According to the vegetable garden, summer’s over. The squash plants look like they got cooked, and the parsley looks like it fell asleep.
Secretly, the frosting and subsequent toppling over of the garden is a big relief to me. I worked hard all spring and summer figuring out how to get plants to grow. (As farmer-in-training at Spirit Hill, I have officially mastered the art of both under- and over-watering at the same time, a party trick I have yet to be requested to perform.) Soon into this whole business of put seed into dirt and watch something green and hopeful emerge, I got, well, obsessive. Just how many varieties of kale are there? Of arugula? Of tomatoes? Of squash? And what the heck is a mouse melon, and should I plant one or five?
The local nursery, Harmony, is a five-minute drive from Spirit Hill. I bet I could make it there in three minutes if I didn’t see the stop signs or pedestrians or traffic lights. I feel it is a marker of my sanity that so far I haven’t felt compelled to get there like I was an ambulance driver.
But it has been tempting.
New plants! Run!!
This kind of excitement is A) thrilling and B) slightly tiring.
So, C) While I will miss the excitement of finding new types of celery (pink!) to plant until spring rolls back into town, I cherish the time to D) do less.
Often people come to Spirit Hill to D).
Spirit Hill is the most excellent place to do less. Nature works its tail off all around you while you get to sit under the shade of the trellised kiwi and watch the birds cross the sky.
You can even close your eyes and nap.
Or you can get up and do more. You can play bocce ball and then jump in the (heated) pool and cause a ruckus and have another kind of most wonderful time.
You just can’t pick squash.
I think you’ll survive.