As we embrace the daily adventure that is the weather forecast of a Central Oregon Spring, we celebrate the unique beauty of living in an area with four distinct seasons. Winter, while seeming to linger, prepares the soil for a time of growth…allowing rest, cleansing, and scrubbing away the colors of Autumn…so that the green blush of Spring spreads across the blank paper like a wash of watercolor. We notice with gratitude, these early days that bring a surprise of warmth, the air feeling soft against our long- covered skin. From forgotten memories, of ancestors who survived on the gifts of the land, we remember the signs that tell us it is time… we feel the pull to work the soil…to reach into the cool, rich earth…to plant…to produce. It is a restlessness that not all will understand when the winds of Spring blow. But for those who are connected to the land, it is a calling…it is time.
As you drive the narrow side roads of Central Oregon, you will see the signs of preparation. Soil is being worked, fields smoothed, water darkens and holds the dirt that the wind tries to loosen and carry from one field to the next. Tender sprigs poke out, anxious for the warmth of the sun and then learn patience as they are hardened by the frosty nights. But during the short days and long nights of Winter, another type of preparation took place. It is the planning, forecasting, researching, and praying, that goes into deciding what will be planted in which fields. How many acres? Which genetics? What will the market look like? Will there be enough water? Will legislation change the future of our crop? Should we buy crop insurance or gamble that we won’t have another freak hailstorm? Some of these decisions we can control, and others will keep us up at night…some decisions will be right, and some will not. But the desire to grow remains and the rewards from producing something from the soil fills that yearning inside that afflicts so many of us who love farming and the way of life that comes from Agriculture. It is time…see you in the field!
-Pam