Dogs waiting for Elio
Two gates, one that swings out and one that swings in, greet me at 8:30 am every weekday morning. Two dogs wag anxiously as they wait for my car door to open and my untied bootlaces to hit the gravel drive. Charlie, the shorter one, hops in first, Bodhi, the more reserved, follows. Although we’re only traveling twenty feet to clear the gate and park under the walnut tree, this is consistently the best thing ever (at least they told me so).
“Miles Away Farm’
‘Farm Fresh Eggs’
‘Home Grown Goodness’”, read the signs.
It’s early July and I’m hot from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep. This morning breeze weaves through my newly buzzcut hairs as the tiny bits of gravel spray out from under my bootsoles like a lawn sprinkler. I enter through the garage and greet Jennifer, the farm owner, before making my way to the coop. The donkeys bray for attention as I walk by their pen–I leave their care to Jennifer…they still intimidate me.
The towering coop door rolls along its track as I heave and pull it open; birds spill out with a ruckus. Turkeys, chickens, and ducks rush out into the pasture with a cloud of dust and debris. I hold my breath for a few seconds until the air settles. Birds are dirty–there’s no way around it. A white five-gallon bucket rests atop a rusted metal barrel full of feed; five scoops from an old coffee can while a curious hen watches me carefully. I have the attention of so many birds at this moment, they’ve waited all night for their trough to refill, and it is my job to make sure the food is distributed evenly. I begin with too heavy of a pour and have to readjust as my feet shuffle through woodshavings, chickens stand directly in the way, pellets cascade down feathers, and they scratch their way into breakfast. Next up: egg collecting. I grab a dollar store easter basket and make my rounds; the black hen lets me retrieve eggs from underneath her without pecking–today is going to be a good day. A turkey is nestled in the corner with a few eggs, but I have to check and make sure that no one else has tried to capitalize on free incubation. A sorry chicken’s attempt is clear when I spot a pale blue egg plopped a few feet away from the nesting box, these birds sure do keep you on your toes. I fill the water station to the brim before I leave for the garden and meet up with Jennifer near the house.
“We’re harvesting garlic today!” she reveals.
Oh boy, I think. There’s a lot of garlic…
. . .
My car chokes up as it starts, this heat is hard on machines too. I turn right out of the drive and notice my dirt-caked nails and achey hands. One full bed harvested and set out to dry in the greenhouse. The euphoria of a successful harvest is so very satisfying, and this is my first true time experiencing this feeling. I realize as I turn onto Old Highway 12 that I want to feel this again and again.
What Miles Away Farm has been for me is beyond what I could have ever imagined an internship to be. Caring for a garden, farmstand, commercial kitchen, and keeping animals is exhausting and meticulous work; yet, if approached with the right mindset, the proper skillset, and a resourceful mind, it is highly rewarding work. Jennifer has opened up her home, her mind, and her livelihood for my benefit, and I am wildly grateful.
Experiences like Elio’s are made possible by the Whitman Internship Grant, which provides funding for students to participate in unpaid internships at nonprofit, some for-profit, and government organizations. We are happy to be sharing blog posts from students who were supported by either a summer, fall, spring, or year-long grants at organizations, businesses, and research labs all around the world. To learn how you could secure a Whitman Internship Grant or host a Whitman intern at your organization, contact us at ccec_info@whitman.edu.