A few weeks after my retina detached, I walked back into the farm store for the first time.
I wasn’t supposed to lift anything, drive anywhere, or do much of anything at all. I expected to walk into a mess I’d have to untangle later. Instead I walked into a functioning store, busy, stocked and humming, run by people who had stepped in without being asked.
Volunteers were behind the counter.
The crew was washing greens like any other day.
Sarah was somehow running both the farm and the store.
Our Roots Rising youth partners were still showing up through heat, rain and early frost.
Local collaborators kept the place lively.
And donors, the folks who believed in this idea long before it had walls, helped turn it into a real place.
That moment hit harder than the surgery. It reminded me that a farm isn’t held up by one person, and a farm store definitely isn’t. It’s held up by a lot of people who care enough to keep showing up.
Sarah’s parents keep this farm running in more ways than most people ever see.
It takes a village to feed a village. I’ve always known that. This year I saw it.
You’re part of that village, too. When you buy your groceries here, join the CSA, stop by the market in the rain, or tell someone about the store, you’re helping keep the lights on. I mean that literally.
Your support carried us through some tough stretches this year. When we were stretched thin, you gave us patience.
So as you prep for Thanksgiving, think about the hands behind the food on your table: the people who harvested it, washed it, packed it and baked it. Thank you for sticking with us, and for helping make a local Thanksgiving possible.
The farm store takes SNAP and HIP. For more on who grows your food and what it costs them, see The Real Cost of Real Food and She Picked Up the Worm. More from the farm is in Field Notes.
