A Note from Lindsay

I remember the day my husband and I moved from our downtown Indianapolis condominium to a quaint apartment in East Thetford like it was yesterday. Four years ago on June 1, 2011, my husband and I, along with our mothers and one sibling, were sweating bullets unloading boxes and furniture on an uncharacteristically hot June morning. I walked up the stairs to our new apartment in the 90 degree heat searching for the air conditioning dial on the wall. I walked carefully from room to room, perplexed, until it dawned on me: there was no air conditioning. I told myself that I was adaptable to such a dramatic change in summer lifestyle, and our little apartment promptly became a wind tunnel of fans of varying sizes. Though seemingly insignificant, that day was monumental, as it foreshadowed the theme of my experience in the Upper Valley: simplification. Now, having lived in the Upper Valley for four years, I realize that much of what I had previously deemed essential to living in modern society is not so essential after all. In fact, the absence of some modern amenities, such as air conditioning, underscored the importance of needed simplification and was the first of many lifestyle changes on my horizon. The second, and perhaps most influential, was food.

I grew up in suburban, central Indiana. My understanding of local farming was not surprisingly based on 2 crops: corn and soy. The terms “local,” “CSA”, and “sustainable” were not a part of my vocabulary, because all of my shopping was primarily done at one of the chain supermarkets in the city. However, that changed when we moved to Vermont. Living in the village of East Thetford for our first two years in the area drastically altered our outlook on food and its role in shaping a community. If I’m honest, it felt a bit like we were on the set of Little House on the Prairie, minus the outfits; we frequently found ourselves walking to a cute little local farm called Cedar Circle Farm with a basket over our shoulder, where we bought milk in glass bottles, tasted tomatoes in sizes and colors unlike any we had ever seen or tasted, and experimented with several vegetables that looked quite foreign but tasted delicious (I’m positive I pronounced celeriac wrong every time I asked someone at the farmstand how to use it). Gradually, the menu at our home changed for the better, as did my husband’s and my understanding of food systems. Now, I can’t imagine thinking of food in any way other than local, organic, and sustainable.

I am elated to be working on the farm that forever impacted the way I perceive, interact with, and talk about food. While my career background is in education and teaching, my heart and passion lay in nourishing the body and soul, which is why communicating this farm’s story and purpose is so dear to me. My position here is officially titled “Outreach and Communication Coordinator,” which means that I will wear many hats (both figuratively and literally). You will often find me working in our office, as well as coordinating volunteers and logistics at our harvest festivals. I anticipate a great year here at the farm, and I’m honored to play a small part in its mission.