The rooster crows and my eyes blink open. I leap forth from my slumber and shudder away all remaining tethers to sleep. I step outside into the brisk morning air and listen to the sounds of animals stirring. I move swiftly by vibrant petals flowering forth sweet nectar on my way to the growing field. Zucchini, carrots, fava greens, arugula … I go over the harvest list in my head. As the sun moves slowly overhead, I dig my hands into the earth, and reap the benefits of planting and patience. I harvest produce; I feel at home as I breathe in the salty coastal air and prepare for the bake day ahead. From the field, I make my way to the pallet barn of chickens to collect eggs from all of our hardworking girls. Once I’ve exhausted my resources, I lay out my veritable gold mine of farm freshness on the counter, nestle myself deeply in the kitchen and begin baking. Moving from the field to the bakery, my world quickly shifts from trowels and soil to whisks and flour. Surrounded by measuring cups, timers and a plethora of ingredients, precision and patience take center stage. Once my baking concludes, I embrace the process of cleaning and organizing my environment, leaving the kitchen to rest, just waiting for the following day of cooking and baking. The culmination of my efforts with the oven: to bring the product to the local farmer’s market for the public to enjoy. Socializing and interacting with the eclectic food culture and community is the perfect end to the three-tier procedure of gathering ingredients, baking them into sweet and savory treats alike, and interacting with the community.
He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day
who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety
This new day is too dear,
with its hopes and invitations,
to waste a moment on the yesterdays.
Live life. Love life.