This winter is a strange and full one in many ways. With Christmas coming and the year near to turning, next season is already looming large. In it will be a hole that many of you will surely notice and experience with us.
My dear sister Alexis has been the genesis and the nurturer of all the vegetables at Elderslie to date, as well as a supporter of the general effort, from sinking trellis posts in the blackberry bramble to serving at the farm dinners. She has been here with us at the farm since before we ordered a blackberry plant and certainly before any bramble roots had taken hold of the hillside above the Chisolm Creek. However, she has finished her work here at Elderslie and is off to a new chapter of her life. She is engaged to a wonderful Frenchman named Max, with whom she will no doubt have many fabulous adventures and endeavors, and we wish them the most sincere happiness.
With Alexis’s departure I will be taking over management of the vegetable operations. Our hope for this year is to grow a select offering of produce for use here in the kitchen at Elderslie and for sale at our farm stand; for the 2016 season we will not have a CSA. We will continue developing our produce operation through the coming years.
We send Alexis off with the following poem by Henry Van Dyke:
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch until at last she hangs
like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says,
“There she goes!”
Gone from my sight . . . that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the place of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment
when someone at my side says,
“There she goes!”
there are other eyes watching her coming . . .
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout . . .
“Here she comes!”