This past Monday I spent the morning planting tomatoes in warm fertile soil inside a heated greenhouse. It was cold outside and there was over a foot of snow on the ground, but I was wearing a t-shirt and sweating as I squatted down and planted 11 plants in each bed (at precise staggered 2 foot intervals). The previous Sunday I was wearing a t-shirt outdoors and planting root crops (carrots and beets interplanted with radishes to mark the rows) in the raised and plastic covered garden beds in the garden at the Isabella Freedman Jewish Retreat Center. This is the first year that I’ve ever had the privilege to be planting in soil so early in the season.

So what is season extension you might ask? Season extension is just a fancy term that farmers call anything that allows us to plant or harvest longer that we normally can. Usually it means using row covers or plastic hoops over our field crops or erecting large greenhouses or cold-frames (unheated greenhouse structures). Season extension is both an economic necessity for the small farmer and a opportunity to add immense joy into my life. The extra months of harvest that we can squeeze out of our fields with plastic covers over the rows (some farmers in the Northeast will sow root crops in November and harvest in January or later with long plastic hoops over their rows) allow farmers in the Northeast to earn much needed income in the colder months. Once a week I intern at a farm that grows organic tomatoes in heated greenhouses about 10 months of the year, extending their harvest times for tomatoes from late spring all the way into the early winter, almost double the normal harvest time in the region.

Though I’ve spent the last four summers working outdoors, this is the first year that I’ve finally been engaged in work that’s rooted in the soil for the entire season, instead of leaving school in May to start work. The other name of Passover, Chag HaAviv (Festival of Spring) has taken on a new meaning for me. To spend 2 days in March planting in soil, even though not quite outdoors, is something very special. By digging my hands into our raised garden beds and feeling the warm soil loosened by my tiller and enriched with thick black compost I can feel the Earth waking up. Today I took a walk down to our Sadeh (field) and walked over the last inch of snow and ice that covering our sleeping beauty. All the energy that our plants stored away last fall to make it through the cold of winter is used up, and everything is ready to burst out of the ground and start turning sunlight into food and energy. Our fruit trees are budding and the maple sap is flowing through the trees and into our buckets to be collected and boiled down to syrup.

Spring is a very, very exciting time around the farm with all the seeding that goes on. The onions that I seeded last month have all germinated and I’ve moved on through leeks, shallots, kale, collards, broccoli and cabbages. This week brings beets and yes, the first succession of tomatoes and peppers will fainlly be seeded; some of my favorite crops, not to mention the 1000+ flowers I’ve seeded these last few weeks to beautify our retreat center and fields.

Amid all this excitement, getting ready for field season, cleaning for Passover, and moving out of this heated house and into my unheated cabin with it’s nearby deluxe composting toilet (ah, Exodus!), there is still time for study. Yesterday I sat in the greenhouse with a colleague and studied the first portion of Leviticus, the third book of the Torah that we began reading this week. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Torah, but Leviticus has always been a little tough for me. Lots of rules, regulations, grisly animal sacrifice and very few interesting stories of family feuds, slavery, redemption, etc. Just lots of unblemished animals being brought before God and the priests for atonement and incense burning. As we read through the portion surrounded by the excitement of spring in the greenhouse, we asked, what are all these laws and regulations trying to teach us today?

Perhaps all of these rules and regulations are there to temper our exuberance in these season of almost unmitigated joy and remind us that their are still some things greater than ourselves and still some forms to fill out. Yes, you can seed thousands of tiny plant seeds, just make sure you fill out the seeding charts. Yes, you can start tilling up the earth and preparing your fields, but make sure you follow your crop plan. And yes, you can run and jump and play, but in case you do something wrong on the way, there is an action you can take to make things right (though I’ll pass on the ritual sacrifice and maybe just pray a little extra). Perhaps we start reading all these laws and regulations in this season of springtime to remind us to go about our springtime rebirth with a deep respect and reverence for those things that are bigger than ourselves.

As for me, that is why I choose to work with the seeds and plants and animals. Deadlines in school were never a real motivator for me. Teachers will wait, they’ll accepts papers late, give partial credit, etc, etc. Plants and animals don’t wait. If I don’t water in the morning, or Aitan doesn’t feeds his goats, we can’t just do it later. It’s not like skipping a morning in the office and having a load of e-mails and messages to deal with. I can’t explain to my little onion transplants that I was a little under the weather this morning and I’ll deal with them after lunch. Though these plants wouldn’t be growing had I not seeded and watered them them, once the process has begun it waits for no man, woman or child. More than any other work I’ve ever done, growing plants roots me in my Earth, my religion, and my seasons with a deep sense of purpose.

May we all be blessed with a Chag Kasher V’Sameyach, a Happy and Healthy Festival of Spring!