August-The Sounds Of Summer

IT’S THE TIME OF YEAR WHEN WE ARE FLOWING FROM ONE WEEK TO THE NEXT. IT’S LIKE THE COMPOSITION OF A SONG STRINGING THESE WEEKS TOGETHER.

In the beginning of our week it’s the quietest as we regroup from the weekend markets.  If anything, Rich and I get to pay attention to the music the kids make…May’s storytelling, Jack’s coo’s and teething/wild banshee calls.  I put on something melodic for Jack to listen to in his swing as I seed next week’s microgreens and shoots. Tuesday comes and I hear the clamoring of hoop house rail from the tomato patch as I string another row of ‘Florida weave’ trellising and Rich makes more headway on our summer project.  All the while, May is ‘barking like Mel’ and chasing her through the field.  Wednesday comes and it’s the sound of the ‘Greens Harvester’, our favorite small farm tool buzzing away as it clips rows and rows of greens for our wholesale deliveries on Thursday.  “MIMI!”…May is excitedly welcoming my mom to the house to join in our weekly wholesale wash and pack day.  Cold water hits the wash basins and the industrial salad spinner whizzes as greens are prepared for kitchens throughout Dayton.  Thursday morning I hear Rich firing up the old delivery vehicle and pull the squeaky trailer around to the cooler.  The oven beeps and its preheated for the first of many batches of granola for weekend markets.  There’s Mel in the background, barking away at a the resident hawk who is flying low over the field…or even more likely…barking at the neighbor’s chickens.  Friday comes and the kittens mew from Rich’s shop as the basins fill once again to wash all of the market greens.  The spray nozzle hisses away…washing bunches of root veg.  The door to the farmhouse opens and closes all the while as Rich heads in and out, baking batches of sourdough in between the harvest.  The label printer clicks and hums away…here we go.  Saturday morning…the one morning the sound of an alarm wakes me.  We rise before the sun to pour some coffee and pack orders for market…bags crinkling.  Away to market Rich goes, and the kids and I head to the field…with all the kid sounds accompanying me as we harvest more tomatoes, peppers, and squash for Sunday’s market.  Down in Oakwood Rich gets all the market sounds…conversation and decision making…oh’s, ah’s, hm’s, laughter, barking, footsteps on pavement.  On Sunday I hear all of those market noises and also the sound of my sister’s voice as she cuddles Jack and I work the market booth.  Inevitably, there is the sound of Jack fussing himself to sleep in the backseat on our way home.

And in between the habitual sounds of our summer weeks, there are the very special ones that finally get me to stop and listen.  The pitter patter of the grasshoppers in the tall grasses along the edge of the garden…the much louder PITTER PATTER of rain on the barn roof from the safety of the wash and pack room underneath.  Then the whirl of the kitchen mixer whipping together some whipped cream as May excitedly watches from above…ready for her Sunday afternoon treat of berries with whipped cream.  The lazy zoom of a personal plane coasting overhead, reminding me to look up at the amazing cloud pattern in the blue sky.  And one of my favorites…the crickets’ song during late evening tomato harvest, with the backdrop of the lavender sky and the coolness that the evening brings.  These are the sounds of summer.