When you think about home, what comes to mind? The promise of comfort, routine and contentment? A warm shower, a kettle atop the wood stove or tea before bed? It seems for a lot of folks that “home” is made of such niceties, but I could never quite find that sense of peace in such things.

What about work? Is it just a state you find yourself in from 9-5 or that place you must go in order to get the things you want? Is it your craft or simply your rung in that chain of command? Some live for their work, some work solely so they may live. Both are noble, but for me, work has often helped me feel full.

I came to Red Dog Farm just two months ago. Early in June I set out from North Carolina with visions of the northwest: three months later I found myself driving north through the fog on Highway 19, eyes peeled for that Red Dog sign. Only a couple of weeks before I’d been slowly meandering along the coast of California when a local friend told me a position had opened here at Red Dog: I jumped at the chance. Suddenly I had a destination here in Washington and what I found on the farm came to be far more than just a job.

For me now, home is where I work. Home is where I lift irrigation pipes, rifle through crates and throw dirt flying through the air. Home is my stinging hands pulling up cold carrots in the morning, my well-worked back loading the truck, my tired feet kicking off weathered boots. Home is where I’m never alone, sharing the land with my best friends, my community and anyone who may be driving down Center Road while I harvest in our eastern fields.

As we move deeply into the fall here on the farm this place feels more like home than ever. The crew is seasoned and settled, the fields worn in and braced for the rains, the crops hardy, yet sweeter every day. Like the fall sun fading fast, my time at Red Dog is coming to an end only too soon. Winter days beckon a change in all of us and the land alike, but while the surface may show dormancy the next growing season strengthens beneath the soil.

So with the winter coming, and the squash and root vegetables in full bounty, may you find purpose in your work and a little bit of home in every bite.

– Thom