I swooped down the winding slope and began trucking up a long stretch of uphill road. Over to my left, I caught sight of a large farm, including a man plowing with horses. I scanned the road to abruptly pullover, no dice. I deviated off into a church parking lot about a tenth of a mile up ahead, and spun my car around and cruised back down to the bottom of the hill. As I approach closer, I noticed white, plastic yard signs for selling and picking up organic goods. With that, my anxiety of trespassing dissipated.
I strolled up to a man harvesting crops, Matt, who didn’t necessarily look like a farmer, and quickly assured me he was here just helping out. He was friendly and very upbeat, and directed me to the man led by the horses, Anton. I approached him and his dark midnight horses, and introduced myself. He appeared fairly young, possibly early thirties. Initially, it probably came off somewhat perplexing for him– an unknown stranger suddenly stopping by to snap photos of the farm. But he had no problem with it, and carried on with his laborious work.
I toured around Good Work Farm (C.S.A) from aisle of crop to the next, greeted by dogs, hassled by hens, and struck by the sight of this well-kept farm under a clear afternoon sky. After I did my rounds of photos, I offered to forward him today’s work. He was pleased and informed me he was actually a graphic designer. Matt, immediately out of college, committed to a graphic design role at a larger company, and quickly became aware it wasn’t for him. He explained even in the creative side of business, you have folks who are just no pleasure to work under. With that, he gradually began doing more freelance work: there’s less commitment and more flexibility. Also, it provides more spare time to lend a hand to Anton in maintaining the farm.
Anton, Matt explained in brief, tried the corporate/real 9-5 job as well. It didn’t mesh well with him either, so then he did a stint in Vermont in farming, and now him and his wife lease this farm, and provide fresh organic foods to individuals who pass by.
Later on, I got caught in a long line of cars before I could veer off to my home street. It was a little past 5:30, and still remained picturesque outside. I couldn’t help but count the cars flying by with men and women stuck in their work attire. Nobody was singing, dancing, grinning, or gazing in awe. Each person just looked determined to return back home. After a while, though, the same road home looks identical to the day before, as well as the day before that. Some people notice it and some don’t. The people who do, deviate off to a new route home–one that gets them marveling again.