Let's invite Pablo Neruda to a picnic.
" Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly. "
Or a praying mantis. Although, they waver and weave more, less trembling.
That lusty poet and Chilean diplomat Pablo Neruda really knew how to put words together. And while I doubt he ever spent time in the coastal prairies of Texas, he has managed to aptly describe the current feeling at the farm. It won't last long, for we've lived here long enough to know that we hover right at the precipice of hot summer and a summer that wears itself like a too-tight wool sweater, stealing our breath and slowing our steps.
But like I said, that's not right now. Whew.
Right now, McFarmer is doing a stellar job of keeping the aisles between our rows clean and tilled, the okra are growing tall, the enormous storm of last week managed to spare us for the most part, the rough wind has graciously lessened into a strong breeze and you can feel life humming through the air. We'll take it.
Much to my dismay, I've had less time than normal out at the farm over the past few days as I work on getting the first of two grants completed for Galveston's Own Farmers Market. Stooping over the computer isn't my favorite, but it isn't all bad. I thoroughly enjoy the updates I receive from my favorite farming partner---perhaps you already saw this gem of Petey & McFarmer examining a cicada outside the greenhouse (this might be the best demonstration of what those 2 do all day).
Tuesday, around 2pm, right when I was feeling worried about Alex working straight through the day with maybe a cucumber and a string cheese for lunch (he's wont to do that when I'm not around to whine for picnics) I received a photo that put the biggest smile on my face:
Now THAT'S a smart farmer. Work hard, hammock hard, I always say. Or at least, I do now. ( And try your best NOT to examine too closely those crocs Alex is wearing. They really are grosser than you can imagine. But, the McFarmer likes what he likes. And he put up that hammock for moi, so I like 'em too.)
Try to follow my advice (one of the only times I'll say this) and find your own hammock, whether metaphorical or real and swinging, and remember how much we appreciate every bit of your support while we farm through the summer. And fall. Spring. And winter, too.
May we all enjoy these bright and green June days while they last!