​Farming is hard.  Seems obvious I guess, but in these times of global pandemic uncertainty, it feels more difficult.  Here in northern New Mexico, spring has arrived which is always beautiful and terrifying. We are in the high desert and we don’t know if this frost is the last frost, at least into June.  Our tender young plant babies might be smited by an inexplicable cold front if we bet the wrong way.  Do we put the row cover on?  Do we turn on the heat lights?  Fans? Most of the time we guess correctly, sometimes not - it is always a couple of months of anxiety. We plant, some days in perfect, seventy-degree weather.  Most of the time though, it is hot and windy or cold and windy, but always reliably windy. We watch the snow capped mountains and wonder how long the snowpack will take to get to our fields, if at all.  But really, those are the regular problems. This year we have a whole different challenge that I would have never imagined - which I suppose is the nature of most problems – you never see them coming. 
 
I have been fielding calls for the last six weeks about produce pickup.  “Can you deliver?”  “Can I pay online?”  “Can I come to the farm?”  It is dizzying.  And it makes me happy.  People are starting to see us.  The stay-at-home orders, the quarantines and the business closures have brought a realization of exactly how fragile our food system is.  Farmers are dumping milk and tomatoes in some parts of the country, and in other places lines are forming at food pantries with people who have never had to use that type of service before now.  In the first week of social distancing I allowed a couple to come to our farm and pick up some spinach.  I tried to discourage the wife over the phone, but she insisted it would be nice for them to get out of the house and make the drive.  When they arrived, the woman hopped out of the SUV and greeted my mom with a handshake, which my mom enthusiastically reciprocated.  In the seconds that followed her husband opened his car door and screamed at them, “No shaking hands!”  This was before we were all wearing masks and gloves – the new normal was not normal to us yet.  The guy was basically a jerk, he kept yelling at his wife that we were taking too long.  It was extremely uncomfortable for all of us and particularly for her.  Subsequent pick up at the farm requests were turned down.
 
There have been silver linings though.  Our plants can’t grow fast enough to meet the demand – we are selling everything.  Families are starting cook at home.  People are being polite to each other at the farmers’ market.   The public is starting to understand where their food comes from.  And we are taking advance pickup orders and doing deliveries for people who are particularly vulnerable and really can’t leave their homes.  It is a time of possibilities.  And struggle. We are struggling along with everyone else though, and that is new.  As it turns out, it is hard times for everybody.