Got a good nap after lunch yesterday, prepping for a tough row to hoe. Harvested nearly 80 pounds of fingerling potatoes between 2 and 4 pm. I’ve got this work to do. Dripping sweat and mud, each hill Christmas morning. Unique and tender as snowflakes. There’s gold in them thar hills.
Everything is way up. A cornucopia on the cusp of sustaining delivery. Early spring’s labors under the hoop house now promise realized. One hundred twelve tomato plants bursting with fruit, first blushes adorning their ample cheeks. Peppers out the wazoo. Even more eggplant. Leeks, celery, beets, carrots, cannellini beans, fennel, collards and kales and chards (oh my!), a field of basil, creeping sweet potatoes, new fall plantings scheduled schematically. To use one of my dear, departed mother’s favorite sayings, “A God’s Plenty”.
Ten to twelve hours a day, minimum requirement for field work. Canning and drying and pickling and freezing and fermenting, our own dime and time. Summer time and you’d better be ready to earn it.
Winter’s bounty, all the sweeter having been seasoned with Corn Sweat.
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