|The latest Garden shot|
|Friday night gang, including me. Photo by Lenn Stout.|
|Mama Iva with seeds|
Of course, Mama Iva came bearing my favorite vegan cookies from Trader Joe's, some fancy cheeses and avocados to make her world-famous guacamole, not to mention boxes of See's Candies as gifts. This woman is where I learned that Food = Love.
|Brent and Mom, catching up|
We saw cousins galore and I put her to work, but only after she insisted. I had her de-leafing and de-seeding pulled up cilantro plants ("I never knew it was coriander! Huh!"), pulling weeds around the garlic and acting as my accountant-secretary at the Farmer's Market. I am missing her this week but since her ankles were eaten up by evil horseflies (the photos are ghastly), I'm happy she's back home, safe and sound.
|Brent harvest his wheat field on our land|
Every time I look at a Ground Cherry (a Physalis, really), I think, "Miracle." This delightful wee fruit is also called a Chinese Lantern and, in fact, are delicate, edible papery works of art. Harvesting the ones on the ground, you look for the deepest beige. Peeling back the feathery natural packaging, you find an orangey-yellow fruit, like a sweet, lemony-tomato - incredibly different from any other taste. A fellow organic farmer/vendor named Miles introduced me to them last summer and I flipped out over them and had to make them part of my life and market table. I made every single person at the Market try them this week and I sold a bunch with that strategy.
|Ground Cherries, in their papery packaging|
I wrote a list of pros and cons for returning but I change my mind every day. Today, as I think about ordering garlic for next year (which I must do soon before they run out) and how much I paid for The Mae Flower and how much I upended my life to be here, I'm thinking "Yes" to Year 3.
|A nearby field|
|'Farmland from the sky'|
I was hoping that last Saturday's annual Chicken Slaughter Party at Powerful Pierre's would have some clarifying effects, what with all the blood and guts, but my brain continued to argue with itself: "What am I doing here???? YOU BELONG HERE! What am I doing here??? YOU BELONG HERE!" As I cut off their feet and plucked out their pin feathers moments after their deaths, the chickens could only tell me in one last garbled cluck, "Life is short. Take all the risks you can, lady."At least that's what I heard.
|End of my driveway at sunset|
|Second Chance Ranch, as seen from Hwy 55|