Farm

Picked up my refills of medication at Wal-Mart, then bought two florescent bulbs for the kitchen ceiling light.  Got a coupla other chores done, and tidied the house a bit.  As promised, the northern dweller came about 3:00 to replace said bulbs in said fixture.  (It's nice to have nine-foot ceilings, but not so nice when you can't get up there to replace bulbs.)  Unfortunately, I had underestimated the length needed and was two inches short (story of my life).  Will return, get new, and she'll come back today.
The n.d. said her next stop was the organic farm co-op to which she and her husband belong.  I remarked that I'd like to accompany her some day and she asked if I wanted to follow her there.  Sure!
The co-op is in two locations outside Chesterfield, N.J., about forty miles from my place, but only ten or so from hers.  Took both cars and parked at an inn, then I got in hers and we drove the rest of the way together. 
We turned into a narrow, rutted dirt road leading to a large old barn.  My companion signed in, then checked a board for kinds and amounts of produce for members.  She picked up arugula, green-leaf lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, and Swiss chard (never had it in my life, but I'm game to try).  We then drove the two or three miles to the you-pick segment. 
Now, this is  no immaculately-groomed, perfectly manicured, machine-planted and picked farm.  You get down and dirty picking, especially as it had rained so heavily lately and the walking space between rows was more mud than not. 
I was given a pair of scissors and a basket and asked to start gathering  flowers.  (It's lovely to realize food from the soul is offered along with that for the body.)  I was instructed that fifty stalks were the limit and did my best to meet that.  Was also told to avoid the snap dragons, as they don't last, so I mostly cut stalks of lovely celosi(?), in deep purple, lavender, red, and yellow.
Finished them and was asked to assist in string beans.  Did so and found this was considerably more strenuous, the beans being mostly on the ground.  We also got "dragon tongue beans," of which neither of us had ever heard.  They're pale yellow with purple streaks and sound exotic, but we rubbed off the dirt off one and shared it, appreciating the fact we weren't ingesting pesticides with it.  Tasted just like a regular string bean.  More beans: soy this time that I was surprised to see come in small and fuzzy soft pods.  Must be  difficult to get them out.
Okra was the next order of the day.  This grows on high bushes and has to be cut off.  We had only one pair of scissors, so I stayed behind while my companion filled her quart container.  Last stop was for sunflowers, one of my favorites.  These were not the usual, though, they were "red"; actually, a deep maroon and very beautiful.
I was glad I had been told to change to old sneakers, as we collected plenty of mud while picking.  Got back to the n.d.'s house, where she gave me some of the day's harvest (I'll look up on the Internet what in the world you're supposed to do with chard) and we said goodbye.
Living in a scarcely decade-old community amid pinelands at the Jersey shore, I sometimes forget how appealing the interior can be.  We drove through little towns like Chesterfield, Jacobstown, Arneyville, and New Egypt, some established when King George I was still on his throne.  These settlements are filled with lovely old homes, stately trees, and pretty gardens planted long ago.  It seems to me--hopeless romantic that I am--they also harbor the ghost of the sturdy farmers and townspeople who went before us.  I had almost forgotten, too, that largess from the land has to be planted and watered and fed and tended before it can nurture us. 
And as I was reminded yesterday, it's no easy job to harvest it.