What a blast from the past. Our friend Ward (who's taken to calling himself "Wardo" in comments to this blog) sent these pictures along from when he and Emily worked on an organic farm together in the spring, summer, and fall of 2004. A Yankee girl driving a tractor? If that's not Oklachusetts Gothic, I don't know what is. That year we ate like peasants (by which I mean we ate like royalty), pulling fresh sugar snap peas off of the vine and eating them standing up in the fields (I visited often); tugging ripe strawberries up from the ground; eating asparagus right off the stalk. During lunch, Emily, Will, Verena, Lucas, and Ward (what a crew!), would laze around a picnic table and eat farmers' sandwiches of cheese, tomatoes, lettuce on whole wheat bread. Sometimes they let me hang around, when I wasn't working at the now defunct Someday Cafe in Davis Square. The steam and burnt grounds and disgruntled customers of a coffee shop seemed a cruel counterpoint to the sunshine and dirt and bugs on the farm. As we settle in to new routines, we hope we don't forget this ancient way of living that's too often forgotten, and we hope Emmett won't be too quick to join the hubbub. Even though that summer seems far away now, we try to retain the spirit of Lindentree Farm in our lives by believing that we are what we eat, and our son is, too (alas, too often the three of us are take-out). But Emmett, the sun and the rain and the dirt made some organic matter grow until we plucked it and ate it and slowly, slowly transformed it into you. If anybody ever asks what you are, tell them proudly you are a Brussels sprout.