Spring has sprung; the grass is riz; I wonder where the birdies is.
Nothing is so beautiful as Spring – When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; the glassy pear tree leaves and blooms, they brush the descending blue; that blue is all in a rush with richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling. The bounty of the season is in our gardens, at our markets and on our doorsteps.
As a luscious spring unfurls before us, we have, once again, joined the wonderful community gathering that is the Fort Bragg Farmer’s Market. Join us outside on the 400 Block of North Franklin Street every Wednesday afternoon from 3-6PM. In addition to joining the farmer’s market circuit here on the north coast, we will continue supplying our local markets, cafés, and delis with our tasty treats, both savory and sweet.
As time goes by and our presence expands, it’s you we have to thank. We’re so grateful for the show of support both in and outside of our rural abode here on the coast. Every day we’re afforded the privilege of interacting with our community, conscientiously growing and sourcing amazing ingredients, and transforming said ingredients into tasty treats is a reminder of how fortunate we are to have such independence.
Memorial Day: a time enjoy life and appreciate the many privileges we’re all afforded in our lovely land. But more importantly, a fleeting period of time that serves as a reminder for each of us to pause, to remember, and to reflect on our surroundings; everything we’ve lost and everything we’ve gained. Set aside a moment over the next few days to remember those who lost their lives defending our country; remember those who served and came out of the trenches as writers, teachers and mentors, who started preaching peace, men and women who have made this world a kinder place to live.
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