Ode to the late bloomer



When I first moved home to buy my families orchard, I was talking about how difficult the transition had been with a dear cousin and she described my move similarly to attempting to transplant a vibrant plant in the late spring or summer to someone else's garden.  For a long while the newly transplanted plant looks very unwell, like it will probably won't survive the move.  The little plant that once was strong in its old location is now weak, limp and most likely not revivable without some miracle, intensive tender care or resurrecton.  There is no way to know if the roots will take hold of the earth and if the transplant will begin to start to drink and take in nourishment once again and live.  Huge gamble, no guarantee, risky and brave.

That image so resonated with my heart back in June of this year and I wondered about my move home to save the family farm and if I would be able to survive the transplant and thrive again here on my families land.  This week while walking around the farm after our successful harvest I was looking at all the beautiful fall colors and deep red flowers blooming in the garden and it reminded me of my conversation with my cousin in early summer and I remembered that I did survive the transplant and made it through my first harvest season, I reconnected with a healthy community of friends and family and I feel at HOME here on my small family farm. The good news is that my permits have come through for my small home, the wait is over and there is once again momentum on my dreams. My days in the camper trailer are limited and the count down begins for a place of my own.  Sweet, sweet breakthrough feels so good.  This little plant survived the transplant and is blooming again.  So grateful, always hopeful. I am feeling so alive and well here on the farm at last. I truly am a grateful farmer.


Ode to the "Late Bloomer" or,
A playful rainy day haiku for this October blossom or,
How to bloom where you're planted (when you're ready):

"Green, a new transplant; 
In foreign soil, she takes root.
Late? No. Right on time."