I'm not terribly inspired this evening, but it occurs to me that I haven't posted in quite some time and much has come to pass since the previous post. For the first time since we've been at the Harvard farm, we are ready to go, mid-April. I actually don't know what to do with that. Usually, this time of year, we're trying to pin down someone to come and till (for quite the hefty sum). Usually, the weather is not cooperating and I'm unable to pull together quite as much cash as I need to cover the work. But not this year. Because of the purchase of a rototiller for behind Cousin Tim's tractor, this year we are ready to go, on time if not ahead of time. The garlic Mom and I planted amidst the first snow of the year in October has survived the harsh winter and begun to grow. Our oregano and sage are still growing strong, as we await any signs of the hops and the rhubarb. The potatoes have been delivered and are waking up in the basement, while the seeds that were planted on the first of March (and subsequent weeks thereafter) are growing big and strong under the glowing hum of the florescent lights. All is off to the best start we could hope for. Seeds have been delivered in their entirety, including a new crop of peanuts because the mice in the garage ate every single peanut we grew last season. Every year there is a lesson, or fifteen, to be learned. One of last season's was that the peanuts cannot be left for two months to dry in the garage. Things will eat them and break your heart. All we wait for, now, is some warmer weather to come our way.
I long so much for the summer days of sweat and hard work. There are six weeks left of my desk job, and never have I ever wished for time to go so quickly. I'm also in the process of moving...had I mentioned that? Boyfriend Tim got a great job that he's super stoked about and so we're moving in, to Oak Park. We have a lovely third floor apartment with hardwood floors and brand new appliances in my super beautiful kitchen. I'm really excited, but by the same token, life is becoming far more complicated. Now I must make sure to stop by my parents' house on the way to my new home to check in on the plants for whom I am a steward. Problems that arise will occasionally have to be dealt with from afar, and I will actually have to start carving out specific times to come over and transplant because I will no longer live under the same roof as my plants. I'm excited, sad, nervous, and intrigued all at once. There's just a bit of stress right now.
But whatever stress I might be feeling, all I have to do is go downstairs or out onto the deck (where we've already moved some plants because we ran out of room in the basement already!) and gaze upon the little miracles I've helped to raise. Their root systems are so strong, you wouldn't believe it. And I know how big they'll get, how impressive their roots will become, how much food they'll provide for my family and others I may not even know. But for now, they are so fragile, so tiny, so in need of shepherding and their strength against the elements and my occasional failures never ceases to amaze me. So much potential is such small packages. My whole summer, and a good chunk of my happiness, is vested in these little green bundles. The tomatoes smell peppery, the basil reminds of a warm day, and the oregano brings a pungency much needed to the table. The brussels sprouts are already growing tall and strong, while the cabbage begins its long journey toward my zesty fall slaw. So much potential, so much to look forward to. We will continue to transplant the seedlings, and move things out onto the deck and into the real world, and water to make sure they make it to the field. The field that is now fully plowed, soft, and, at least for the time being, weed free. The field of my dreams...my wonderland.
Allison
I long so much for the summer days of sweat and hard work. There are six weeks left of my desk job, and never have I ever wished for time to go so quickly. I'm also in the process of moving...had I mentioned that? Boyfriend Tim got a great job that he's super stoked about and so we're moving in, to Oak Park. We have a lovely third floor apartment with hardwood floors and brand new appliances in my super beautiful kitchen. I'm really excited, but by the same token, life is becoming far more complicated. Now I must make sure to stop by my parents' house on the way to my new home to check in on the plants for whom I am a steward. Problems that arise will occasionally have to be dealt with from afar, and I will actually have to start carving out specific times to come over and transplant because I will no longer live under the same roof as my plants. I'm excited, sad, nervous, and intrigued all at once. There's just a bit of stress right now.
But whatever stress I might be feeling, all I have to do is go downstairs or out onto the deck (where we've already moved some plants because we ran out of room in the basement already!) and gaze upon the little miracles I've helped to raise. Their root systems are so strong, you wouldn't believe it. And I know how big they'll get, how impressive their roots will become, how much food they'll provide for my family and others I may not even know. But for now, they are so fragile, so tiny, so in need of shepherding and their strength against the elements and my occasional failures never ceases to amaze me. So much potential is such small packages. My whole summer, and a good chunk of my happiness, is vested in these little green bundles. The tomatoes smell peppery, the basil reminds of a warm day, and the oregano brings a pungency much needed to the table. The brussels sprouts are already growing tall and strong, while the cabbage begins its long journey toward my zesty fall slaw. So much potential, so much to look forward to. We will continue to transplant the seedlings, and move things out onto the deck and into the real world, and water to make sure they make it to the field. The field that is now fully plowed, soft, and, at least for the time being, weed free. The field of my dreams...my wonderland.
Allison