anaging a farm, like managing any wild beast constantly working to rip off its party dress while you force a teacup and saucer into its paw, is an exercise in sweat and repeated attempts. And cursing.
We've got lots going on this week, tons of time to make up for after a few days absence (here's to family visits and lovely weddings!) and a high number of things to scratch off The List before the next few weeks are out...
Weeding, weeding, cleaning the barn, setting up the washstand, harvesting for market and orders, planting, mowing the orchard,weeding--seriously, this list is predictable but formidable.
But who am I kidding? The List will always remain long and we'll always have those numerous goings-on. I will never feel the barn is organized enough, Alex will always have to order the missing part to the tractor/weedeater/saw and we'll both always feel like the unpruned trees in the orchard are taunting us by flail-waving with their gawky, ant-ravaged limbs. And apart from all that-- I'm not the only boob on this rock with "The List." We can't all have such vital to-dos and recognize it's all a little silly.
o let's say
Let me tell you something lovely about having a companion in this enterprise.
Sometimes, after companion has been otherwise saying "Did you remember to file that receipt? Did you log the mileage?" and "We can't disc that bed, we've got to fix the irrigation on those cucumbers! They're gonna DIE!!!!", companion gets to say,
"Everything's gonna be ok. Don't worry about it."
If you're anything like me, there's the occasional stressball that makes itself known by imposing a sense of Life-Altering Importance to OtherWise-Not-Important-Goober-Like Activities. And in these situations, it helps to have a companion--in my case, chivalric McFarmer--reminding you to cool it. Just let it go.
Also, it helps to have wildflowers everywhere and watermelon babies planted in your field right before a delicious heavy rain begins to fall. In fact, it's amazing. These babes are draped along the road out to the farm, and they make my morning--they got there on their own , and yet I get to enjoy them. Our watermelons had been looking rough, and longing to get in the soil--we got lucky with a grey drizzle-covered day yesterday perfect for their move to the earth, and we had a fine time moving them.
So here you go.
And there it is. There's oodles to do. There's myriad things wrong and terrible, all the time. But we've put the watermelons in the ground, given them our hopes, and we stopped to look at wildflowers.
Alex gave me good-natured grief about stopping the car to photograph those beauties. I told him,