Team Mom, season two. Now that they're together they get to switch off nursing duties, and the piglets get to make a bigger, warmer pile of themselves to sleep in. If only we all had a partner to help with all of our chores.
A few days ago, a purposeful gaggle of geese flew over the farm. Noble creatures, these. And as I looked up at them, despite my t-shirt, all I could think was:
Sorry about that. But: it is coming. And that means we are busy little bees.
The innocent lushness of the garden conceals the grueling hours of labor saving its bounty entails...why, oh why must the garden grow so quickly??? (a/k/a thank god the garden finally grew)I only have a few more rounds of planting, and then I am devoted entirely the mad dash to save it all up. It is very satisfying work to sweat it out in the evening with all four burners going (canning pot, brine, lids, overflow jars), thinking of how lovely it will be to eat the beets alongside a pan-seared pork chop, to dollop the pesto on top of a bowl a stew, to add the dilled carrots to brown rice as the snow blusters about on top of the slumbering garden outside.
But, as much as the geese and the cooler evenings mean that we have to hurryuppleaseitstime, they also mean that calmer evenings are ahead, evenings in which one can dote on a simmering pot of stew, where the only real chores are to make sure everyone is cozy, fed and watered, where the pace of growing slows down enough that one can pause, breathe, and spend an entire month's worth of evenings reading a book, and an entire month's worth of Sunday mornings reading the entire New York Times over lazy cups of coffee, when I can finally pop open the jars I've been sweating over and savor the results.
* Everything EXCEPT tomatoes, which are currently large, glorious, and stubbornly green. And it's not just me! My gardening forum is awash with impatient, miserable New England gardeners, waiting in vain for their heirlooms to ripen up. It seems it has been a slow summer at providing the "growing degree days" necessary to ripen the big heirlooms and beefsteaks; next year I will have to make sure to plant a few extra-early varieties so I won't have to have a minor temper tantrum every time I drive past the farmer's stand that has tomatoes starting in late July. Yes: next year begins the Quest for the July Tomato.