Something started to burst open a bit on Saturday, and continue throughout the weekend. A letting go, a sinking deeper into this skin, a relief that summer is finally here. A seeing things at face value: this is how it is, and it doesn't have to be more.
I harvested the bunching greens by myself, early in the morning. It's a time to focus on my own rhythm, set a steady pace, listen and watch and try not to think about how much there is to do. Just find the good leaves, stack them neatly, twist and tuck into the tote. The harvest for Saturday is relatively small since the market is still slow. Twenty kale, twelve chard, eight collards, sixteen basil. Last week I found a fallen drone in the kale field. This week, just this mutated leaf.
Market continues to dazzle me with more colors and textures appearing every week. This week we added cauliflower and green garlic to the mix. Next week, mounds of fluffy fennel leaves will soften the display. Isn't it all gorgeous, glistening clean and laid out in heaping stacks?
And then, once market was set up and the youth managers rolling with transactions and CSA check-ins, I surprisingly had the morning to myself. A flashback to springtime, when all we did it seemed was thin and prick out little seedlings in the nursery. No more hiding from the cold wind, ducking under a closed-up greenhouse door to huddle with the plant sale trays. The nursery is now wide open, plastic end walls hanging down to let air flow, hotter and hotter as the days continue to lengthen and sun shines fully. Celery came up poorly, so I filled in what cells I could with doubles or triples, humming quietly as the youth crew spread out into the fields to harvest and weed.
And then the most lovely thing: three of my roommates, Sherman, Kory, and Aiden, came to help out for the afternoon. They seeded our next rounds of melons, basil, and sunflowers in the shade, helped me haul irrigation hoses across the farm, and jumped into a last-minute transplanting project that we had no hope of getting done until next week. For me, being able to mesh my personal and professional life like that is a sign that we're doing things right. Anyone can come, I can stop to show off the farm to friends, and everyone's there to just help out. No big expectations on either end. Just hang out and plant some lettuce.