and even though we wouldn’t mind some real snow now and then, the fact that we still have enough lettuce (no promises it will still be there after tonight!) to have a beautiful salad cinches the fact. It has been a good winter so far.
It’s about time to throw a Biodynamic Conference.
It’s about time to sow cover crops. They need time to grow while the sun still shines.
It’s about time to start eating some kale.
It’s about time to contemplate breeding the milk goat.
It’s about time to fix the chicken coop roof.
It’s about time to stack firewood, and cover it well, so it stays crispy dry.
It’s about time to pick up knitting needles again.
It’s about time plant the last of the cilantro and lettuce to see us into the winter.
And while I’m waiting for the watering can to fill, so I can water the freshly transplanted lettuce, I am tempted to walk away from the filling bucket, to use the time to do another thing on this endless list of things to do. It’s about that time that a breeze hits my face. The evening light sparkles through the trees. My shoulders relax. My spine lengthens. I remember. Once upon a time, I heard some wise men say that time is our own creation.
It’s about time.
It’s about time to just stand there, letting the watering can fill, with the sun and the breeze on my skin.
It’s about taking our own sweet time.
Making our own sweet time.
Making our own time sweet.
Somehow, it’s already mid-July. Not sure how that happened. It seems like we were just engulfed by the spring rush and now we are trying to get the potatoes out of the ground during this brief window of time between tons of rain and the daily chance for more rain. Here in Bugtussle, we just skirted by NOT getting the last couple of storms that blew through, luckily, leaving the potato patch (which is fortunately all hilled up, therefore drying out more quickly) just dry enough to fiddle with. My fellow farmwives, particularly Robin, have continued getting swamped. Literally, swamped. (You’ll be hearing more on this soon, I’m sure!) The rain has come in torrents, leaving us to witness the incredible force of raging water. Leaving us feeling helpless in the wake of all the rain.
As it goes, I am pretty much useless in the gardens right now. While I am pleased that my broken leg is healing quickly and nicely (no surgery will be needed!), I can’t help but also feel a little bit depressed about my inefficiency and inability to lend a hand. It’s my own deal, I know that. Everyone else on the farm is very supportive and encouraging me to take it easy. Truly, I’m thankful for that. Still and all, I like being busy. I like working. At this stage in my pregnancy, too, I want desperately to be able to continue to move my body and stay fit for labor. But I also have to be sensible about my limits, and not do anything that will create further damage somewhere else in my body. Oh, the razor’s edge! I am figuring out a few things that I can do (other than knitting) but I’m as slow as a seven-year-itch. I can wash dishes… as long as someone else hauls the dirty ones to the sink. I can drive the golf cart left-footed and ease up next to the blueberry bushes to pick from a seated position. I can scoot around on my butt on the floor with a hand broom and dustpan for sweeping. I am learning to ask for help, which quite honestly, I’m not very good at. It’s all very humbling for me but ultimately, a minor bump in the road. I know I will look back on this time with a sigh and a smile.