Dear Farm Journal,

These days the relentless rain is the apt accompaniment to my melancholy mood. I listen to somber songs as the weighty water falls, drumming a dim cadence against the greenhouse as I work methodically through the dying tomatoes. Fall has always been my front running season, but I haven’t been able to revel in the autumnal equinox lately. I withdraw and retreat into a pensive and preoccupied place, absorbed by all that hangs over my head. Are we making the right decisions? Do we have a choice? What do I really want? Although I see my bare feet set firmly in the soil, I visualize myself in a free-fall of forthcoming change. In the same way that you can’t help who you fall in love with, you can’t help what you fall in love with. I fortuitously fell in love with farming over two years ago, which derailed me from a more certain path, but perhaps it is an unrequited love, something I can love dearly, give my heart and soul to, but never quite get what I need in return. Unrequited love is the most afflictive because it always breaks your heart in the end.


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