I find it no small coincidence that various meanings of the word “practice” are constructed from the same root. We “practice” yoga. We “practice” religion. We “practice” medicine. We “practice” meditation. Et cetera ad infinitum. Because, when you get down to the core of it, we are just practicing living, aren’t we? We learn and grow from experience and mistakes, and then do it again, but (hopefully) better. Everything is practice.
It’s hard to believe somedays that we have been practicing farming here on this land for 16 years. There are so many moving parts to running an organic market farm. The inner workings of so many moving parts often reside only in our heads after 16 years of practice. They’re so embedded there that we don’t even realize they’re there until we decide to leave in the middle of the season and we’re trying to prepare the farmily for our absence.
This is the first time we’ve ever left the farm in July and it felt monumental. I might need more practice in taking vacation in July, but the farmily, of course, handled everything beautifully while Jason and I got away to practice our hobby (which, of course, needs more practice).