Yesterday, we three of Fair Mountain Farm walked to get the mail together, as per usual. “The family that walks to the mail together, stays together,” Tona says. I received more mail than anyone else, perhaps a sign that I haven’t fallen off the face of the planet here in Idaho. My secret lover, Raymond James, sent word of financial failings (Why do I have mutual funds anyway? Shouldn’t I be investing in land?), an auntie sent along some information on new tomato varieties, and a women’s clothing catalog was mixed in as well. This last offers some slight moment of feminine imaginings, dust and dirt being my usual trappings.

Our lives continue to meld into such familial moments here at Fair Mountain Farm, and delightfully so. With typically six solid work days together, of hours beyond those contained in a office cubicle, we find a daily vibe to interaction. One of us may be rather tired, another full of energy for a new discussion topic. Mostly, we ebb and flow through the day just as the wind will breeze or bluster. Harvesting in the cooler morning hours sees us eager to get a fresh start, a cup of coffee just enough to scissor through the crops rapidly. Conversation may drop off a tad in the afternoon, increasing summer heat focusing the majority of our energies into the physical demands of the work. Our ‘work week’ tends to end family style, seated around a late evening super table and chowing down after the farmers market, the culmination to our week’s endeavors.

Today Clarence remarked upon the roles we have each settled into with the rhythm of our weekly sales. While it can be convenient and efficient for one person to manage specific aspects of the work, I’m not entirely the child laborer typical of farm families a century ago. I’m here to work hard as well as learn the whole kit and caboodle of what it’s like to make a life and making a living through farming.

So today we discussed some theoretical math, otherwise known as sales projections. Having been a language major in college, I’m generally capable with numbers not in excess of 50. An intensively planted half-acre farm is mostly kind to me in this respect. One 50-foot (by 30-inch) row of arugula can be broken down into serving two farmers market days. A first cutting will give one roughly 18 pounds from half the row, which will be broken down into 50 one-quarter pound bags to sell at market, and various other 1/2 and 3 lb bags for private clients and chefs. At $5 per quarter pound, and with potentially four cuttings from the row before it bolts . . . this is where my story problem skills perform better with a calculator.

Anticipating weekly sales remains a ‘family’ affair, wherein all three of us consider past sales and attempt to project what will occur next. The Stilwill’s depth of experience directs our decisions intelligently, sometimes optimistically, sometimes conservatively. And so we navigate our lovely life on the farm, hashing out how many pounds to cut of this, and what to do about this or that. The integration makes the work feel like a home.