February 2, 1968
In the dark of the moon, in flying snow, in the dead of winter,
war spreading, families dying, the world in danger,
I walk the rocky hillside, sowing clover.
Winter makes its demands on the farm family as surely as the other seasons, yet it’s also an opportunity to regroup as a family, plan for the coming year, read aloud together around the wood stove in the evening, and work on projects we wouldn’t normally. Dave and AJ made a trebuchet a few days ago, Harry is cranking out drawings, the smell of fresh baked bread is wafting through the house (to be honest–mixed with the smell of a skunk at the moment), and Allie and I have our sewing machines out.
Which brings me to the point of this post: I’ve added three simple handmade lunch bags to our farm store. The fabric from Birch Fabric is organic. The bags stand 10″ tall by 12″ wide, so you can easily fit in a bottle of wine, a baguette, cheese, and some fuet as you head out for an afternoon with your favorite friend.
Because I so rarely take the opportunity to blog, and because in winter I get to steep in the work of authors that inspire me, I can’t resist leaving off with another poem by Wendell Berry:
February 2, 1968
In the dark of the moon, in flying snow, in the dead of winter,
war spreading, families dying, the world in danger,
I walk the rocky hillside, sowing clover.