One of the gifts of the Dear Farm Journal project has been my ability to scroll back and see what I was doing on this day in 2019. It offers a comparison of details and emotions long lost to memory. Last year, I was struggling with the close of the growing season, restless and bewildered by the wide swing of energy output between summer mania and winter hush. I was wheedling myself into loving all seasons equally, yet perceiving lack in the interval of less light and life. This year, it doesn’t quite feel like winter has come. Neither has a fitfulness disturbed the inner workings of my rib cage. So much is different, ‘a pack of blessings light upon my back’.


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