Summer arrives divinely

Today was one of the glorious days. Three apprentices arrived in good spirits this morning and with willing hands. We spent the first hour or so talking about the miracle of making compost and how farmers choose the varieties of vegetables that they grow. Collectively, the group has arrived at some pretty good criteria: growing season, precipitation, humidity, maturity day length, yield and taste, ah, taste. We talked about the beauty of being small acreage, direct marketing farmers. We can pick it in the morning and distribute it in the afternoon. The food can be fresh and the food can be grown because it tastes great, not because it travels well. Ah, taste.

After the Apprentices left, I stayed in the garden, weeding and looking about at the 100s of hours of work to be done, but then I thought about something my friend and neighbor said recently. Jude advised wisely that when you finish anything, folding clothes, weeding a bed, putting away the tools, watering the birds, wiping down a table, whatever it is, Jude says to stand back just a moment and look at what you've done with some pride. Today, I tried that. I did what she said to do and it was a damn good day. A day that I'm proud of.

And now, after a salad our farm grew and some asparagus from across the valley, I drink a large glass of water, head to the radio to quiet Terry Gross and head back to the field to move water on the pasture, weed another bed and get ready to stand back at the end of this day and say, ah. For taste, time, for farming, for life. Ah.