Wendell Berry

Pictured here, David helps Logan work the Texas Native Inertia Nutcracker at Betty Van Dyke's booth at the Saturday morning farmers market on the west side of Santa Cruz. (The nutcracker is the coolest thing.)

Today was one of those days where all roads led to Rome. A series of coincidences (a coinciding of events, not “mere coincidence”) led me to some random clicking. I discovered a new farm blog that is quite worth reading, from Boulder Belt Farm in Ohio. Lucy Goodman (I found her name on her Local Harvest listing) writes:

I am a full time small sustainable farmer in SW Ohio. I am also a gourmet chef, a horse trainer, an archaeologist, a writer and an artist in my other lives. I love growing things, the natural world and politics.

The first thing I discovered there was a link to a Wendell Berry article. It occurred to me that I didn't know enough about Wendell Berry, except as a poet. That has been enough to sustain me until now, because poetry is something that sustains me, as well.

My introduction to Wendell Berry was in this poem, “The Wild Rose,” which he wrote for his wife.

The Wild Rose
Wendell Berry

Sometimes hidden from me
in daily custom and in trust,
so that I live by you unaware
as by the beating of my heart.

Suddenly you flare in my sight,
a wild rose blooming at the edge
of thicket, grace and light
where yesterday was only shade,

and once again I am blessed, choosing
again what I chose before.

So I Googled Mr. Berry, knowing far too little about him, and found myself like Alice down the rabbit hole, reading in a little bit of a trance. Useful is the Wikipedia article: he's not only a poet, but a farmer (since 1965), essayist, novelist, Kentuckian, short story writer, and more. Wikipedia says: “His writing is grounded in the notion that one's work ought to be rooted in and responsive to one's place.”

Like many writers who are rooted to a real job—like William Carlos Williams, the country doctor whose poetry can stop me in my tracks—Berry's language is elemental and essential, not conceptual and philosophical. By “real” job, I mean working with one’s hands in some way that actually makes them dirty. I'm a photographer, I work on a Macintosh, but I am a mother and Nana—I change diapers and cook. If the only thing that gets on your precious paws all day is Mac foundation and the accidental brush with a mascara wand, I don't think of that as “real work.”

While I have not seen any chapbooks of poetry by Joel Salatin, his writings remind me of what I read about Berry.

Writing more about him right now would be impossible, as Bob and Logan are listening to Monday Night Football and it's VERY LOUD IN HERE.

• • • • • • • • • • •

I am always excited when I see my friend Matt has a new post at Matt Bites. His post about NPR’s This I Believe also sent me down a rabbit hole. Of course I searched the essay archives for "farms." (I used to think it the corniest word. No longer.)

And what did I find? Annie from Santa Cruz (if you're new here, that's where I live) writes about her hairdresser. And then I find this sentence: “Down the street from her home is a neighboring farm, run by an organic farmer named Constance.”

I believe that is Constance Broz—pronounced "cone-STAHNCE broze“—is the wife of Thom Broz, out at Live Earth Farm. I had seen Joe Rubin, who farms with Thom at Live Earth, last week at the Wednesday farmers market (he's pictured in the far left of this photo). The happy word there is that Live Earth’s CSA had FIVE HUNDRED AND FIFTY subscribers this year. And they're wait-listed.

That is the kind of news that makes me so happy. Live Earth is one of my favorite farms. Well, they’re all my favorite farms, but I’ve been to Live Earth on several occasions, and not just once, like some of the farms I get to visit.

I really did love the downtown farmers market at twilight—even though I had to walk through the Bongo Patchouli Zone. Ack.

• • • • • • • • • • •

I just re-read the Wikipedia list of Wendell Berry's writings. How a farmer had time to author fifteen novels, along with a list of non-fiction books and poetry as long as your arm, well, it's beyond me. Absolutely beyond me. I am guessing that, like many geniuses, he doesn't sleep much—like Bill Clinton. (And not like the napping, Mario Brothers playing Occupant of the Very Very White House. And his wife is undoubtedly not only supportive, but organized as hell.

So that's all for today, and we are officially two-thirds through NaBloPoMo.

Speaking of people named Berry.

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: “Shipping is a terrible thing to do to vegetables. They probably get jet-lagged, just like people.”  — Elizabeth Berry

Thanks for visiting.

Comments

[kelly]

Wendell Berry's writing has reminded me to stop and feel my feet on the earth a thousand times or more. For this I love him.

Love the E. Berry quote. And look forward to having some time to follow some of your new links as I'm stuck at my desk in my cubicle with my hands on the mouse and the keyboard and my heart in the garden.

[Jennifer Jeffrey]

Wow, Tana. That's beautiful.I'll have to find out more about Berry too...

You cracked me up with your "precious paws" comment. Hey, those mascara wands are dangerous! ;-)

[Liz]

I heart Wendell Berry, who said, "Eating is an agricultural act", among other things. His essay, "The Pleasure of Eating" is one of my favorites. Ever.

[Helene Leichter-Saxby]

While searching for information about Elizabeth Berry after finding the quote shown above as Thought For The Day, I discovered this treasure! If anyone reading this has a few spare moments to take time to visit my website:
http://www.countrysideconnection.co.uk/ you will see why I am feeling so joyful! Would love to hear from you and to exchange links.