Doc is a wise, wise man. “You’re being tested,” he said. “All of us get tested at some point when we choose horses, and you just happen to be getting your test in the first three weeks of owning them,” he chuckled. Then he put down the phone and I heard him rustling through his bookshelf. He came back on, cleared his throat, and read me one of his favorite quotes from Scottish expeditionist W.H. Murray:
Until one is committed there is hesitancy,
the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness.
Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth,
the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans;
that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred.
A whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance,
which no man could have dreamt would have come his way.
I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets:
“Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.”
Doc’s phone sermon propped me up and rekindled something. I stopped flinching in fear of that body-blow. I marched up to the barn, looked Barney in the eye, and invited him to be well. The next day he was sound. Within the week, I had my team in harness.
Day by day, they are finding their place on the farm, we are finding our rhythm together, and little by little I am investing in the equipment I need to put them to work fully. This week they tilled up the corn patch-to-be and cultivated raspberries for me. We saved a couple gallons of diesel and I could hear the afternoon swallow-song instead of the roar of the tractor. Bliss.
There’s no doubt it’s going to be a slow build. I still need all 32 horsepower that my sister’s tractor offers up right now, but in two or three years I’m aiming for a farm that is 100% horsepowered. Crazy what can happen once you think a thought.
Zoë Bradbury is a Kellogg Food & Society Policy Fellow. She lives, writes, and farms on Oregon’s southern coast.
April 23rd, 2009 at 6:14 pm
[...] invitation to all you college students to skip out on Cancún next year and come spend a week on my horse-powered vegetable farm in southwestern Oregon instead. Not only will you go home with a genuine farmer tan, you might just [...]