Green beans at Cardamom County

When we see an abundant harvest overflowing from a wheelbarrow, maybe it’s primal, but I think there is a sense of never going hungry. There is a sense of the aliveness of freshly picked food.

Remember how we used to share our food? Remember the connection to food we had before it came from chain grocery stores? I think something in us does. Or something in us wants to remember.

By simply putting out our hand, the food passes into our possession, but it’s a different kind of possession than picking up something in a supermarket and putting it in a cart. A possession isn’t really yours, which happened without the exchange of money. I think that the natural givingness of the land makes us feel like it is not really ours and that it is for everyone, meant to be shared. When I harvest, I remember this gift. I like sharing it with other people.

Since I have been here as an intern, I haven’t done all that much field work. This is probably the first day I’ve been able to help just by providing extra hands. I felt like it was a way to connect with the people I am working with as language barrier has stopped us. I appreciate the togetherness that can be felt by simply harvesting something together. They are teaching me Malayalam words and using the English words they know.

I am wondering if there is a way to connect the guests that come to this hotel with the fresh food. Maybe a pick your own garden salad option on the menu? Maybe just labeling when something comes from the farm? This is an idea I have been thinking about.