As farmers we start thinking about the next spring, oh sometime in August, when the ragweed is high and we all are schlepping the same veggies to the market.Thoughts of cooler weather and the first scents of turned soil bring goosebumps to my arms even now.Funny enough here in the South Toe River Valley, our micro-climate is more akin to Vermont than to the down home south.This winter with it's feet of snow certainly affirmed that for all of us.You sit with your ear glued to the weather radio, waiting for that delicate balance between wet and dry, freeze and thaw.After a while, you can feel it in your bones and you rush out to the tractor, dust off the earthway seeder and wait for that first whiff of humus.Then its on,ripping off shoes and socks, feeling that last slush freeze your toes you jog the seeder down the rows,adreneline pumping as radish,turnip,spinach and mesclun seeds whirl into the freshly turned and manured soil.It is at that moment that we feel the connection to those first tillers of the earth in the fertile crescent and to the native americans, whose shards and arrow heads are always reminding us of the long line of agriculturalists before us.

Soon germination occurs and the crazy optimism on which we base our livelihoods starts to put on true leaves and soon our radishes, turnips,spinach and mesclun are gracing plates and palates .A whole new season is before us.
-Gaelan Corazine