“[Our ancestors] followed a calendar that was defined by the agricultural events of everyday life. They based their units of time, seasons, and months not on abstract numbers and calculations, but on the reality of the environment in which they lived.”
Debra J. Robbins, Ecology & the Jewish Spirit
Nisan begins the season of planting after months of rain.
On the full moon, we celebrate Passover, Chag HaAviv, the festival of springtime as we eat new greens and unleavened bread (before the wheat harvest in Sivan). Firsts of the year abound: new plants, baby animals, and a special blessing to say over blossoming fruit trees. In the TaNaKh, Nisan is the first month, a New Year for the Jewish People in the wake of the Exodus from slavery to freedom. On Passover, we mark our journey through and into the wilderness and begin a season of counting as we count the omer. The attributes associated with the first weeks of the Omer are: Hesed (Loving-Kindness), and Gevurah (Strength, Boundaries)
In Nisan, we are growing horseradish, chive, and sorel, karpas (greens), maror and hazeret (bitter herbs) for our seder plate. Elsewhere on the farm we are taking the winter covers off, and preparing the beds for the growing season. Outside, we are seeding the spring crop directly in the fields to germinate in the cold, and inside, we are seeding the summer vegetables.
Iyar is a month of attunement, of spiritual sustenance, and of medicine.
The acronym for Iyar is Ani Yah Rofecha, God is my Healer. The entire month falls during the counting of the Omer, between Passover and Shavuot. In the Torah, this month is called ziv, radiance, and we are called to notice the springtime unfolding around us. The attributes associated with these weeks of the Omer are: Tiferet (Beauty, Harmony), Netzach (Endurance), Hod (Grace), Yesod (Foundation)
In Iyar, we are growing medicinal herbs: yarrow, thyme, lemon balm, and sage. Elsewhere on the farm we are taking everything out of the greenhouse and into the ground with a thick layer of compost and a newly placed irrigation tube.
Sivan, a time for revelation.
After seven weeks of counting the Omer, we harvest wheat planted during the heavy rains and celebrate receiving the Torah. Sivan invites us to reflect on the learning we have done and the wisdom we are still seeking over the course of the now waning academic year. As the weather warms, the ‘first fruits’ ripen and double in size as we near the heat of the summer. The attribute associated with the last week of the Omer is Malchut (Sovereignty, Rootedness, Care)
In Sivan, we are growing wheat for the biblical wheat harvest festival of Shavuot. Elsewhere on the farm, we are harvesting first fruits and winter wheat and seeding the summer wheat. Our first big harvest of greens (and peas!) is rolling in and the summer crop is sizing up.
Tamuz, and the heat is delightful and relentless.
On Massachusett land, we are warmed but not scorched by the summer heat. The summer months bring about the hard labor of providing abundance, and our ancestors knew this time as one of grief. After the full moon in Tammuz, we begin to mourn, remembering the destruction of the Temple and life as our ancestors knew it.
We are growing Persian Basil, a green who loves the summer sun and heat. Strong smells and colors remind us of our foods and cultures that thrive in diaspora.
Elsewhere on the farm the tomatoes are ripening and the rows are filling out, looking more and more lush every day.
Av, a month to hold loss and to hold love.
The month of Av begins in deep grief, culminating in Tisha (9) B’Av, the only other full fast day. We read from the book of Eicha (Lamentations) and sit with the heart-wrenching stories of this day. And then, on the full moon, we celebrate wholeness. Tu (15) B’Av commemorates the reunification of the tribes of Israel, and has become a Jewish holiday of love. Diaspora is both; a lot has been lost, and nothing is missing.
In Av, we are growing walking onion, a perennial member of the allium family that spreads by growing bulbs that fall next to the plant that they grew on. In Av, we honor our wandering selves and tradition.
Elsewhere on the farm we are in peak growing season, delighting in the abundance of peppers, eggplants, and squash.
Elul and we are back in the beginnings and endings of the year.
Long summer days are shortening, and the temperature cools at night. Summer vacation is ending and the school year is beginning. A few leaves are beginning to change color. We, too, are caught in a cycle of change and return. We wake each day of Elul with the call of the Shofar, and the call invites us to turn towards introspection, to do the work of cultivating light in advance of the anticipated cold and dark. The word Elul is an acronym for Ani L’Dodi V’Dodi Li (I am my Beloved and my Beloved is Mine): there is nothing more beloved than coming home to your true self.
