Remember the nomadic garlic that we planted last November in a friend’s family’s field?
For the past 8 months it has been doing its own thing there without even a glimpse from us until last weekend…
Harvest! Lots of weeds, but also lots of curling, delicious garlic scapes and tall, strong stalks telling us those garlic bulbs are growing right along.
We spent the day with those friends weeding, cutting the garlic scapes, watering for the garlic bulbs that would stay tucked in until August…
While Aria found beetle friends and Caden went foraging for wild strawberries and blueberries…
We headed off with our harvest, already anticipating the arugula & garlic scape pesto we’d mix up when we got home.
But for now we all happily settled into a post-weeding beach picnic. Ahhh….
As my mother said, this kind of day is just what the doctor ordered. Because really, this last month has had me thinking about taking up country music song writing…
Most of our stuff is done gone, a pile of burnt rubble,
My liver’s actin’ up and givin’ me trouble,
It’s been rainin’ for days, so construction is stuck,
Something’s wrong with the car so we squish in the truck,
Where’s the dog run to now…
I tell you I just don’t know how,
We can get the heck out of this muck.
There’s really been so much off-kilter that it’s been hard to focus on any one thing. When I have had the time to consider last month’s storage unit fire, I’ve found it interesting to realize how each part of the loss sits with me, or doesn’t.
The majority of the items were kitchen, clothing, household, seasonal items that we’ve collected over the years. This part is more inconvenience (how little I realized how much I depended on that favorite summer shirt, or how much I’d really miss that ice tea infuser) and frustration at the monetary setback that will delay our home building progress (do we really need windows…?).
There are other items that I’m sad to see go, like our wedding album, our pre-digital pictures, artifacts from the children’s growing up so far. And yet these are not what hit the hardest. Likely because those are our own history that can be recreated through our memories and other means.
What hits me the hardest are the items that feel like they were a piece of the people who gave them to us. The items I can imagine being stitched, sewn, felted, envisioned, painted, written by the giver with intention and thought. Holding those items it was almost palpable, that special connection to those people. And THAT is the loss I feel most deeply, that no amount of money can recreate. Where pictures we might still have of them can’t begin to capture the essence. I feel I want to apologize to each person who gave us these lost items, because it feels like a loss for them too, of the time and energy and love that they put in.
The past month has been one giant lesson on how no matter how much you might have a plan for life, life might be headed in directions you can’t anticipate. And you can’t always control fire, health, money, other people or pets, and you most certainly can’t control the weather. Thankfully it is New England, and for the last one it turns out that you just have to wait a bit until BOOM now it’s blazing hot and sunny, and Josh is back at the mill!
And we’re continuing our therapeutic food and laughter harvesting…
Yes, it has been a month of seemingly more downs than ups when looking at the big moments. For me, focusing in on the little moments tips things back into perspective and back to remembering that despite it all, we can still be exactly where we want to be. But here’s hoping for a bit of a smoother patch ahead. 🙂