Nearly three full weeks of outdoor markets have gone by. What?!
I started out just packing up my truck and taking it to market but soon discovered I needed more room, especially now that we're filling lots of orders through the Friends & Farmers Cooperative online market. Nearly 100 pounds of potatoes + pies + eggs + cookies + tent + table + weights, etc. isn't really what a CRV was built for. My farmer advised me to learn how to drive one of the white box trucks they use on the farm for markets, deliveries and such. He said if I felt comfortable behind the wheel, I could use it by myself for every market instead of waiting until June or so until the family joins me with additional produce.
At first, I felt a little uneasy about it. In my mind, I remembered the truck being much bigger than it actually is. I was picturing myself behind the wheel of a mack with black smoke rolling out behind me. But I started thinking to myself, "If you're going to live on a farm for the rest of your life, you can't let a truck intimidate you." So we made a date night out of my maiden voyage in the truck (I know, so romantic!) and drove to Lock Haven and back, plus a little extra. We drove on highway and back country roads, parking lots and teensy weensy neighborhood lanes. I even spent a solid half an hour aligning the truck up to a loading dock at a supermarket over and over. At one point during the evening, Mark said something along the lines of,
"I couldn't have done that any better myself," and I felt my heart swell with pride.
It isn't so much learning how to drive the truck itself; it's what the truck represents to me. That truck is a symbol of the trust between Mark's family and me. A woman has never driven a vehicle on the farm until now, let alone one of the market trucks.
I don't even share their last name yet, but Mark's father didn't hesitate when it came to adding my name to the insurance so that I can drive the farm vehicles. I don't know how to begin to describe how that feels.
It may not seem significant, but to me it means the world.
I started out just packing up my truck and taking it to market but soon discovered I needed more room, especially now that we're filling lots of orders through the Friends & Farmers Cooperative online market. Nearly 100 pounds of potatoes + pies + eggs + cookies + tent + table + weights, etc. isn't really what a CRV was built for. My farmer advised me to learn how to drive one of the white box trucks they use on the farm for markets, deliveries and such. He said if I felt comfortable behind the wheel, I could use it by myself for every market instead of waiting until June or so until the family joins me with additional produce.
At first, I felt a little uneasy about it. In my mind, I remembered the truck being much bigger than it actually is. I was picturing myself behind the wheel of a mack with black smoke rolling out behind me. But I started thinking to myself, "If you're going to live on a farm for the rest of your life, you can't let a truck intimidate you." So we made a date night out of my maiden voyage in the truck (I know, so romantic!) and drove to Lock Haven and back, plus a little extra. We drove on highway and back country roads, parking lots and teensy weensy neighborhood lanes. I even spent a solid half an hour aligning the truck up to a loading dock at a supermarket over and over. At one point during the evening, Mark said something along the lines of,
"I couldn't have done that any better myself," and I felt my heart swell with pride.
It isn't so much learning how to drive the truck itself; it's what the truck represents to me. That truck is a symbol of the trust between Mark's family and me. A woman has never driven a vehicle on the farm until now, let alone one of the market trucks.
I don't even share their last name yet, but Mark's father didn't hesitate when it came to adding my name to the insurance so that I can drive the farm vehicles. I don't know how to begin to describe how that feels.
It may not seem significant, but to me it means the world.
After I graduated from college and started working in the food industry, this desire to be part of a team took hold of me. I think that desire existed even before when I was an art student, but from my experience, art making was very much a solo endeavor and rarely did people collaborate. When collaborations did happen it was usually between two people. Typically a class requirement was the only thing that could unite a larger group of people in art school. I became accustomed to working on my own, and even preferred it as I think most creative types do. I still prefer working alone, which is why this secret desire I have is difficult to explain. Don't worry, I'll make my point eventually.
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During my brief stint at the Penn State Bakery, I worked in a production situation. The prep list would include things like 60 full sheet trays of brownies, 120 dozen chocolate chip cookies and a gazillion and one whoopie pies. Every task required a team. Most days I felt surprisingly fulfilled in that situation. There was a great sense of accomplishment at the end of each day for me. We went through the same motions daily so for the most part, it was a well oiled machine. Every work situation has flaws, but there was something reassuring about working alongside very different people all moving in the same direction.
Then for a time, I thought I had finally found the perfect union of creativity, teamwork and independence at my last bakery job.
It was a small artisan bakery with only a handful of employees, so there was often a mix of working together and working alone. I remember one of the first times I helped with bread production and I quickly caught on to shaping the loaves. There were three of us working on the same bench at times, each with his or her own particular touch, but all of us moving deftly through each step - a well choreographed ballet of adrenaline, focus and flour. Perhaps I'm idealizing it now, but there are moments when I miss that and I wish it could have lasted. Or rather, that it had actually existed the way I describe it. In reality, I was rarely helping with bread production because I was the girl and therefore, I belonged in the pastry corner. I wish the whole experience hadn't been undercut by disorganization, unprofessionalism and testosterone laden bouts of competition and harassment.
But it's useless to yearn for something that never was.
Then for a time, I thought I had finally found the perfect union of creativity, teamwork and independence at my last bakery job.
It was a small artisan bakery with only a handful of employees, so there was often a mix of working together and working alone. I remember one of the first times I helped with bread production and I quickly caught on to shaping the loaves. There were three of us working on the same bench at times, each with his or her own particular touch, but all of us moving deftly through each step - a well choreographed ballet of adrenaline, focus and flour. Perhaps I'm idealizing it now, but there are moments when I miss that and I wish it could have lasted. Or rather, that it had actually existed the way I describe it. In reality, I was rarely helping with bread production because I was the girl and therefore, I belonged in the pastry corner. I wish the whole experience hadn't been undercut by disorganization, unprofessionalism and testosterone laden bouts of competition and harassment.
But it's useless to yearn for something that never was.
In any case, I'm off the bench again and part of a new team. The Ardry Team. The "A" Team. A family team is different. There is an underlining sense of loyalty that connects everything. Even though there might be days full of tension, the obligation to contribute and do right by each other remains. I am finally the only woman in a group of men who actually care about me deeply, respect me and believe in my ability to contribute and do good work. I don't think Mark's father and brothers will ever fully understand how much their support has affected my life. It's not only a different team, it's a different game.
Thus far, I'm truly enjoying my new position behind the wheel, feeling all Furiosa as I drive the war rig...I mean box truck, from market to market. Don't worry, I don't actually drive Mad Max style. I only drive that way in my mind :) Even though the season is just beginning, I have high hopes for this new adventure. I'm learning something new everyday. Everyday, my eyes open a bit wider, my timidity diminishes that much more and my faith in the future deepens.
This rookie is ready for what comes next.
Thus far, I'm truly enjoying my new position behind the wheel, feeling all Furiosa as I drive the war rig...I mean box truck, from market to market. Don't worry, I don't actually drive Mad Max style. I only drive that way in my mind :) Even though the season is just beginning, I have high hopes for this new adventure. I'm learning something new everyday. Everyday, my eyes open a bit wider, my timidity diminishes that much more and my faith in the future deepens.
This rookie is ready for what comes next.
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