March on the Acre

March might possibly be the dreariest month on the acre. Brisk winds whip across the fields, often carrying a chill and gray clouds with them. Even the ground is dreary. The grass is a pale sickly version of itself, and everything is in a constant state of wet muck. It’s a month of dirty knees, dirty boots, and dirty floors.

We are tending to thousands of little seedlings, so although things are growing, there’s nothing ready to eat. It’s all the work without any of the reward. The food we canned, froze, and stored last summer looks grim. We’re down to our last few sorry little onions, we’ve eaten almost everything out of the freezer, and there’s only a few precious jars of canned tomatoes left.

This particular March has been especially strange. At market last year, everyone said it was one of the wettest springs they’d seen in years. This March we’ve already had record breaking rainfall. Not only has it been really rainy, but you can’t mention this March without mentioning coronavirus. In some way or another, it has impacted us all. Even way out here on our little acre we have felt its rumbles and imagine the storm is just on the horizon.

We’ve had to decide whether to invest our time and money into market favorites, or whether to invest in storage crops for our family in case our food system becomes completely disrupted. I’m a substitute teacher, but with no school in session, I have no job… no paycheck. The good news is I can spend a lot more of my time and energy on our market garden. I think the biggest question we face with all of the other market vendors is whether or not there will be a market this year. With covid-19 running rampant, will markets be allowed? So far we’ve heard we’re essential because of the goods we provide to the community, but there’s the question of how to do a farmer’s market and still do social distancing. For now, only time will tell.

While March, especially this March, has the air of grim and dreariness, I love March on the acre because it pulses with hope. The cycles of the seasons are reminders that “this too shall pass.” The gray clouds and record breaking rains will give way to sunny spring days. Lifeless grass will turn green. The mucky garden beds are brimming with billions of living microbes all just waiting to make the garden burst with life. March reminds us that things will turn a corner, that there is hope getting ready to burst from the darkness, and that perseverance will eventually be rewarded. March on the acre is hope in disguise.