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Understory Farm LLC
2076 East Street,
Bridport, VT, 05734,
United States
802-282-6738 understoryfarmvt@gmail.com
Hours
Fri 8am-5pm

understoryfarmvt@gmail.com / 802-282-6738

We talked about the matter of frost at lunch and collectively decided it wasn’t going to freeze based on the combined one hundred years of farming experience between the five of us. I trust this kind of primordial decision making. Like finding
I’ve sold approximately zero bunches of this amaranthus this season. Arguably the least popular thing we grow. Maybe it’s too much. Too oddly shaped. Too clumsy. Too inelegant and deliberately obtuse on the eyes. But I still grow it yea
I’ve been looking forward to the end of summer. An embarrassing thing to admit. With all of its sun and warmth and violent plenteous growth. But now that it’s now and the me right now sees my own breath in the dark of the morning and lo
My favorite parts of the farm right now are the parts least touched. The brume of milkweed. The spilling clematis. The toppling sunflowers and the bee-swarmed celosia. The rudbeckia scooping everything up like a spoon. All the hungriest plants during
I roll out of bed and straight into flowers. After dreaming in flowers. After rolling out of flowers and into bed. It is September afterall, and the lines start to blur. We’ve been cutting so many dahlias this week that I’ve started see
This summer has been rich with every feeling imaginable. I’m grateful for every clumsy pigeon blue sky murmuration, every overnight rain, each and every hug and act of love, the whip of light on readied flowers, this special group of people tha
I’m leaving for Maine this morning. I got up at four and made the checklist and printed the invoices and sent the availability for next week and got the van on the road and felt the sun slowly warm across my face, from left to right, from ochre
This morning I loaded the van, delivered the flowers, ate breakfast, savored a cornichon and watched a pile of clouds cumulate widely. It made me think about being held, holding someone else, the way bodies hold bodies until the lines disappear, the