Know your farmer. I moved from market to market around New York City and Brooklyn, eying radishes in the Spring, indulging in fresh eggs, sampling honey and loading my bag with apples in the Fall. I loved food, but I loved eating more. And I loved losing myself in the freshness of the farmers’ fine offerings. I liked knowing who my dollar went to and liked the feeling of eating things that I could tell came from the ground. But it wasn’t enough...

The following reflections are from May 11, 2013. I arrived on an organic farm in Northeast Connecticut in late April and tried to keep a written record of my experiences from the start. But with 14 hour work days I eventually barely had energy to tuck myself into bed at night, and my writing dwindled. Here I revisit some feelings of triumph after my first couple weeks emerged in food from the ground up...