It is so peaceful in the morning, filled mostly with soft bird calls, and this morning with a light dripping rain. Traffic sounds are nonexistent. I woke up at 10 after 5 and couldn't fall back asleep, so got up and made coffee. Now sitting on the bed with my feet under the covers, sipping. It is much cooled down from a couple of weeks ago, and is supposed to be in the low 70s.

Work-wise, we have been doing a variety of tasks. I have spent a fair amount of time in the greenhouse. I sowed many flats (200 cells each) of fall brassicas. Cabbage, kale, Brussels sprouts. The first group started coming up about four days after sowing. I was working in the greenhouse and noticed their debut. Every half hour or so I would take another peek at them, and each time I saw more and more seedlings. Though entirely explainable, it was a little magical.

With some visiting extra hands, all of the t-posts (long, metal rods) for trellising tomatoes and lettuce were pounded in. Yeah, lettuce. G is growing a few varieties of lettuce for seed, and this involves letting it grow past the point where one would harvest it. At some point, lettuce stops growing wider/heftier, and starts growing up. It grows up and up, resulting in a tall and ultimately  wobbly lettuce tower. So they are gently trellised.

Yesterday morning I harvested a big bucket of beets bound for a coastal restaurant. Short of beets, there isn't anything currently harvest-ready. But things are growing. Tomato plants are flowering and forming fruit, pepper plants are filling out. G planted some cucumbers and winter squash that are popping out everywhere. Eventually, the field housing the winter squash will need an electric bear fence around the entire perimeter. Apparently bears really like winter squash. (And melons. G jokingly swears  that every time he is growing melons the bears must make a nightly trek to the field to tap them. Then when the melons are ripe/the acoustics are right.. Melon feast.

G is on the coast this morning, so I am allowing myself a slightly later start. There isn't a whole lot to do, but I am going to go through the field and do some hoeing and hand weeding.

 "Farming isn't glamorous. It only looks sexy at the farmers market."

-G

This felt terribly true Friday as we dragged 25 pound bags of chicken manure across a dry, dusty field. It was 93 degrees out. After we finished spreading manure, I leaned against the truck and tried to wiggle the last few drops of water out of my bottle. I was drenched in sweat and dusted in chicken poop, and suddenly realized I didn't feel very good. I retreated to the shade, happy for the breeze. I found a small, abandoned wasp nest by my knee. It looked like a tiny paper lantern, and was just as fragile. 

Yesterday I went to the coast with a couple of visiting former-interns. It turned out to be a good day for it, as the temperature at the farm reached 106. When we arrived back around 7, it was still in the 90s. We spent an hour or so setting up irrigation, then had a relaxed dinner around 9. G brought out several books of poetry, and read a few of his favorites aloud. There was something so nice about sitting there in the warm, dim-lit room, savoring sips of wine, bites of herbed potatoes, and these poignant words.

When I woke up this morning, the sky was filled with wispy clouds. I had tied back my curtain the night before to watch stars, and so I laid there for a while watching the sky lighten. Around 10 we gathered in the winery and set out on bottling a barrel of wine. We did 25 boxes, at 15 bottles a box.... About 375 bottles! It took a few hours, but we talked and munched and sipped here and there. After we finished I hung my laundry to dry, then walked with the other folks down to the river. The water felt so nice.

I think the rest of the afternoon is devoted to rest. I am not sure what the work week holds, but it is supposed to cool down.

Started work at 6am! It was nice and cool, but by 9:30 it felt officially "hot." We had 400 eggplant to put in two beds, but we could only get one of beds done in the morning, as we had too start harvest. G harvested lettuce and cabbage for wholesale, while C and I harvested scallions and beets. We finished harvest around 11, and C and I set out on a weeding task. C see is very sensitive to the heat, and after a few minutes got up and went inside. I understand, but was mildly frustrated. G came by and told me he was going to power out the second bed of eggplant by himself. By this time it was 90 degrees out and even hotter in the field, but we had already set the plants out, and they wouldn't fare well ( or last all) without getting in the ground and watered. I offered to help. We both poured ourselves large jars of water mixed with an electrolyte-providing powder and set out. Finishing an hour and a half later, I was hot as hell, sweatier than I'd ever been and, my knees were tender from so much kneeling, but looking out at the long row of plants receiving water through the drip, I felt accomplished. G confirmed this, calling it "a brutal sense of satisfaction." Brutal referring to our sorry state.

