Greetings from Tom in Hope, ME!

September 14, 2022

After two and a half months and over 3,000 miles, this cross country bicycle journey has come to an end. A week ago today I pedaled down Morse Road to cheers and applause from over a dozen folks gathered to welcome me HOME. I had tears upon realizing what I had accomplished.

Now, I am confronted with reentering my “old,” “normal,” “usual” life. My wish is to reenter slowly, in a way that is not overwhelming. I may have stopped pedaling for now, but I still have much to process. I am told that what I’ve done is enormous. I think that I have not fully comprehended the magnitude of the journey and it’s effect on me – physically, emotionally, psychically. This journey has changed me in some indiscernible way that I, at this early stage, am unable to verbalize. Thus, you can expect more blogs, post-pedaling.

The last two blogs in which I addressed “patriotism” and “industrial agriculture” have a critical quality to them. A view of “America” in a negative light. In this entry, I wish to address a softer side of the America I experienced on the “highway” that my legs and my two wheel vehicle traversed.

The qualities I’d like to address here are the random acts of kindness extended my way, the thoughtful gestures, the words and acts of encouragement, the offers of assistance, even when no assistance was needed. In earlier entries, I have already referenced some of the people who extended themselves in my direction, but there have been many others whose seemingly small gestures did not go unnoticed or unappreciated.

Some examples include: the numerous people who saw me taking a break on the side of the road and stopped to ask if I was okay, who offered me water (who insisted that I take a bottle of water, even when I didn’t need it), who asked if I needed help in changing one of those many flat tires. There was a woman in North Dakota on the Turtle Island band of Chippewa reservation. I was sitting in front of the food store there when she approached to offer me money, thinking maybe that I was homeless and in need of assistance. There were the motel/hotel receptionists who were willing to give me a 10% discount on the half dozen times I needed to shelter inside. There was the supermarket worker who was so impressed with what I was doing that she contacted a journalist friend to come interview me. (It didn’t happen, but I was touched by her gesture.) There were the many drivers who honked and gave me thumbs up and all those drivers on the busier highways who would slow down and move into the other lane in order to offer me safe clearance.

I could offer so many examples, but the takeaway I wish to make is that we are, as a nation, essentially kind. In this time when we tend to emphasize our differences and our divisions, it often is forgotten that we also have the capacity to be kind, generous, and considerate. Of course, this isn’t a unique quality of America, but these are human qualities that can be found wherever one chooses to bicycle (or otherwise travel). While some of my takeaways from this journey undermine my faith in humanity’s future, I am encouraged by these random acts of kindness, generosity, and consideration. We can rise above our petty squabbles to recognize in the other a shared humanity.

~Tom

Full Circle (and Welcome Back Tom!)

Tom’s welcome party cheers him up Morse Road as he arrives home at last!

September 15, 2022

Here we are on the cusp of another seasonal shift. The endless heat wave has at last cooled to breezy fall-ish days and cool nights. We are once again watching night time lows and closing up the greenhouses for cooler nights. Small seedlings are attentively watched and cared for and certain crops are kept covered to protect them from hungry deer and small animals. 

Perhaps the biggest shift this past week has been Tom’s celebrated return! A small crowd gathered on Morse Road last Wednesday evening and cheered as Tom rode up the drive on his bicycle. It was a happy homecoming and we all stood chatting until the sun had fully set. An exhausted Tom probably had the best night’s sleep he’d had in months that night.

A few days later, many of the sheep and lambs returned to the farm. On their first night home, they managed to find their way out of the barn and into the lush fields where they happily gobbled up the chard we had recently nursed back to health. Every. Single. Plant. Alas, the CSA will not see a return of chard to the shares this season.

Sadly, the much beloved Rutabaga, one of the oldest of the ewes, passed away just a day later after an illness. My daughter, who had befriended this sheep early on in our farm days, has been mourning the loss alongside Tom. As Tom has often said, farming teaches you about death, as it is an inevitable part of life, which cycles through the farm constantly. Full circle.

On the joyful turn of the circle, we’re excited to share the bounty of autumn with our farm community. We’ve got carrots in the ground that will soon reach their full sweetness as the nighttime temperatures cool, our fall kale is lush and delicious, and the scallions that had yellowed and wilted in the heat have perked up and grown beautifully after Jason’s application of comfrey tea. We’re harvesting storage onions, winter squash, and soon potatoes and are looking forward to plentiful shares over the final 6 weeks. I’m savoring the cool breezy workdays and looking forward to enjoying pumpkin pie and hot soup as the weather continues to cool and the leaves begin to change. Are you ready for autumn? What seasonal shifts are you feeling this week?

Friends are reacquainted as we await Tom’s arrival at the farm
The bicycle gets a rest at last as Tom greets family and friends of all ages