http://www.erdagardens.org/2012/12/30/b ... ice-spray/
It’s too early to be awake on a winter day.
In the summer, 5:00 am seems reasonable, rational even. In June, getting out into the field early to beat the high noon temperatures is the only way to function on the farm. But in December? The house is dark and cold. The house was also silent, until the alarm reminded us that today is special. It is the Winter Solstice and the second day of the Biodynamic “Sequential Sprays.”
In Biodynamics, we use different earth medicines that help restore and replenish the land. The sprays and preparations give the plants, animals and unseen forces on the farm renewed vitality and resilience. The sequential spray uses four of the most powerful preparations in sequence to alleviate conditions where “moisture is lacking.” As we are desert farming, we take advantage of every opportunity to help our farm organism to cope with drought.
We started the spray at sundown the night before, stirring the mix for an hour. At four o’clock the light started casting long, evening shadows, and the geese and cranes left their field foraging for the river’s edge. One flock flew over us so low we could hear the air scissoring in their wings. We finished just as darkness settled into the valley for the longest night of the year.
Now we were awake again, the following morning, to complete the spray. Because the preps an hour of stirring, we must rise an hour before the sun to be ready. I remind myself that some do ritual all night, that my friends down the road have already been up for an hour preparing the Temescal, or sweat, for their day’s ceremony. I remind myself why this work is important, that I have a sacred contract, that to do the work of healing is a privilege. So I better stop my whining.
When we arrive at the farm Jimmy, our Farmer and Mentor, has a small fire going. We bring the water, which had to be poured the night before, and kept indoors so it wouldn’t freeze. Moon, one of our farmers, is telling us funny stories about how “the end of the world” didn’t happen the night before, and the joke’s on those who thought they could get out that easy: “Sorry, folks! No first-class flights to Heaven here….” We have to create the “new world” in the work of opening our hearts to one other and evolving our cultural ego. Through this work we recreate a space that protects and nourishes us all. All people, all species and our earth. A new consciousness is a new world.
The hour passes too quickly as we take turns stirring the preps and chatting. The neighbors who share the farmland stroll over. One is barefoot, one squirming in his papa’s, lap unaware of his luck, still fitting into pajamas with feet. They all stir for a turn. It’s hypnotic. I would do it for longer if my arms didn’t get so tired. The vortex fills with bubbles and the barefoot neighbor exclaims quietly, “Cosmic mysteries revealed!” Just as the sky lightens, the ducks and geese and cranes return overhead, so close, so close. Cranes and sky and sun and other stirrers, we are so lucky.
We have a lot of ground to spray, six plots in all. We don’t know if we will be farming all of them, but it seems a good practice to spray those we have been tending and initiate the prospects. I spray Blake as they load the vehicles. April and I head to The Orchard and El Corto while Jimmy drives to Sanchez and Trujillo. We’ll reconvene at a new potential plot, Kelly.
As the sun joins us, the warm air compresses the cold air into the Valley, and though it is brighter, it is colder—like the days after the solstice. As the days get longer, the earth tilts us away from the sun. As the ice gels and freezes on the sides of my bucket and brush, I remind myself that Solstice is not the end of winter. I insist I relish the morning light, as it will be a while before I’m in the fields this early again.
A white hawk greets us at the Orchard. Tracks of cranes near the back of the field at El Corto. The farm is habitat. Sighting the hawk opened all my senses to the morning, and her wonder.
Back at Kelly, I am overwhelmed with gratitude, watching my friends and stewards apply the preparations. This is the world I am creating, holding this sacred day with ceremony and shared work. I am fulfilling my contract, helping to heal the land while, while feeding people. The geese bear witness. Together we are welcoming the sun back from it’s retreat.