I was definitely due for lunch. I ate leftovers then took an hour long nap, waking sweaty. It is another 96 degree day.

We will meet up again at six for a couple more hours of work.

Cold morning in June
Still morning crickets sing soft
River runs steady

I like sitting in the outdoor kitchen in the morning, facing the fields and the river. You can't see the river, but you can hear it. Drinking coffee, reading, but mostly just sitting quietly and listening.

Friday we had a long harvest day. Lettuce was first up, due to its fragile disposition. Then hundreds of scallions (my fingers are still sore from peeling the outer skins off,) savoy and red cabbage, broccoli, and a great quantity of beets. 

We worked for hours, and finally got the truck packed around 9pm. Living on the coast for the past couple of years I have missed the gentle, warm summer nights I used to love. It was a delicious feeling night- the kind you want to drink in, or maybe swim in.

G said the market went wonderfully. Many compliments on the produce, and he returned to the farm completely empty-handed: he had sold everything.

I had a relaxing weekend. It got what-I-thought-was-warm, about 85. But yesterday rocketed to 96, and today has peaked at 97. Both days we worked/will work a split shift, working early until about 1 (at which point it was HOT) and resuming for a couple of hours in the evening. Fellow wwofer and I have been taking refuge from the heat in our small cabin which stays fairly cool. He is not used to the heat, and not feeling great. I am uncomfortably warm, but feel OK. I think my body must have a memory for the heat. 

It is supposed to continue to be hot, and I predict some early morning starts.

Monday was a day of rain and rest.

Tuesday we worked all day harvesting for the local CSA and wholesale orders on the coast.

Wednesday, G took off early to do the coastal deliveries, and got back later than intended. While he was gone, I washed produce bins,  did some farm laundry, and spread endless feet of row cover out to dry. We spent the rest of the afternoon finishing harvesting for the local CSA. While he delivered those, I rolled up the endless feet of row cover. I hate row cover. Finished then day with an hour of hoeing.

Yesterday was mostly spent hoeing. I can't quite believe it, but I spent 5 hours yesterday doing it. Leaving me kind of in awe of my body's cooperation and adaptability. I also laid out drip line, washed bins, and sowed some brussels sprouts and parsley in the greenhouse.

Today is a big harvest day. I think we will try to get a lot done early, as it's supposed to be in the mid-80s.

I will try to post some photos soon!

Here. Intense focus was required on the drive out: (donotpukedonotpukedonotpuke.) I did not puke.

G seems grateful I am here. I am grateful to be here. I am grateful he is grateful, too.

I'm tired, and haven't even started in on farm work. I spent most of the afternoon cleaning the outdoor kitchen, which was dusty and cobwebbed after 5 months of sitting idle.

Now I am sitting on the porch with a soundtrack of crickets, a distant tractor, and the neighbor's obnoxious goose.

There was a part of me that was disappointed I didn't step out of the truck, take a deep breath of country air, and decide "now I am happy." I even felt a little uneasy this afternoon wondering when, and if, this happiness might strike. And what did it mean if it didn't?

I finished cleaning the kitchen and found G in the field, spreading chicken manure. I asked if he wanted help, but he suggested I go get settled. I unpacked, then went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea. I wrote a little bit, stared out at the trees, sipped tea. I realized that I am learning something important; I am learning that happiness does not just happen. No environment, person, thing, or circumstance is going to make me happy. These things can enhance life and contribute much joy, peace, companionship... But happiness has to come from within. (It's amazing how many times I have heard some variation of this, but never really understood until recently.)

Happiness requires legwork. I am used to running on a fuel of negativity, anxiety, rumination. I think i have to actively wean myself of this, and replace it with acceptance and a sense of being present in the moment. Luckily I have a beautiful place in which to practice.

I looked up a few minutes ago and realized the trees in front of me are loaded with small fruit. A peach and a fig. Rain is predicted for tomorrow, so in a bit G and I are going to roll up the row covers.

Light, steady rain. Going out to the farm today, and I am glad it is raining. Rain is comforting, and softens my nerves.

G was worried he hadn't completed enough in terms of his host duties (the outdoor kitchen needs a cleaning, and the blackberry bushes are climbing wild around the cabin) but I assured him I didn't mind- I just want to be out there and start working.