Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
Come farm day, I'm not even looking at the temperature now. I just assume it's going to be suck-the-air-out-of-your-lungs-and-spring-outta-your-step hot. So I wasn't disappointed when I hit the sizzling pavement after work and drove to the country.
Yes, indeed, it was hot.
I will admit there was a breeze. And that my outside job, after yanking turnips from terra firma, was washing them and the radish harvest. Me, being the less than coordinated woman that I am, managed to soak myself so thoroughly that my faux-crocs squeaked and squealed when I walked the rest of the day and my underwear finally thoroughly dried HOURS after the hose encounters.
But the water did save me from wandering lost and dazed in the tall corn. So we should all be thankful. Can you imagine the stories that would come from that kind of incident?
My musical theme music started playing in my brain when we found that we lacked zucchini but one of the farmers had harvested a few new little squash. Buttercup squash. If you've ever seen the hilariously stupid 90's gem "The Three Amigos" remember Little Ned's hit song. Ha. Ha. If you've not seen this movie (Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, Martin Short) you really, really should look into it.
The second part of farm songs (errr chants) follows: I did not have to squish bugs. I suppose, as a Vegan, I should be alarmed about squishing bugs. However, as I've pointed out, I'm a health motivated Vegan. (BTW my aunt tells me that technically I should call myself a whole-food-plant-based eater because lots of Vegans, who are of the animal rights version eat crud that doesn't do a whole lot for them healthwise. But I digress.) ... 24 was assigned tomato wrangling and squash picking. She killed lots of squash bugs and a few new little critters that come straight out of a horror movie....wait for it...wait for it. The Tomato Worm. Now, apparently this guy is about the size of a pinkie finger and squirms whilst being squeezed, so much so that the farmer said strong, strapping males recoil at the sight of a dying Tomato Worm. 24 shuddered when she told the story.
The farmer added elements of horror while she carried armloads of turnips to one of the tables for sorting. She said that these horrible little bugs even have horns, "like demons." And suddenly she burst out in a little bizarre chant of "ooh..ooh...oy." and kind of hopped skipped to the table while waving the turnips in the air.
The room grew silent. Then we slowly realized that this was no demon-begone-turnip-waving-dance-and-chant at all. She was simply trying to keep the aforementioned armload of turnips from tumbling off the table. Ahhh. Fun and games, kids. Nothing like a little heat exhaustion and talk of killing and demons to add a little spice to your life.
And. I have discovered a sweet little bonus (Oh, my, speaking of sweet. We actually shared an ear of freshly picked sweet corn. RAW. Still slightly warm from the sun. Oh, oh, my was that tasty!!!) again, I digress, remnants of sun poisoning, no doubt. The benefit is, now with all these pounds of produce coming in, there are seconds that are not fit for CSA boxes or market. A blemish, a few too many bug bites...and well, we get to take a few little misfits home with us and eat them, too. Wahhhahhahhahha.(Meet Casper, the white ghost eggplant.) Muwhahahaha