It has been a busy week here. Our cherry crop came on (and suddenly) with the arrival of some hot weather, and my sons helped me pick everything. We just have the one cherry tree, but this year it was bountiful. I was able to make a cobbler, and I still have enough to do at least two more pies! The part I enjoy is that from here on out, every year will bring significant increases in the yields. Barring strange weather, of course.
But that’s the thing; you just have to trust that it will all work out. It feels like I am forever learning that lesson. Thank goodness God is patient with me. Every time I am afraid, He draws me out of whatever hole I have created for myself.
I spend the rest of my week preparing more radish relish (and canning it) and baking stuff with the cherries. Our garden is producing well right now, we were able to enjoy a nice beet green and swiss chard salad with radishes and tomato over the 4th of July. I am excited for my eggplants and zucchini to come on so I can make “ratatouille,” a French vegetable casserole. It has its origins as a “peasant’s dish,” presumably because all the vegetables it takes to make are easily grown in large quantities, for cheap. I love to add mushrooms and some type of meat — beef or chicken — to give it some extra substance.
Yesterday we spent out in the creek. Aside from moving our irrigation for our hayfield (a daily occurrance), we had to close off our springtime water diversion (for cow water) so it doesn’t cause problems when the water raises again with the autumn rains in a couple months. As we were moving rocks back where we got them from, we found a bunch of fish and crawdads that had gotten stuck in a little tidepool when the heat caused the water level to sink. Some of the crawdads were huge (the biggest was almost as long as my hand!). My oldest LOVED putting them back in the water, and we spent several minutes rescuing the stranded waterlife.
Farmers often get a bad rap in mainstream culture as being cold, unfeeling, or so focused on profit to the detriment of the land they own. It makes my heart hurt, because nothing could be further from the truth. If we used our land instead of stewarding it, we wouldn’t have land to keep farming. And for all of us who have chosen this ancient way of life, it is a generations old lifestyle, handed down from father and mother to sons and daughters. We all know that kindness matters, compassion matters. Like our savior, we treat “the least of these” with love.
We couldn’t save all the stranded crawdads and fish, but we could save what we could. We could save what we had hands and time to to carry.
When we returned to the house, I was excited to see the hatching had begun!
Earlier in the week I discovered that the Say’s Phoebes we have hanging out here around the house — they are a variety of eastern Washington flycatcher — have built a nest on top of one of my kitchen windows. I love hearing them twitter and sing in the evenings. I stood on a chair and peeked in their nest and lo! Two eggs and a new hatchling. New life is beautiful!
That evening, while the kids were playing in the sprinklers on our fruit trees, I got some much-needed music time. Before I had children, I used to write and perform a LOT. I self-produced two albums and a couple EPs, and was always writing, writing, writing. I never particularly enjoyed the performing part of things (I don’t exactly care to be the center of attention), but I LOVED songwriting. Since having children, I think I have managed to complete one song! Now that my children are getting older and not so dependent 24/7, I have been trying to get back into writing. I took my ukulele and notebook out on the front porch, poured myself a drink, and soaked in the evening.
Bliss.
Take care!