Dear Farm Journal,
The big red van crunches down the gravel lane as Rufus sets out on the first CSA delivery. I’m alone. I can’t quite remember the last time I went solo all day, and I try to swallow the emotional concoction of thrill and apprehension. My base sentiment is that of an unattended adolescent with hours of unsupervised immunity ahead. When Rufus and I are together, I always push myself harder. It’s just written in the Capricorn stars. We’re the most ambitious, hard working, stubborn, workaholic sign in the zodiac. Rufus is an assiduous factotum of a farmer, yet there’s an incessant drive in my bones that just can’t stand to see him out work me. When I’m alone, there’s a definite downshift in the drive. Today I notice I’ve been in high gear for quite awhile, so I take it down a notch. My brain is still in overdrive, however, thinking about Rufus on the road in Madison. I’m concerned about exposure and his added mental and emotional fatigue from masking, gloving, and sanitizing at every drop site. When I finally see the van headlights again around 9:00 PM, I breathe a deep sigh of relief.

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