In Elul, we are growing: squash, beans, and corn: “Alone, a bean is just a vine, squash an oversize leaf. Only when standing together with corn does a whole emerge which transcends the individual. The gifts of each are more fully expressed when they are nurtured together than alone. In ripe ears and swelling fruit, they counsel us that all gifts are multiplied in relationship. This is how the world keeps going.” Robin Wall Kimmerer, “The Three Sisters” in Braiding Sweetgrass.
Elsewhere on the farm we are getting ready for the fall by harvesting the last of the summer harvest (broccoli, cabbages, beans, squash, and corn) and seeding root vegetables.
Tishrei is a month of integration, renewal, and change.
The fall holiday season is packed: Rosh HaShanah marks the birthday of creation and the beginning of the civil year, Yom Kippur invites us to return to our truest selves through introspection and accountability, and Sukkot is our fall harvest festival: singing, dancing, and waving our sacred species: Arava (Willow), Lulav (Date Palm), Etrog (Citron), Hadas (Myrtl)
In Tishrei, we are growing grapes to commemorate the biblical Sukkot fruit harvest and thyme for the turning of the year. Elsewhere on the farm, we are feeling the change of the season, harvesting the last of the summer fruits, the beginning of the fall greens, and collecting the long awaited winter squashes to cure and store for the coming months.
Heshvan is a quiet month.
We begin praying for rain in the final days of Sukkot, and we wait anxiously for these rains that will determine the success of our crops next year. There is a quality of bitterness to this month: of the letdown after the festival season and the lack of holidays, of the rains beginning and the sky darkening, and of the challenge to hold true to the resolutions of last month.
In Heshvan, we are growing perennial kale: a bitter green that sweetens with the frost.
Elsewhere on the farm we are harvesting greens and roots and preparing for the coming winter.
Kislev: a month to dream and to cultivate inner light amidst the darkness of winter.
Our ancestors spent these days pressing olives (harvested before Sukkot) into olive oil - good for lighting candles and frying sufganiyot and potato latkes. Kislev ends during the celebration of Hanukkah, a time to see our capacity extend beyond what we think is possible. During this month, we contemplate who we are in relation to the world around us, look towards community for light and connection, and tuck ourselves in under warm blankets.
In Kislev, we are growing potatoes to make latkes for Hanukkah. Elsewhere on the farm we have covered our beds with mulch to keep remaining crops warm and to build soil before the spring.
Tevet, and our days grow brighter and longer throughout the month.
Light is coming, amidst the geshem (heavy rains) and snows. Tevet marks the beginning of winter and begins in the final glow of Hanukkah. Biblically, we sow barley and wheat as we look forward to the coming festivals of Passover and Shavuot.
In Tevet, we are growing winter spinach, bright green in the depths of winter.
Elsewhere on the farm, we are resting, planning, and sending out seed orders for next year’s crop.
Shvat, and tree roots begin to drink of the replenished waters.
Around us the world looks frozen, but sap is beginning to flow and life is slowly and subtly awakening. On the fifteenth of the month, Tu B’Shvat, we gather under the full moon to celebrate trees and the earth that sustains us.
In Shevat, we are growing figs and strawberries for Tu B’Shevat. There are three types of fruit in a Tu B’Shevat seder: fruits with no shell, fruits with a pit, and fruits with a tough outer shell.
Elsewhere on the farm we are starting onion, tomato, and microgreen seeds indoors and waiting for the overwinter greens (spinach, kale) to begin growing again.
Adar, a time to cultivate joy and play the winter out.
The rains are almost over, and the season has shifted to ‘pre-spring.’ Sap is flowing, and sweetness is coming. We laugh, shaking off our winter stiffness and cultivating inner body heat. We celebrate Purim on the full moon by giving gifts to those in need, eating hamentashen, and recounting the courage and tenacity of Esther and Mordechai.
In Adar, we are growing anise-hyssop and lemon balm, bright smells to wake us up at the end of a long winter, and the topsy-turvy Rhubarb, with its edible stalk and poisonous leaves.
Elsewhere on the farm the overwintered greens are delighting in the lightening and lengthening days. As the seedlings strengthen indoors, we prepare for the planting season ahead.
“Jewish tradition grew out of the relationship between a people and their land. Three thousand years ago our ancestors' lives revolved around the cycles of the earth. They planted and harvested according to the seasons. They prayed for rain in the winter and dew in the summer. Today our holidays and our lunar calendar are a constant reminder of our interdependence with nature. We honor the new month with Rosh Hodesh, blessings of the new moon. We celebrate many holidays on the full moon. We pray in 'organic' time at sunrise and sunset."
Let the Earth Teach You Torah, Ellen Bernstein