“The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.” - Natalie Babbitt, from Tuck Everlasting
Doesn’t she describe the beginning of August perfectly? I’m behind the times with this passage, but an earlier draft of this post was written in the first week of August, at about the half-way point of the CSA season, but now we’re two-thirds through, and it feels like the Ferris wheel is on the downturn again.
But let’s backtrack a bit to the half-way point because there’s a clear shift in priorities on the farm at that mark. From March through late July, it’s all about seeding, transplanting, and upkeep. That five-month stretch is intense. During this time, Jason works close to 90 hours a week between the farm and his full-time day job. I clock around 55 hours for the farm, not counting time spent on my separate writing life. Let me put it out here honestly: the current system technically works, but it’s not at all our vision for our family and the farm in the long term. The set up of our lives right now is more about surviving the season, rather than thriving in it.
Around Week 9 of the CSA season, there comes a change almost overnight. It’s the half-way point, and time has run out to seed and transplant most things. And although we’ll continue transplanting lettuce and some fall and winter crops, the time has come to harvest. All of those pepper plants and tomato vines are living out their intended purpose.
Given the design of our life at this junction, there is no time or energy for weeding, or a lot of other tasks that aren’t deemed completely necessary. In the weeks ahead, given our current workload, we must use our strength for harvesting. It makes no sense to weed a parsley patch, when there are ripe heirloom tomatoes to gather. We’ll shift back to more upkeep when the season winds down in autumn.
It’s also that time when you realize summer won’t be here much longer. The other day, Silas and I walked down to look at his garden row. It grows beside a patch of sunflowers and zinnias. I knew they were all in bloom, but only because they sort of flashed red and orange and yellow as I drove by in the pickup every day. This was the first time I stood in front of them and really saw them, all full of beating butterfly wings and humming bees.
Now, let me tell you why this season has been our best, and maybe one of our most difficult. (It’s a toss up between this year and season two.) Here’s the cliff notes version of the farm’s history.
In the beginning, it was a little backyard operation. The next year, we relocated the farm to its current location, and did all farm work by hand. I was still working full-time, and the season was hard, especially for Jason, who sustained an injury and then a wicked case of shingles. In season three, I left my full-time job, and we bought the walking tractor. In seasons four and five, we hired a part-time helper. Then, in season 6, the pandemic shut down Jason’s workplace and he worked from home for an entire season. This freed up his commute times and lunch breaks, and frankly, more of his mental and physical energy, and also meant he could care for Silas while I was up at the farm.
This year, he’s back in the office full time, and we opted to forgo help. So it’s been a tough one.
At the same time, it’s been our best season for several reasons. Chief among them, of course, is the deer fence. The stress of that situation, and all the extra work it created in past seasons is over. There’s also the landscape fabric, and the straw, and the ability to draw on seven years of farming and business experience.
There’s another reason why each week of this season feels like another leg of a difficult journey behind us. A seismic life change is coming our way in 2022. I want so badly to tell you about it, but it’s still a little too soon. As Tom Petty sang, “The waiting is the hardest part.” This season has been one of the hardest because we’re waiting for something. A change is coming.
~ Stella