PART ONE
Our daughter Karen brings her three girls to the farm every summer for their "haycation." Mira, age 10, Laney, age 8, and Eve, age 4 arrive in Iowa from San Francisco eager to reacquaint with their farm pets and country cousins. My mission is to provide them with the same kind of memories I had as a kid. We pulled weeds out of the beans together. Eve helped clean the chicken coop. They buried and mourned the death of Kasha our dog, who Mira observed, was older in dog years than Grandpa. They delighted in the homecoming of the new puppy, Maisy. The rule was that they had to taste everything out of the garden. Beets were tough! There the beautiful ruby and white gems sat on their plates, totally unappreciated. But Grandma's rule was firm--at least one bite. Oh, triumph as Laney and Eve not only cleaned their plates but asked for more. We "did" the county fair and Grandpa and his friend, Emmet took them on a fishing trip to Bill's farm pond. Sixty blue gills later they proudly presented our supper to me. Ah, yes, it was a wonderful July.
PART TWO
The middle of August promised to bring our garden dreams to fruition. though everything was late, we were getting our first tomatoes. I had to chuckle when I went to the garden and saw bright pink labels hanging from the tomato trellises. Kumari was labeling all of her varieties of heirloom tomatoes. Beautiful purple and white globes were hanging from the eggplants. Peppers of all sizes, colors, shapes, and degree of hotness abounded. The okra was enjoying the heat that was plaguing us humans. This was the year for the old peach and pear tree. Their branches were so laden that the chickens could peck at the green fruit on the peach tree. And then last night! We stood in our kitchen--before we retreated to the basement--and watched in dumbstruck awe as the heavens pelted our house and cars with hailstones the size of golf and tennis balls. In the space of fifteen minutes it was over. We surveyed the damage the house and then anxiously went down the hill to the garden. Mother Nature had taken her weed-eater and left an acre of broken, stripped plants. The produce on the ground looked like an animal had taken bites out of it. The pink labels were gone!
PART THREE
Why at 3 am? Because I was laying in bed next to holden, our 2 1/2 year old grandson, who was afraid to sleep in his crib. I awoke and looked at his sweet blond curls against the pillow and thought, "We are blessed." Unlike some of our friends in this part of Iowa, we still have a roof--albeit it is leaking right now--over our heads and we have each other. And it is August 19th. The sun will shine in the next couple of days and we can replant our fall crops. Although we can not continue to provide our CSA families, we are so grateful that we were able to connect with them for half the season. So tomorrow we don our boots, jeans, and gloves, take a deep breath and attack! Yes, it's August 19th and the sun will shine again.
P.S. Grandpa just found me and with sleep laden eyes mumbled, "If that's a list you're making, put duct tape on it. We used it all last night on the car windows, " and then ambled back to bed. But not before he turned around and said, "And oh yeah, you girls should still get that new weed-eater. The sun will shine again."
