The night after our monthly day in the field was a full moon barn dance at the barn just behind the farm.

Given how exhausted I’ve been after most days in the field, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay for the barn dance — plus I’m not really into square-dancing (especially since I can’t really tell my left from my right). But I couldn’t pass up the chance to camp next to the farm, to be out of SF’s summer fog and to watch a moon rise over the land I’d worked.

Camping and seeing the moon rise were both worth staying after farm school, but what really bowled me over was how ridiculously proud I felt seeing people eating the food we’d planted in May, tended in June and July, and harvested earlier that day.

Much of what we’d picked from the farm went into that night’s meal. There were roasted carrots, bowls of boiled and roughly mashed potatoes, and skewers of zucchini and peppers. We snacked on tomatillo salsa and lightly pickled cucumbers. Lucca and Palermo, the two cows that had made our first few days of working in the fields so fragrant, made excellent grass-fed burgers. My fellow farm school students and I were tempted to hang out by the food tables so we could tell everyone that we’d grown what they were eating.

But the moon finally distracted me from the food.  As the sunset over the now-yellow Sonoma hills, we stopped everything to watch the moon rose over the farm.


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