right around two years ago, i rode down atlantic avenue on a bus with rob, jenny, and the human who later became eggboy. we were on our way from the governor's island gatsby party and so naturally i was dressed like a flapper. the person futurely known as eggboy and i had a conversation that still echoes in my brain every so often:
so what's you're farm like?? i really want to go live on a farm someday! i think it would be so much fun!
oh. um. ok, well are you sure? what do you imagine when you think of a farm?
i imagine myself walking barefoot through rows of dewey fruits and vegetables at sunrise. i'd wear a sundress. maybe i'd eat a mango. it would be foggy and in the distance there would be mountains. perhaps some olive trees.
oh. well, ok, my family's farm isn't exactly that. it's basically as flat as can be and there are days when all you do is sit in a tractor for 14 hours. you don't ever want to be barefoot. i listen to a lot of radio.
rob: moll, i don't think you could handle real farming.
yes i could! yes i could! i love the radio! i can wear cute boots!
so imagine eggboy's reaction when i told him that after a year on his farm, i'm now staying on the farm of my 2012 dreams. you're never coming back are you. i'll be back, i'll be back, but not before a few more good sunrise strolls through the fields of my host family's farm.
this place is like willy wonka for grownups.
colorful little rows, each with different crops, look like a trifle at the right angle, interrupted only by the volunteer squashes that grow from seeds that have wiggled out of compost. my morning walk yesterday smelled like basil as my host farmer and his team prepared bunches to sell at the santa barbara market. as i photographed the orange trees, a small farm dog romped through the stevia and kale to come say hello.
mountains in the distance, fog in the morning... dreamy is an understatement. maybe when my host farmer decides he's in need of some snow and the cold, he'll do a farm swap with us.