This is Jenny Tutlis. She is Meadowlark Farm. Here she is presiding, as much as anyone can over this lively crew, over lunch. I think of Jenny as Queen Bee--all of us are worker bees doing what is necessary to keep her and the hive going. She is very queenly in the BEST sense of the word. She is self-confident, fair and balanced and kind-hearted--how could you not be with all that green growing stuff under your care? She is the one with the small white floppy hat, her ersatz crown, and the symbolic green tank top.

I want to be reborn as her child.

I once painted a portrait of Jenny as Kali with four or six arms. Jenny needs at least eight. Yet she always has time for everyone. Jenny's private, quiet, meditative space is the greenhouse. I love being allowed in her private domain in early spring: it's warm and moist with lots of new green life. The greenhouse fills you with a sort of quiet surrender to what is real, whole and abiding.

Jenny has taught me the power and pleasure of dirt. I don't like the word soil--it makes me think of underpants or diapers. Dirt is what helps to bring forth all this beautiful food--and Jenny and Jon's constant vigilance. What would we do without them? If you dig in dirt then you know what an absolutely miraculous thing we have happening every day at Meadowlark Farm.

Thich Nat Hahn (spelling) says that it isn't whether you can walk on water, it's whether you can walk on the earth--or dirt. To me Jenny and Jon walk on dirt.