Golden Days of Summer

"August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time."

- Sylvia Plath

August is a strange time for a Vermont farm. It's still high summer, and peak production time. We've moved on from planting and prepping to harvesting and selling. We're churning out pounds and pounds of tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, eggplant, and summer squash. The abandoned plum and peach trees on the farm have been producing more than we can harvest, and I've loved taking any excuse to walk by and munch a piece of fruit. The melons are ripe, and last week we harvested the first ears of sweet corn and sliced into the first glorious watermelon--two of my favorite summer indulgences.

The first watermelon of summer

Yet...you can already sense things winding down in preparation for the cold months to come. We're beginning to till some of our beds, and the mornings and evenings are getting the tiniest bit chillier every day. A few weeks ago we turned under our snow and snap peas, which we had been harvesting since the earliest days of summer. And even our precious sungold cherry tomatoes--quite possibly the most delicious tomatoes ever--have seen better days (although we're still overwhelmed by our weekly tomato harvest).

I love this paradox: the land is giving and producing in full abundance, even as we begin to prepare for hibernation mode. I love the transition of the seasons, enjoying these last golden days of summer while eagerly anticipating brisk fall air, apple cider, and the legendary New England autumn colors. And I love feeling so in tune with the changing seasons, knowing that every change in the weather, every change in the day's length, is impacting how our crops will produce.

But fall is not here yet! This week has been a scorcher, with temperatures and humidity that make me think I'm back in DC or Georgia, not balmy Vermont. It's pretty rough being in the fields when it's this hot (and one of the big reasons I think I couldn't be a full-time professional farmer--I don't do well in heat!). But some little piece of me kind of likes it...harvesting beans in the midday sun may make me want melt into a puddle, or go hide in the walk-in cooler, but it still feels good to be outside and feel the sun on my arms, instead of in an unnaturally climate-controlled building.

I'm on CSA rotation this month, my first rotation on our home farm. The CSA and farmstand rotations comprise the harvest crew, since we're the two groups that distribute our produce to customers. I love being on harvest crew and having a real sense of just how much the farm is producing right now. The cooler is filled an insane amount of food, and it's so fun to pack up the CSA boxes on Tuesdays and Thursdays and imagine how excited our members will be to see this week's goodies. After all, growing food for other people is why we do what we do! I love getting to see all our hard work pay off in feeding our community.

Peppers galore

Yes, it's sad to see the summer go--not least because we've now crossed the halfway point in the program. Everyone seems acutely aware that we're on the downhill slide of our time here, making the last days of summer all the more precious. I'm starting to think more seriously about what I want to do after I complete the program and will start researching and reflecting more intensely in the coming weeks. 

But there's still more fun to be had, and I'm taking advantage of all the sun, swimming, and lazy warm days I can before they're gone. Some farm friends and I participated in the Farmer Olympics last week, which was a fun opportunity to hang out with some other local growers. We tried our hardest, but sadly didn't place; what we lacked in skill we definitely made up for in enthusiasm. My sister was here this past weekend, and we spent a few perfect summer days enjoying the farm, farmers market, and Vermont's natural beauty and delicious food. I'm looking forward to basking in a few more warm sunsets on the shores of Lake Champlain, farm-fresh watermelon in tow.

Summer in Vermont can't be beat