Me Too, Tom
The first week baking pumpkin pies for market was the week that finally kicked our butts. Not taking a break last winter did catch up with us after all...just as those farmer mentors of ours forewarned. Or maybe it was taking on building projects during the growing season that pushed us over the edge. Holes poked through our stamina, energy draining out. My autoimmunity reminds me that it resides within anytime that I push it too hard for too long. Hi there my steadfast companion, I see I've awoken you again. It takes time, but I'll get the tiger back in its cage soon. I've done it before, and now that I have a name for it, I know how to tame it...how to soothe it.
Adrenaline and the enjoyment of what we do carried us far before we felt knocked off our feet. Sometimes barreling through with your head down can get you further than you think. I wouldn't recommend it, but a farmer's summer calls for pulling out all the stops. It's been five years since I labored with our youngest, but this time of the year almost feels like an extended labor. You're exhausted and have seemingly expelled all of your energy. There are painful moments for your weary body, but you have to find it within you to persist. Pushhhhhhhh.
It's all for a good cause: a baby, a harvest. It's what we signed up for, and what we set in motion like a fire set to burn until the winter winds extinguish it. And what a gift that in a growing season with some of the most difficult conditions we have seen, we have much to show for our cultivation. Every color of the visible spectrum is spread across the tabletops at market. Fruits, roots, tubers, leaves: an edible, alimentary display. When we are on the farm, we see the stress riddling the plants in the field and feel dismayed. The rains that pounded the farm are nearly forgotten now that we are in the throes of a late summer drought. The suffering is tangible, irrigation functioning as life support and the plants' branches weeping on sunny days. You smile to see the morning dew and you mourn the pop up showers that never come. That smile pales in comparison to the the way Rich and I beam at market on Saturdays when folks commend us on our harvest. Building the soil and feeding its life over the course of time to handle both excess and insufficient water, as well as the extra work put in this year to care for the plants, to reseed lost crops, to move irrigation ceaselessly, it's feeding people.
Today we're taking the kids on an adventure. We have to take advantage of the weather and a day when we have them to ourselves. Tomorrow we will drop them at school's stoop and then continue to push it, to reap what we sowed. And even to sow more. It's high time to capture the sun, to play our part in the photosynthetic business that we're in: seed, plant, water, weed, harvest, wash, preserve, deliver, take a shower and get to market. It's a year that's tested our wits and our bodies. But God, if it doesn't have us already looking forward to next season. A fresh start, a new batch of unknowns and of opportunity, smarter heads on our shoulders, and one year wiser.
Thank you for reading.
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