The Most Beautiful Day of 2015 on Hawk's Hill

April 14, 2015 (posted late)

This morning, my body feels slow and stiff after a day of potato planting -- David tilled and furrowed the earth, and I cut seed potatoes, dipped them in wood ashes and planted them down the long rows.  We had fine planting weather.  Sunny and nearly 80 degrees, it was the warmest and most beautiful day of 2015 on Hawk's Hill. The song of the mockingbird in the hedgerow cherry trees cheered me as I dropped potato pieces from my basket into the soft, black earth.  Bare toes wriggling in the delectably soft spring earth, hair blowing in the breezy winds, skin relishing the kiss of the sun's warmth and the breath of the whisking winds, soul rejoicing in the mockingbird's varying tunes.  After winter's cold kept me locked away from the earth, immersing my entire being in nature felt like renewal, rejuvenation, a celebration of living.  

The day had begun with preparation of a new bed for potatoes.  David removed an old phone wire, and added compost to the bare earth while I ran errands to the post office and feed and seed, washed a load of laundry, and hung it out on the line.  Clean clothes flapping in the breeze, flats of broccoli and onion starts set out in the sunshine, tomato seedlings watered, chickens fed, eggs gathered, we finished our morning work and then snuck out to the state park for a picnic lunch and some sun-gathering.  Spring hits in a rush with long lists of projects to complete -- like replacing 700 feet of rabbit fence on the garden this year while completing the spring planting.  But, we have learned that stealing a few hours for fun makes the day more fun and the workers more productive.  

The day unfurled like a dream, lush grass, perfect earth for tilling, animals out and enjoying the sun.

After I finished planting, I sat in the verdant grass with Max flopped at my side, and admired the workings of nature.  A few notes in my garden journal, a few notations added to my garden map, a prayer of gratitude for the day and a prayer of hope for a good harvest.

David came along to ask help in catching a hen who had fluttered out of confinement.  Startled by the tiller ignition, she had flown over the electric fence and was now plucking fresh spring grass nearby.  I laced up my boots and after a few failed attempts, we caught her up between us, her wings battering our bodies.  Happily returned with her sisters, she melded back into the flock.  I admired the work David had done to soften the bottoms of the furrows with the Mantis tiller, and found a couple more Japanese beetle grubs to toss to the hens.  We talked about potato planting plans, about our lunch at the state park beach, about the cranky tiller motor, and called it a day.

As I put away my hoe in the garden shed, my ears picked up the sound of buzzing from a patch of blooming Heal-All in an un-tilled bed.  The lavender haze of blossoms amidst the mint green mounds of foliage had drawn a half dozen queen bumblebees.  Racing the setting sun to gather nectar from the diminutive flowers, the bumblers captured my attention with their hurried, rolling, blundering dance.  Pressing on as quickly as possible, they answered the need to gather, gather, faster, faster,  to feed their larval children back in an earth-sheltered home.  Smiling in gratitude for the connection with wild denizens of Hawk's Hill, I pushed on to get back to my earth-sheltered home to feed my hungry child and man.

Tugging my garden cart back up the hill to the barn, tired as the sun gilded the white clouds, I could feel my legs had strengthened over the past few weeks of outdoor work.  What a boon!  We ate a simple dinner of freeze-dried pinto beans and home-grown salad at 9:30 pm, the glow of sunshine still on our faces.

Today, I will plant more potatoes in furrows David pulled yesterday in a new potato patch.  The hens worked on the patch for several weeks at the dawn of spring, tearing up the grass and fertilizing the soil, but still, what a shock to see the thinness of the untended earth.  It had grown lush grass for years, but had not built up the thick layer of organic material that comes from manuring a garden for years.  Working in the old garden bed in my bare feet was pure delight.  The new bed still has rocks, Japanese beetle grubs, and quite a lot of clay.  I feel like I am looking back in time at our inauspicious beginnings, but back then, not only did I have poorer soil, but I knew less.  Still, the struggles built something worthy in me, taught me about pride and humility, and the power of daily labor organized and compounded over 6 years.

May you be graced with beautiful days and the kiss of sunshine this spring!
Betsy