Dear Farm Journal,
In light of our growing food community, I’ve been eager to get another wave of seeds planted. However, our seeding operation is set up in Greenhouse 3, and it’s just too steamy in there to work at length. So this afternoon, I migrated the entire affair into the cool concrete enclosure of the pack shed. Potting soil, dried out from the heat, sifts through my fingers and floats into my face as I fill tall stacks of trays. Rufus passes through the pack shed and bursts into laughter. “What?” I ask, waiting for the punchline. “Umm… Are you a coal miner’s daughter?” I sweep my hand across my face and realize it’s coated with a fine layer of black dirt and giggle. “I’m working”, I say with a smile, and try to move on to asking him about seeds. As I’m formulating my question, he loses it again. “I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously with all that dirt on your face. It’s just too cute”. We laugh and he snaps a picture. I love that something as simple as my soiled face could bring such a sweet moment of joy.