It is amazing to note, around Spring Equinox, how much there is to eat that has survived Winter: purple sprouting broccoli, collards, kale, all manner of other brassicas going to flower and still good; straggler rainbow chard; the last of the carrots and other odd roots in cold storage; some perennial herbs; and likely a few onions and garlic still kicking around in the dry room…

Another farm season begins just as we metabolize the last of the previous.

This was a personal harvest today from the organic farm I’ve just started work at on the Olympic Peninsula.

My job is to lead the packshed operations (harvesting, washing, packing produce) with a small team until December.

The farm is more mechanized than anywhere I’ve worked before, and has several sales outlets: farmer’s markets, a CSA, and local wholesale to the farmstand, co-op, and food pantry.

I expect there is much for me to learn here.

I have been struggling inside my brain lately, though, feeling pretty depressed and anxious.

New work, new housing, new social environment as the new season unfurls — overstimulated and lonely at the same time — the big return to America and capitalism — echoes of past Springtime traumas resounding — missing Scotland — missing Oregon — the psychic weight of Everything Going On — it’s too much right now.

A stranger fixes me with a cold gaze and suddenly I am too conspicuous, visibly queer and visibly autistic again.

Suddenly I am grieving again.

I’ve been utilizing the local public library as a safe space, plus thrift stores, the indie movie theatre in town, and the beautiful creek near my house.

Watching quite a few movies in bed too.

Tomorrow I will drive out to the Olympics and go on a long hike to try and awaken my body to the reality of Spring.

Please remember to take good care of yourselves, my friends, and to do a little extra for someone around you too as you can.

Times are tough but so are we.