Two years ago, we imagined a ‘future life’ in an imagined place. It was delightfully speculative … the kind of spaces we thought about creating. We wondered aloud about the way ‘place’ might serve as a stage upon which to act out our life well-lived, an encouragement to others to do the same.
Now, we are on the cusp of owning a small farm - teeny tiny, really - in the middle of France. It is the actual place where we intend to bring those early imaginings to life.
In this week’s Feasts + Fables newsletter, we let our imagination run wild, conjuring up images of the creative spirit we plan to foster at our ‘Encouragement Farm’
“A Postcard From ...
... the future.
What do you do when you’re stuck in a moment waiting for a process to complete? There are things to do in the present - exciting things, fun things ... but there are also imagined worlds and they’re exciting and fun too.
Occasionally, we transport ourselves to the future. We take ourselves off for a stroll around ‘Encouragement Farm’. Heading out of the main house, I wander across the courtyard towards the Seasonal Kitchen; glancing to the right I see a leg dangling over the side of the hammock, the chestnut trees providing welcome shade. Tendrils of woodsmoke drift into the still, sultry air above the bread oven, the aroma of sourdough bread distracting me as I head for a late-morning ‘encouragement session’. The kitchen is the busy hub of the vibrant transient community ... folk have popped over from the bell tents down in the orchard to gather fresh eggs and bread for brunch before they take a short woodland walk to the boulangerie. Mrs Feasts has made flapjack, a favourite with the local cycling club who are now used to breaking their rides with a coffee stop at N+1, Mr Fables’ bike shed. A quick espresso and some fuel for the road makes us an essential navigational ‘dropped pin’. Our friend, the artist, is already at the long table, with notes spread out in front of her. Our chat has been long-planned; ideas about turning her craft into something more solid commercially. We’ll be dialling into a Zoom call with a mutual contact from the world of independent freelancers. It’s a chance to swap notes, to inspire one another. There’s a crunch of tyres on the drive as the Copenhagen bike from the local community shop arrives to drop off some flour, and to collect two boxes of apples, the surplus from our early Autumn crop. We swap a jar of green tomato chutney for a jar of local honey, remembering that we need to chat about keeping bees. The wildflower meadow has really taken; perhaps we’ll get started next Spring. The cookery books are open on the counter; Mrs Feasts dashes past to take the sourdough out of the oven ... the abandoned books distract the writer who has been with us for a couple of weeks now, proofing his first draft. “Perhaps I could cook supper tonight”, he says. Definitely but, first, brunch, and some encouragement. I turn down the chill-out sounds of Café del Mar filtering through the speaker system. Let’s get this conversation started”
