, I'd like to try and highlight the things we are up to this wintry season. Jake the Elder is off to Australia and will report back with tales of his adventures, Aidan hits the ski slopes as a winter job, and the rest is yet to be announced.

Winter Project List:

~ spin my own yarn
~ felt the bag I knitted last year :)
~ work up courage to send query letters to agents
~ make my own marshmallows
~ eat cookies
~ write

Northern November

November takes on a harsh look here, compared to the beauty of October and the change of the season. It’s as if the leaves were taken up by flames, red, orange and yellow, and the ashen remains have settled on the land, gray and dark. It’s the time when we switch over to winter mode. For many of us, it’s the smell of woodsmoke, stacking and lugging wood in. Or trudging through mud, slush or snow to feed chickens, pigs and the like. And wreath-making. Several of Windflower’s November crew migrate to wreath-making, an intense seasonal business that helps pay the winter bills. We generally just continue the conversations that we left unfinished since the farm, which seems remarkable. How can you spend nearly seven months with the same people, and have something unsaid, unargued, undiscussed between you? But we do.

The beauty of the Northeastern winter takes a long time to arrive nowadays, until then we get wavering periods of snows, thaws, mud, and all of it gray, to the point that you almost beg for a good blanket of snow to seal you in the house. Winter means books for us, or other random indoor projects that we could not summon the energy for in the course of the farm season. There’s a feeling of unspent energy, idleness, but then happiness for the natural season of rest that winter is. They seem to be conflicting with each other, but work a season on a farm, and it makes sense.

That’s the one thing I love the most about my work. You are, for better or worse, plugged into the natural rhythms of the seasons. Spring’s awakening, summer’s frenzied work to keep up with the weeding, the growing, and the autumn’s slow fall from grace, characterized first by doing all the farmwork we were too busy to do in the summer, sloping down until we realize we have little left to do, and then, nothing. We spend a year wanting an end to the season, only to be at the end and wonder where it went. It’s a twisted contradiction that we seek the end, and by January, February, we’ll be looking forward to another year and ready to quit the woodstove, bookmark our spots in projects, and walk to the greenhouses to seed.