July rain.

One more day to the fourth. I can hardly believe it. The spring has whisked by in a whirlwind of five harsh weeks of rain, hardly a speck of sun in site. Two of the worst growing years in twenty years, some say 200. This is our start. And we push on.
Today was a market day. Up before dawn, hoodie on to protect from the hungry mosquitos that seem, after all this rain to be at full force in the dewy gardens at first light. I slip out of the house leaving Sarah curled up beside J and L in her sleeping bag on my bedroom floor snoring softly. We have one air conditioner in our home. It happens to be in our bedroom, so camp-outs are a regular part of summer for our girls, somehow Sarah-bug finds herself entwined in Mammas arms though, and not on the grey rug tucked in next to her big sissy in the sleeping bag where she begins the night.
It was a frustrating harvest for me, at one point I had to hold back tears. The lettuces had been so battered, the next succession for the CSA and market tables. The soft buttercrunch and delicate leaves of the butterheads had been hit hard as the rain came in buckets..days of the hardest work hanging by a thread...more then 4 inches in two hours the eve before. The beautiful romaines lay spread open on the ground, more then fifty left unpicked, and so sad. I cut as many down as I could. I had given myself two hours before I needed to begin work at the wash station (galvanized wash tubs set up on a table, along with cutting boards, skimmers, scrub brushes, a salad spinner, an old enameled washboard sided; farmhouse sink on wooden horses..primitive but does the job well) I made my way down the row salvaging for salad mix, the best I could do...munching along my way on the dew filled leaves and on to the arugula which was drenched at the base and showing signs of rot.. too much rain. Some were bolting and beginning to flower. I cut the best I could, chopping away at the best leaves. Kale bunches, rainbow chard check. Tall green onions, one thing the rain has blessed in abundance. A huge tub of sugar snap peas..and a few more items. Fresh eggs, truck loaded, thousands of kisses and off I went, the exits whirling by. A busy market, heaped with kind words and smiles, good music, good food, good friends and company, a sold out table.. my spirits lifted. This is what I do. I feed people. Children with snap peas hanging from their mouths, families tucking salad mix into their bags. Fresh kale and collards and loving gratitude. Farmer and consumer. A handshake, a smile. So blessed.
Still this rain has got me down. I return to my dishes washed, more hugs and kisses and the kale and chard completely weed free. Feeling blessed again.
But those spring greens.. the rows of rain beaten sadness. I began ripping. Row after row after row. Piling high the weeds, the greens, the sweat, the soil, the heartache, the backache. And I will trudge on. I needed to see it all gone. A monster compost heap. Tomorrow a good tilling and a fresh start. Trays of sweet lettuce heads wait patiently for their soil home in the greenhouse. Kales, arugula, chards, we will begin again. We hope that July will see sun and the harvest will go on.
So many farms are hurting far more then us. The beginnings of summer squash are finding us this week, the peas are still coming strong, some lettuce was saved for my beautiful and patient CSA family.  The fordhook chard is coming fast and strong and the rows of rainbow will soon be blooming again.
And I push on. Blessed to grow, blessed for my families never ending support.