The equinox has returned us once again to Summer and the farm continues along her rhythm into the season of high reproduction and biodiversity. The friction of so many beings in the valley has given all of the plants in need of pollination ample opportunity to make love to the honey bees and butterflies. Praying Mantis adolescents that were the size of fingernails a month ago have matured to the size of clothespins, and have spread among the different fields in the garden, hunting for easy prey in their territories. Our cow and sheep are living easy on lush green pasture, and our pigs get the best (and "worst,") of the garden scraps. During a time when the highest amount of nutrients is transferred from the soil and atmosphere directly into something beautiful and edible, it's hard not to feel invincible.
Though to be invincible would be to remove yourself from the very things that sculpt your creative spirit and willpower, and what a limitation that would be. I am quickly reminded and humbled by my mortality when I sit out in the garden and watch before my eyes the beautiful gesture of decay and regeneration. The Earth is in a constant ebb and flow and during this time of year it is almost as if you can hear it. Some of the first cucumbers and squash have been celebrated in dishes with sweet basil and the beans and tomatoes are sharing their first blooms. The farm, ever full of grace as she is, is transforming herself once again into hot passion and lush, bountiful harvests.
The flourishing nature of the plants and animals during this time of year begs of us to try and keep up. Our work days are their longest, and yet the Sun stays out to help make it possible. This farm invites us to dance with her, to let her lead us and challenge us. The physicality of this time of year connects us deep within our bones to a time when we relied on the strength of our bodies and the cunning of our minds to survive. All the while, we are invited to participate in the creation, to paint the landscape in colors and shapes of our choosing and the farm will allow it, so long as we choose nurture over neglect.
I am grateful for the opportunity to share another season of High Sun with the Valley. It is this very point in the growing season that I long for during the winter months and I couldn't imagine experiencing this time of year in any other setting. The more my hands dig into this North Georgia soil, the more rooted they become. The Summer Solstice rests at the very height of the farm's imaginings and I open myself up to the possibilities.