After a positively sultry weekend, the rain came down in buckets on Saturday night and again on Sunday morning, leaving us with another 1" of rain in the fields and an unfamiliar good feeling in our hearts. With the forecast for more showers and rain at the beginning of the week, we set about putting our final transplants in the ground. Then it sprinkled a little on Tuesday night, and with the forecast for sun on the near and distant horizon, we knew this year was over.
Over in the sense of that important distinction between what we can do, and what we must simply accept. Our season starts with everything laid before us - fields to plow and plant, people to hire, seeds to plant - so many tasks to do to make this food party happen. As the season moves along, the things we do are constantly worked upon by the things that are done to us - rain, wind, sickness, pests, drought - and we work that dance trying to keep the balance in the "doing" column, steering this ship towards where we want it to go. But at some point, this party runs out of time - there's simply no way to sow any more carrots if they don't germinate, or make half the bumper tomatoes disappear. At that point, when the balance shifts we are left in the position of takers (not makers) and hope that we can graciously assume the position of acceptance.
So after the rain, with the calendar moving past nearly all planting dates, we knew where we were. With the start of school on the horizon, we packed up what was left of our crew, got some inner tubes, a few melons, and a stray block of cheese. We head up to the Deerfield River, and instead of working, just floated down, letting the stream take us for a couple of hours. There was a chill wind. First one we felt in a while. And we just enjoyed each others company, as we prepared to reap what we have sowed.
We hope you enjoy the harvest.
(for Karen, Abbe, Zoe, John, Rebecca, and Sunny)