It started last October when Anne and I celebrated 50 years of marriage. A pretty modest celebration with the field crew who took a break packing carrots and potatoes to crack into a couple of bottles of champagne . But a bigger milestone looms ahead in November when we celebrate 50 years of ownership of Edgewater Farm.

I recently have been thinking of moments in time. My moms Birthday is upcoming in the next couple of days. It astounded me to think she would be 102. My Dad would be 111. ( I did the higher math while harrowing in some winter rye and vetch on some spent corn ground. I contemplate most of my deep thought while bouncing around on farm machinery...)

But 50 years ago this November my parents were at the lawyers with us to witness Stan Colby signing his family farm over to Anne and I. We literally ” bought the farm” at the tender age of 23. I can only guess as to what we were thinking. We were at the end of our 2nd year of trying to grow and sell vegetables. Having made one good decision to not try to buy and milk cows for a living (we both grew up on dairy farms with animals) we immediately made a really bad assumption that it would be easier to make a living as vegetable growers. The first two seasons in our new life long endeavor showed us our flawed logic and that it was possible to loose money gardening.

The farm name came from a sign that we found in the back room. We figured the Colbys would get a kick out of seeing the name remain the same and we were not pretentious enough to give some cutesy name like Hard Knocks Farm. Edgewater it is, and Edgewater it was.

I wont go into the history....too long, and besides, I really cant clearly remember much without pictures and photographs in front of me anyway. But Hillary Clinton is quoted as saying “It takes a village to raise a child” and I guess the same could be said about our journey. We did not do this alone, we got lots of help. We were “smartened up” by a community of educators, community elders, fellow farmers, friends and family. Eventually were able to develop our craft and produce something of value.

You would think we would be genius farmers after 50 years. All that experience-- we did learn a lot. You might think I have an answer for every situation, but not so much. Anne asked me an hour ago why the onions performed so poorly this year and I told her I have no idea. Some time your experience helps you muddle through the ups and downs, and sometimes you just feel like you are in the ocean in a rowboat without an oar. The main thing I learned after 50 years of farming and self employment is humility. Mother Nature can be a cruel mistress, and she has a lot to say about whether you come out in the red or the black, But we do have the insight and experiences of our fellow farmers to utilize, as well as our friends at the university extension service. There is lots of support in the community, especially from the good folks who frequent the farmstand and greenhouse, who not only spend their dollars with us but step out of their way to say a nice word or two to us about what we do. That support may be the best currency of all. In the end it really does “take a village to raise a child...or a strawberry.. We cannot own but only share in the credit or remaining on the map for 50 years. A lot of the credit goes to a long list of good people whom belong in the Edgewater Farm community, past and present.

core edgewater team L TO R: Ray, Pooh, Sarah, Anne… seemingly off farm, looking incredibly stately on the steps of our nation’s capital circa 30+ years ago…

Anne and I are happy with what we have accomplished and in turning it over to the next generation we are optimistic that it will continue to be an important contributor to the Upper Valley Community. There will be a party and a lot of back slapping and celebrating sometime this fall, but as I go about seeding ground down to cover crops and servicing machinery for next year, I am sure faces from our past will join me on occasion in momentary revery, and I as think of those friends and family I will be reminded that we didn’t do it by ourselves.