Whole Circle Farm

With the official end of winter I find myself in limbo between the grayness of today and the promise of tomorrow’s harvest and sunshine. On the farm, we examine the ground for signs of green, cut budding branches for the house and rediscover also in ourselves harnessed powers that begin to reemerge with the very idea of spring’s arrival. When spring is in the air it is easy to understand why Anthroposophy believes that while winter is experienced through the ego, spring is an entirely physical experience. Yet while we celebrate the coming of this season with gusto, winter too is essential and very much alive (maybe even more so than spring and summer!).

During the colder months the soil in our gardens and fields is buzzing with life; during the winter the mineral substances in the soil begin to form potent crystals, especially in November and December. These processes are essential for healthy plant growth come spring, they provide fertile nutrients and sustain the soil throughout the season. Additionally, winter intensifies the processes that occur in the earth all year round: preparations used to fertilize the earth in spring are buried in the autumn and become, sealed within their respective vessels (deer bladders, cow horns, etc.), small living worlds working away. They absorb energies from the cosmos, become strengthened by the ego-forces concentrated in winter soil, and, when unearthed in the spring are practically bursting with life. Thus the earth provides us with preparations, in both senses of the word, when we need them most: to reawaken the physical aspect of our land.

With Easter comes fertility and its expression; traditionally, this is when hens begin laying more eggs again, after a period of rest and recuperation, and so the egg becomes a symbol life. While on our farm Easter does not bring green leaves and snow bells (like it does in my native Germany), it still presents us with a tangible newness. As the days become longer we find it easier to rise earlier –with the sunrise– and begin our physical work at the brink of day.

It is becoming clearer and clearer to me how much we humans are like plants. We rise with the sun –as flowers open their petals– and thrive in its gentler light. As the sun’s rays come closer to the earth, our own creative juices, like the life sap of the plants and trees (maple syrup!) begin to flow. Who hasn’t found themselves oddly inspired to create something, be it artwork, a garden, or a life-change, with the coming of spring? While this inspiration may seem spontaneous and spur-of-the-moment, who can say that these ideas haven’t been formulating and anchoring themselves within us all winter?

Easter is a Christian festival, and yet the Biblical story of Jesus’ death and resurrection mesh, on many plains, with the physical manifestations of winter and spring in the world around us. In death Jesus merely disappears from the physical consciousness, and in his rebirth, or resurrection he again enters this physical consciousness. Autumn is the dying of the plants, they leave our physical reality and go beneath the ground. We remember them though, and know that they will return in spring; they will be resurrected not from the dead but from a long and receptive sleep, arriving in concert with new light and warmth.
Walking across the melting snow on our fields it is easy to slip into moments of intense spirituality and awareness.

The sun is incredibly bright and warm, the singing birds have returned –killdeer, blackbirds, swallows– and patches of rough and muddy earth beckon and squish promisingly beneath our boots… The cows too have sensed the change. They are very earthy creatures, deeply rooted, calm and steady but the sun penetrates their thick hides and causes a kind of slow-moving excitement. They migrate to the far end of the pasture –which they have ignored in favour of the sheltered barn all winter– and stand, chewing and sunning themselves. The chicken peck at the revealed mud, maybe finding an earthworm or two already?

The farm is like a circus: all around us nature is performing her tricks. The maple sap drips generously into pails, calves and piglets are born, and the air smells fresh. Spring calls our attention to our surroundings as we watch in rapture the tiniest green buds appearing and unfolding. Our eyes shift focus from the far and remote to the near and immediate. Like young animals we are blessed to see each spring like something new and unlike anything we have ever known before. We unpeel ourselves from coveralls and warm sweaters and see that the soil is ready to be planted!