THINKING AHEAD.

It seems some sort of evil joke that the hottest weeks of the year are also the time of the biggest bounty in the garden - meaning I must spend hours and hours in a boiling hot kitchen, standing over a steaming pot,  cooking down tomatoes and canning food for winter. Each time I think I am done, I head out to our wash/pack shed and fine MORE tomatoes. Bins and bins of beautiful, ripe tomatoes. And I cannot let them go to waste. My future self calls out to me through time, telling me how much she is enjoying having tomatoes on a cold, snowy day. I hear her, and I obey. I can some more, I shuck and freeze corn, ball the leftover melons. Thinking and planning ahead, providing for our family and trying to make a little bit of this summer feeling of abundance stretch into those lean winter months.I am starting to get a little bit burned-out on plain old tomatoes, though. Last night I canned ketchup, and next, I'm thinking about sun-dried tomatoes. How do you preserve your tomatoes? Anybody tried freezing them?-Hannah.

THE FEVER.

Every year, from May until Julyish––it's not much of a science––things get hard on the farm. Not just physically hard, but emotionally, too. I go through this period of feeling totally and utterly overwhelmed. There is so much work to do, and try as I may it doesn't seem to decrease with effort. It increases, mockingly. The feeling is hard to explain. In some ways, it feels like ordinary stress. In other ways, it sorta feels hopeless.But I've also learned that this overwhelmed feeling acts very much like a fever. It builds and builds and builds until the point in which I wonder if I can even go on another week. Then without warning it just disappears, and my mood returns like "Hey what's up?" I suddenly feel completely normal again. I suddenly feel healthy and happy. I suddenly feel like what we do is possible.It's uncanny how reliable it is––that the fever will come and the fever will break at some point in time. But also, I'm glad it's reliable. The first year I had it, I really thought I was not going to be able to survive as a farmer. Then in late July it broke and I was back to normal, excited to be a farmer again. Sane.Is it avoidable? Not sure. I think the more set-up we become on our farmstead, and the better I become at planning and managing the farm––yes. Yes, it will at least one day become a smaller, or more tolerable fever. But until then I have to rely on the fact that it will come, but it will also go away eventually. It is not terminal. This too shall pass. Take a nap, eat some tomato sandwiches, and call me in the morning. If I can keep that in mind, I will always make it through, like I did this week. Like I do every year. Like always.- Jesse.

THIS & THAT.

Some random photos from the past week.Further loves sweet peppers...and his bouncy swing.All the rain has filled the forest with fun mushrooms. We seem to find a new kind every day! Oh, summer harvests.The shiitake logs are looking great! The white means its working.Making bouquets for market. 

ONION HARVEST.

Things on the farm have been a little chaotic, lately. If you have been wondering where we've been: Cher broke her leg (and is 7 months pregnant, by the way!) We had nearly 10 inches of rain, basically all at once. A giant tower of stacked soil block trays toppled over in the greenhouse. So, yes, I'm sure you are tired of hearing it, we are busy.But things are good! Cher is healing well, the weeds are insane but the food is still growing, the gardens are beginning to dry. We harvested onions a few days ago, and Further was complete trooper in the 95 degree heat. It was a somewhat sad harvest, as the recent deluge of rain was not kind to the onions, but we are glad to have them out! They are all laid out on woven wire fencing in the greenhouse, where they can hopefully dry out in the intense sun. After we get the potatoes dug, all of our "major" summer projects are finished....I'm already dreaming of the ease of the fall garden!- Hannah.