Sunday, Oct 5th
My hands ache.
I have been busting up heads of garlic all day, and my hands ache.
It is a pleasure.
It's a sit-down-pull-up-a-chair-have-a-beer-and-a-brat kind of day, down here on Dan and Allison's garlic farm.
Look what Bennett found growing in the compost!
October is supposedly harvest time. Time to gather in the few remaining tomatoes before the frost, and pluck the last squashes from their vines. Time to store, save, prepare for the long dark winter ahead.
The Harvest Moon just passed. This is not planting time!
And yet today, from the back of a tractor, we put garlic cloves in the ground, one by one by one.
They will have to survive a long winter filled with icy winds and snow drifts and freezing temperatures. Planting at any time is an act of faith, but planting in the fall is jumping off a cliff and believing you can fly.
To have such faith in the resurrection that you start planting its seeds when everything else is dying seems contrary and absurd. I like it.
It just doesn't seem possible for the little cloves to stay alive under there all winter, only to regale us with their perfection in the summer.
I can't wait to return in July and pluck up that which is planted.