Ok, before you read any further, fair warning – this one’s going to sound a little woo-woo.

If that’s not your thing, feel free to skip today’s note (no hard feelings, I promise).

A couple of days ago, I wrote about our trusty, grand dame Denali, she’s been through thick and thin with us.

But before her, we had an old Chevy Astro van.

You know the one, the boxy type that could hold six people, with those captain’s chairs in the back that made you feel like you were flying first class… circa 1995.

We bought her used (of course) and she became the heartbeat of our learning center back in Montclair.

At the time, we ran STEM enrichment programs for elementary and middle school students, everything from robotics and chess to engineering challenges, and provided high-level math and science tutoring for high school and college students.

We also ran a very popular in-house STEM summer camp, which was always buzzing with projects, laughter, and way too many snack breaks.

(If you can imagine a room filled with LEGO robots and half-eaten granola bars, that was our happy place.)

Our little van ferried our team of brilliant high school assistants, kids who went on to top-tier universities and amazing careers, from school to school for those enrichment programs.

It was such a fun, energetic time in our early business years .. probably 30 years ago now (which doesn’t even feel real).

Eventually, we sold our learning center in Montclair and decided to downsize and move to Point Pleasant Beach.

During that last summer camp season, we slowly hauled our personal and business things down to the new place.

And on the very last day, of the very last load, our Chevy made it to the driveway, we unloaded everything, and then, poof, she died.

Right there in the driveway.

After her final run.

Can you believe that?

She gave us every last ounce she had, right to the finish line.

And here’s the woo-woo part: I wasn’t raised with any particular religion, but I do believe in something greater, that the universe sometimes nudges things along for you.

On that day, I really believe it was looking out for us.

That wasn’t the first “coincidence” like that in our lives, but it’s the one that stuck with me.

And yes, I’m one of those people who believes in manifesting and positive energy along with good old-fashioned hard work.

(Not to be preachy, but I think the “manifest and chill” crowd forgets the “get up and do the work” part.)

And maybe that’s what I love most about farming, it’s the perfect blend of faith and work.

You plant, you nurture, you believe something beautiful will grow… even when you can’t see it yet.

That’s manifesting and hard work all rolled into one dirt-filled, hopeful package.

Happenings on the Farm
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The 30 peonies are arriving today!

And honestly, I couldn’t be happier, even if it means I have to dig (and dig, and dig).

I can already picture those fat, fragrant blooms in spring, and it’s enough to keep me going through the back pain.

Cleanup around the field continues, slowly but surely. Maybe, just maybe, this long, mild fall will give me enough time to actually finish before the bitter cold sets in for the long term.

Once the peonies are tucked in, I’ll start protecting the roses.

My method’s simple: mound up compost around the base of each plant to guard against the cold, but no pruning until the forsythia blooms in spring.

(The roses seem to prefer that schedule, and frankly, so do I.)

And Since You Didn’t Ask…
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How are you handling the pitch-black darkness that rolls in at 4:30 p.m.?

I’m still trying to figure out what to do with all these post-sunset hours between “it’s dark already?!” and bedtime.

It’s far too early to sleep and way too late for anything requiring brain power. So far, I’ve mastered the art of aimless puttering and tea refills.