The snow was rainbow glitter.
These were the tracks of field mice dragging their tails.
Eleanor took some nice pictures.
She also pretended to be a moose.
The girls, thanks to the generosity of my brother and his wife, started French via Rosetta Stone. Eleanor really shined here. She seems to be very motivated by the game-like nature of the program and because I told her that fashion designers should know French. Eleanor wants to be a fashion designer. We looked at Tim Gunn's 10 classic pieces today and picked out daydresses for ourselves. When I say "picked out" I mean we surfed around and said what we liked. We like different things.
I'm going through a late-blooming francophile phase. As I tiptoe into middle age, I'm thinking about the sort of woman I want to be and this appeals to me more than ever. Something to do with inner confidence and lifelong sexiness, helped in part by good skincare, good underwear, and a good haircut. I tell myself this fits in just fine with farming because French women are more in touch with traditional eating and cooking from scratch and where that scratch comes from. Of course I can grow food and look great. I'm not becoming a monk. I'm just going to need a big hat.
I went to a farm workshop last week. I learned so much and walked away believing that I can really be a farmer. I also met a chef last week who seemed interested in ordering produce from the farm I'm working on this summer but I haven't heard back from him so my excitement has waned.
What I love about eco-ag farmers as a group is their relatable balance of pragmatism and dreams. In the context of some pretty dry and practical information sharing, I met another person who dreamed of an artist residency on the farm and a woman who was adding a vegetable farm to her zen retreat.
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