between the raindrops

the sun is making longer appearances these last couple days, greeting us even for stretches of a few hours before hiding away to yet again make way for thunder and rain, rain, rain.  the garden, on the surface, responds well to all the rain, but down below is another story, perhaps.  I pulled all of the garlic, not wanting to lose any more to rotting wetness, or whatever it was that claimed so many of the bulbs.  I watch the tomatoes, some of the lower leaves on some of the plants just starting to yellow and spot, and I think about the wet weather as the perfect scenario for blight and other things to spread.

I spoke to farmers at the tailgate market on Saturday, hearing stories of early fall plantings being washed away and how the bank doesn't care to hear such stories, of course.  And so as I place the garlic in the woodshed, I feel grateful that my livelihood doesn't rely on the weather, as it would were I a real farmer.  Feel happy that even with the loss we probably now have garlic enough for ourselves until we grow more next year.  And that even if all of my tomatoes eventually succumb to blight, as they surely will, that I'll still get to enjoy many of them fresh and put some up for later in the year, and that really, it's okay.  I like to think we'd make it as real farmers.  Like to think that that's the world we hope to find ourselves in one day.  But who knows.  I'm quite pleased to be able to supply ourselves with garlic and maple syrup, hopefully honey.  And lots of goodness during the growing season and a little bit beyond.  Usually that feels like enough.  More than enough, even.

Yesterday, between the raindrops, I went to the garden and looked around.  Squished some bean beetles and fed Japanese beetles to Margaret (she's a hen, don't worry).  I brought the basket with all of our seeds out, in case I decided to plug some things in where the garlic had been, or replace a few things here or there.  Later, the rain returned, in full force.  Today we've actually been spared the rain all day and after a walk to town I went again to look around the garden.  Picked some squash, wondered why the zucchini isn't nearly as productive as the yellow crookneck this year, and then, with some expletives shouted out, made the unfortunate discovery of the basket.  Operation dry-out-the-seeds is currently underway on my kitchen floor.  Operation figure-out-what-to-use-to-hold-the-seeds-once-dry soon to be undertaken, as well.  And again I am grateful that it's just this little garden I've got to worry about, and not acres upon acres of green and growing.