The garden is blowing up, the spring salad row has been returned to the soil, and the first fleeting thoughts of the coming Winter have surfaced in both our minds. Jasper is determined to walk, and Otis seems to be flying into grown boyhood. Gargoyle’s chicks have grown wing feathers, and use them to hop skip and fluttering jump as their preferred means of locomotion.
We have banished two chipmunks from the microgreen nursery and this mortal plane, and scared the pellets out of the big fence-jumping deer – I sat out at dusk with a boom-stick and waited until she was 15 feet away at the fenceline before popping up like a demented jack-in-the-box, bellowing and firing shells into the air.
Widget heard me and didn’t come out from under the bed for an hour; hopefully, the brassica-munching doe will simply never return.
The weather, as always, is in the news here. Next week is forecast as being oppressively hot – it’s been dry as a bone here so we were hopeful that the storms that formed all around us would bring some much appreciated rain to the field. However, as is traditional, the clouds dodged and parted around us in every possible way, sometimes re-forming into rainstorms just past us.
We had a total of a token 0.15″ while we watched the clouds play tricks like these:
But ya know, in spite of the sunless April, the minimal field hands, the rainless weeks, and the survival drive of wild animals and weeds. the field is looking downright spiffy; we knew we would have limited time with the new human we are growing concurrently, and planned ahead, bringing to bear a decade’s experience growing here. It’s deeply satisfying to see it coming in vibrantly.
After today’s harvest, walking up the hill from the field, I remember to Look Up, and Look Out – not to beware, but simply to come out of my introspection and use my eyeballs to be aware.
And holy crap, it’s beautiful. The wind sighs through the leaves of the field behind me and the trees above, the sun winks through at every opportunity. It’s perhaps literally impossible not to be flooded by gratitude – gratitude toward the mysterious interplay of reality, and to the people that have made this life possible for us and ours … from Kristin’s bedrock parents, to everyone who supports us , such as you.
I probably sound like a broken record, but every week writing this newsletter makes me take stock – and then inevitably become aware of how lucky I am to be here. I’m grateful for the weekly reminder .. and also to Kristin, for realizing how poorly I did last week, and writing a bit about everything that came your way today,
inside Box 5.
Microgreen Mix – Mix includes kale, radish, broccoli, amaranth, sunflower and red cabbage. It has been a popular choice at market so we made some for y’all to try. Feed back appreciated.
Peas – sugar snap peas are the plump ones. Snow peas are the flat pods.
Zucchini – green and golden, summer squash, maybe a patty pan
Cucumber – Just starting. We grow standard slicing varieties but also a lot of pickling ones as they are more versatile.
Broccoli – Gabe says “better than last year’s first broccoli.” For those of you that were there, well, you know that isn’t saying much. Is it the heat combined with drought? Hopefully it improves, like last years did.
Napa Cabbage – A miniature variety. For real. It is good fresh in a salad, sauteed, or alchemically transformed into kimchi.