We have reached the end of the school year, much to our collective— or maybe just my– dismay. On Sunday students who have sweat through four (or more) years will happily prance across a stage in the due ceremony of Graduation. You are like ripe pomegranates dropped willingly from their stem, swollen with memories and bursting with wisdom, sweet and ready to bless the world with promise. But remember, friends! Diplomas are just sheets of paper. They are mere pebbles compared to the monuments of friendship and the mountains of love. Keep those close, instead. So to all of you who are graduating, best of luck, and remember that Sunday is just another day in the grand scheme of things.
The farm would like to bid farewell to five beloved seniors who have left their mark on these twisting paths: Mr. Jon, the chicken man, Dakota, bug woman, Lucas, the sasser, Alana, tomato-picker, and Nissa, lady of puppets (these are honorable titles, to be sure, as they are bestowed with utmost affection). We will miss their lively spirits and they will be kept in memory along with all the other ghosts embedded in these trees, to be welcomed warmly back, if in one year or twenty. To those who remain: rejoice! Summer is here and with it the sunny abundance of eggplant and tomatoes, the sweet crunch of cucumbers, the soft buttery texture of baked summer squash. We will be waiting for you under peach-laden branches and fig-growing twigs, where the sun isn’t quite so harsh and the air isn’t quite so dry.
To this end, friends, this week there will be nothing. No workshops, no volunteer hours. We will be making space for the sweet and hollow ringing of goodbyes. If it all seems like too much, please come on down and find solace in a juicy peach and a companion in the beady eyes of a squirrel. For they, and we, endure.