Just spent a few amazing days at the Quillisascut Farm School of the Domestic Arts and I'm still high from the good vibrations. It was an amazing learning experience. Tough and tiring, but really rewarding.
I wasn't sure what to expect when we rolled up after a nearly six-hour drive from Seattle. That included a pit stop at the still-adorable Billy Burger in Wilbur. When I lived in Spokane, I made many journeys through Washington's wheat country on Highway 2 and this trip brought back loads of happy memories.
During the four days of Farm Culinary 101, we did all sorts of chores, but there were times for reading and reflection. I loved sitting on the deck (the view pictured above) and listening to the birds and the soft wind moving the leaves on the trees.
As we went around the table during our final morning meeting, we talked about the word grateful. I said I was grateful to reconnect to my sense of smell, triggered by the barnyard perfume of compost, the sweetness of lavendar, the intoxicating aroma of bread baking and the odor of sauerkraut fermenting. I forgot to include how grateful I was to go and jump in Lake Roosevelt after a sweaty afternoon of wandering orchards or pulling weeds.
What made this such a powerful experience was sharing it with strangers who became fast friends. The first night was quiet polite conversation, the last was filled with laughter and one wild prank. (Sorry, I'm sworn to secrecy.) There are few times in your adult life when you can give in to child-like feelings of joy and this was one. Only trouble is, now I'm missing life the farm. I feel like I'm going through withdrawl.