Song Like a Seed

There is a garden that grows at night

Then in the winter it tucks in tight

Drifts off in dreams about birds in flight

Who carry the seeds of this garden’s life

~Sara Thomsen, from Song Like a Seed, 2020

Regardless of when the snow finally comes, it always seems that fall garden clean up and pre winter prep take up until the last moment! 

• Garden beds cleared and mulched with chopped leaves, pots dumped and stored
• Move chicken run for access to greenhouse (but only after greenhouse is cleared out)
• Wood split and stacked (this years' inside, next years' outside and covered)
• Remove mower deck and install snow blower on Greta (thanks to youtube videos!)
• Tuck bees in for winter; cozy cover, insulated quilt box, ventilation, fondant...
• Move hoses, blow out water lines, all furniture in, storm windows on house, ETC...

 

And every year I articulate the desire to "get it done earlier so we are not scrambling!" The reality is that it takes as long as we have...we always wish for just one more weekend...and it works out just fine - every year.

After that first thick blanket of snow, there is a feeling of deep exhale, as though I have been holding my breath the entire growing season. There is nothing more that can be done, so a deep letting go enters in that doesn't seem within reach during any other season of the year. There is a feeling of relief, of gratitude, of scarcity in the abundance, of loss and melancholy. "Did we remember to (insert task)?" "Is there enough (insert food item) for the year?" Now what!?

Meanwhile, indoors, the house is still littered with the remnants and shrapnel from the scramble.A box of squash here, green tomatoes, pole beans and ears of corn lined up on the kitchen table to dry before storing. Bags of apples and turnips lined up, waiting their turn for processing. 

The covered spaces will not be freed of their harvest until the new year approaches - or company comes and then another scramble. Each year a new "system" for some of it, perpetual experimenting on what will ease the burden of abundance. 

The reality is that this dance between outdoor and indoor tending has been going on for months. Harvest - cook some, can some. Harvest, harvest - freeze some, eat some. Repeat. The garden might be tucked in dreaming about seeds and winter, but the fruits of last year's dreaming are on the table rotting if we don't tend to it. (I am always the reality check to Sara's poetic lyrics.) 

This years WIN is the Excaliber Dehydrator! Agnus (named after my great grandmother). The only memories of her I have include her sitting at the kitchen table picking at the chicken carcass or shelling peas. Im sure she was other places and did other things but that is what my memory has marked of her.

 

SO...Agnus worked overnight while we slept, sometimes a double shift while I was at work, drying! My new obsession is filling jars with beautiful dehydrated food and sealing meals for next years camping trips. I call them Boundary Waters packets. The older (and cheap) version of a dehydrator we had almost started a fire! the hot coil was at an angle and burned right through the plastic trays AND into the wood table below. A perfect excuse to invest in a proper dehydrator. I LOVE Agnus!

And as though the timing was planned...just as the first blanket of snow tucks Nammah and the Homestead in for winter, Sara's new CD, Song Like a Seed is released. Something to sing about, for sure. 

So for now...Good night Nammah and sweet dreams!