Where’s the Dill?
It's 3pm on Tuesday and Andrew hasn’t gotten back to me about the produce list for the week. I start to feel nervous, wondering if all is ok and what I’ll do if he doesn’t respond to me. We count on his produce every week. It’s a wild thing. Being able to count on each other like we do. We don’t take a break if something happens, we keep going.
I call Andrew again. He answers the phone, “I’m sorry Kali, I have to call you back, ok? I’m so sorry. I’ll call you later.” I tell him it’s totally ok, and l get off the phone quickly, to give him space, still nervous about our ability to get produce. Maybe I was too quick. I hung up and realized his voice was different, it sounded like he was crying, and something big happened.
Every week something big happens on the farm. Whether it’s a piece of equipment that breaks down, or a group of employees walking off because they don’t want to pull weeds by hand. There’s always a hurdle to get through, and somehow we still get our beautiful produce.
I hear it every week. Whether Gene is handling the fruit farm the best he can through climate change….David’s Petaluma farm is on hold because of the drought….or Andrew loses a crop due to the weather or other organic issues, and so on.
Andrew calls me at 10:30pm. I’m amazed I’m still awake.
“HI, what’s going on? Are you ok?”
He tells me the devastating news that his long time friend on the farm, and family member of several people on the farm, passed away in a motorcycle accident. We agree to put a hold on talking about vegetables until tomorrow, as we closely approach our order deadline. We love vegetables, and we have a lot of fun talking to each other about them. We laugh for hours sometimes. We put it all aside this time. He finishes the call with a little excitement to tell me he has green beans.
The truck delivers to us on Friday, but our dill is missing. I call Andrew, who’s perplexed as to how the dill could go missing. “I put it on the pallet myself,” he says. He tells the team to pick more dill and we agree I’ll take an extra trip to pick it up at their Silver Lake farmers market the next morning. I drive from Petaluma Friday night, where I’m visiting on a food adventure, and I arrive at the Silver Lake market in the morning. The dill was missing again. I call Andrew who calls Jesus. At this point they’ve picked all the dill they can, and the best they can do is give me 4 different herbs to fulfill the order, since they don’t have enough of just one.
“That sounds great.” I say, excited that some of our customers will get to have shiso this week. They went above and beyond.
Jesus drove in his pick up truck from the farm all the way in Santa Barbara, to our headquarters with half an hour to spare before we left for deliveries. Jesus gives me a gift for the team. It was a big box of gorgeous, red strawberries. “I’m so sorry about this'', he says. “It was such a hard week on the farm with the death of my Nephew.”
I look into his deeply sweet eyes, and offer my condolences the best I know how to. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for them, to run a farm as efficiently as they do, while grieving a family member.
Every bit of organic food we have on our table is a miracle.
Be Well,
Kali Star
