Pie at the farm stand at 7 am - apple, raspberry, rhubarb, blueberry; tomato baseball in late August at Miriam Street; planting squash in early May in the late afternoon, the day a perfect spring blue; countless delicious potluck lunches of astounding variety; the classic farm lunch: tomato-basil-mozzarella sandwiches, made possible by the jugs of olive oil and balsamic at the stand, Erik's bread and cheese runs, and our own unbeatable tomatoes and basil; eating Aunt Ruby's tomatoes like apples in the fields; Sundays in late fall;
teatime with Johanna, Emily and Eliza; taking down tomato stakes; harvesting potatoes (and making up silly songs about the gory of banana fingerlings); cleaning onions and garlic under sharp fall skies; spinach, mustard greens, and baby kale under tunnels of remay in late November; tractor lessons; the stand piled high with winter squash, onions, potatoes, and greens; high tomato season; washing kale veined with silver in cold water under high blue October skies; the familiar harvest board; massive July harvests of beans and peas and greens and beets and carrots, lettuce and arugula, radishes, turnips, and eggplant; taste-testing six varieties of corn every morning in August; afternoons alone in the back fields, hoeing onions, deadheading zinnias, hand weeding carrots;
the family of wild turkeys; two quarts of berries a day during strawberry season; sunlight on the torch sunflowers and dianthus in the front garden; knowing a place and being known by it.
Pie at the farm stand at 7 am - apple, raspberry, rhubarb, blueberry; tomato baseball in late August at Miriam Street; planting squash in early May in the late afternoon, the day a perfect spring blue; countless delicious potluck lunches of astounding variety; the classic farm lunch: tomato-basil-mozzarella sandwiches, made possible by the jugs of olive oil and balsamic at the stand, Erik's bread and cheese runs, and our own unbeatable tomatoes and basil; eating Aunt Ruby's tomatoes like apples in the fields; Sundays in late fall; 
teatime with Johanna, Emily and Eliza; taking down tomato stakes; harvesting potatoes (and making up silly songs about the gory of banana fingerlings); cleaning onions and garlic under sharp fall skies; spinach, mustard greens, and baby kale under tunnels of remay in late November; tractor lessons; the stand piled high with winter squash, onions, potatoes, and greens; high tomato season; washing kale veined with silver in cold water under high blue October skies; the familiar harvest board; massive July harvests of beans and peas and greens and beets and carrots, lettuce and arugula, radishes, turnips, and eggplant; taste-testing six varieties of corn every morning in August; afternoons alone in the back fields, hoeing onions, deadheading zinnias, hand weeding carrots; 
the family of wild turkeys; two quarts of berries a day during strawberry season; sunlight on the torch sunflowers and dianthus in the front garden; knowing a place and being known by it.
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