Down The River

Once again on Saturday, just after the Farm Shop closed, the skies opened up and poured water everywhere, soaking all of our crops with a weeks worth of rain in a couple of hours. Then the sun came out on Sunday, and stayed that way for a few days, allowing us to prep our fields for late seeding (spinach) and last planting (green kale and escarole) and pull weeds where they were still a problem. This pattern, which has now repeated itself reliably for a month or more has left me feeling somewhat repetitive and disoriented. Fine. I’ll take it.

But this week, there was something just a little different. I could feel it here and there, but it was definitely new. On the weekly farm tour with our apprentices, we just flew by most of the crops, seeing that they were weeded, watered, or just well beyond the point that we could do anything about them anyway. There was that chill in the morning air a few times, which made me want to get a sweatshirt. Then I remembered many of our summer crew was heading back to school soon. We put our last transplants in the ground for the season.

It all started to add up. The balance had shifted. We had moved from planning towards harvesting. From making towards taking. From opportunity towards reality. From creating towards accepting.

I knew what time it was. We harvested a week's worth of melons in a morning. Packed up our weeders, apprentices, volunteers, and stray kittens. Got some inner tubes, a few cucumbers, and a stray block of cheese. We headed up to the Deerfield River, and instead of working, just floated down, letting the stream take us for a couple of hours. And we just enjoyed each others company, as we prepared for a fall of reaping what we have sown.