Sometimes I think my vocation is farming. Is it simply the generations upon generations of farmers from which I descend that infuses me with this love of the land and it's bounty? I take for granted my farmer self – this joy of creating an edible landscape. It is a mere hobby, an interest that I dabble in. Sure it is. That's why I spend the daylight hours when I am home out in my garden – plotting, planting, tending and harvesting. That explains the sense of pure contentment when I sit down to eat a salad with my own produce picked about an hour earlier.
Occasionally I have visions of converting the back acre into rows of corn or pumpkins or an orchard of apple trees for cider. And those are dreams that I smile with, acknowledging that part of me that sees the land as a useable pallet for the creation of sustenance. For now, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for the bounty that is spilling out of my beds at the moment. The pounds and pounds of cherries that we've picked over the last two weeks; the tomatoes ripening on the vine and the herbs beginning to flower. Soon I will have beans to eat and dry; cucumbers and zucchini; and of course tomatoes. Carrots and beets are waiting to be picked and canned. The pumpkins are flowering and the blueberry bush is full. And then there are freshly tilled rows waiting for the next planting – the winter squashes and more lettuce.
Acknowledging where my heart is and allowing myself to follow its call is deeply satisfying. I know that with Autumn my thoughts will circle back to other work, other passions. Until then, I can't help but want to step out into my garden and watch the world grow around me.
It's a bountiful summer.
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