No ER This August!

     True to form, Augusts find me slammed more than any other month of the year (including December) thanks to this farm and garden thing, so much so that when I stopped to think back, I came to realize the last 3 landed me in the ER for one reason or another. First year, it was a brown recluse bite; second year, I judged a pie contest at the county fair totally forgetting that in my 20s I battled Crohn's. (Let's just say I can no longer brag on a 20-year "sympton free" run). Third year found me flat out tired. (Turns out I was anemic. Not sure whose blood they gave me, but I was sure happy to get it.)
     While clearly each of these are separate scenarios, they do share one common denominator and that is the guilt I feel when I can't pick it all, pickle it all, freeze it all or even find homes for it all once the harvest comes in. Given this inevitability (i.e. that what you plant in the spring, WILL show up in the fall) the combination of trying (and failing), coupled with the sheer, raw guilt of seeing a tomato rot on the vine or an okra grow 12 " long because you skipped a day of picking...well guess what? Turns out stressing over these things can do you in ...even weaken an immune system or else it can leave you so exhausted you forget to shake the jeans you left lying on the bathroom floor and a spider bites you!

     For that reason, I entered this year with a new mantra: No ER in August! (Actually, I didn't come up with it. My workers did, but I'm on board with it...Almost printed up bumper stickers.) This year I decided to plan ahead. First, we added a new freezer. (I now have 3.) And I blocked off time to just BE with the corn and the okra and the . . . (whatever came up today that needs tending to before it rots). What's more, (and this was even more important)  I forgave myself when the kitchen looked like a bomb went of in it -- for two weeks. (Turns out those who dropped by during this period didn't mind a bit; amazing how forgiving your friends can be when you send 'em packing with a basket of veggies!)

     Likewise, starting late last month, I made it a point to never leave the house without a car full of whatever came up that day (which means if you're my bank teller, my oil changer, my postal person, or the person who parks beside me in the parking lot, Congratulations! You've just won some okra!... or "Lucky you-- it's Tomato Tuesday!" (You should've seen the expression on Watermelon Wednesday.)
     In short it occurred to me that what made August so difficult was the fact that while most farmers  grow a garden just to GET to this month, I grew mine for other reasons (i.e. to learn how to do it, to spend time with Thurman or Miss Duff hearing stories of how their parents did it, to take pretty pictures for the next cookbook, etc.). In other words, the veggies were an afterthought (so much so that trying to make up for having not made them a "fore thought" found me scrambling...and worse--stressing.)
     If a garden is about anything, it's about life, and if life is about anything, it's about enjoying...savoring...BEing fully present for it.  That's why this August, we took a different tact. Having learned long ago that definition of insanity (doing the same thing over and over and hoping for a different outcome) we decided that in order to enjoy things like last month's blue moon or this month's gorgeous sunsets and meteor showers, we'd be wise to change our plan...Take time to savor each elemental part of the process, just as I had taken time to savor the earlier parts that I love so much (like planting, and tilling, and yes, even weeding...i.e. the process).
     For in the end,  let's face it -- it's ALL about the process. If you miss the joy in that, you've missed the point entirely. (My experience anyway...So far, so good. Of course, we've still got half a month to go, so knock wood and say a prayer!)

Given the amount of this stuff I've given away,
I've decided to call it Okra- Win-Free!

   
   

Green Acres is the Place to Be

           

            As yesterday’s blog will attest, this day was cast before it began…

            Only you can’t really “cast” a day in the country. You can only, kinda start one and then hang on for the ride…

            I was given strict instructions to pick Rosey up by 7:45 at the big S&N (Spay and Neuter clinic over in Gallatin). Seems things pick up steam after 8, and by the looks of things, I’d say Thursdays are cat days.

            At the mercy of my friend with the truck and given that same said friend had cats in need of “fixin’” …we were two for two on the ol early morning drive to Gallatin heading towards a clinic where we could now be staff.

            In a scene I could only title “What a difference a day makes” …we arrived back at the same, said clinic, at approximately same said hour….only to find a line out the door looking lots like a Walmart day after Thanksgiving. There were cats in carriers; cats in crates; cats in little kid’s arms. Seems someone put out a memo saying “Today is get your kitty spayed day” and everyone clipped the ad. I’ve never seen so many cat people (nor have I seen so many cats)…It was a 180 opposite of Rosey’s check in the day before.

            Ever the co-dependent, simplifier in moments such as these, I hit the scene hoping to help, thus was doubly grateful when one of the staff whistled “Pssst…Hey….You~ Meet me out back”  which I did. . . only to be greeted by Rosey …all belly-shaved and druggy happy. Having swapped her ovaries for a microchip and a tattoo (seemed a fair trade to me) I was told Rosey refused their food, but she was plenty happy with the drive thru we managed on our way home J (I know. I know. The paperwork forbade this, but hey… Rosey spent her first night ever in a cage. Work with me people. Work with me.)

            Having blocked off my day to work from home, it was “Farm-ville 101” in the truest sense of the word as I used the day to catch up while Rosey napped off her drugs.

Catch up on a farm includes pulling crops, picklin’ cukes, freezing corn and basically stashing away all the produce one girl can stash between talking on my blue tooth and making notes for business meetings to come. (Yes, at some point I have to leave my little doggie /goat haven and head into the city to do business things…otherwise, dogs, goats and girls don’t eat)…But today was Rosey’s day to have her mama at home. At least I was able to check on her regularly and stop every so often when she’d go belly up to show me her stitches, reminding me that this was her day to be pampered.