The Summer Harvest Spirit
Notes from the frontline of a near-perfect gardening season.
Where’s Tiffany? There are a handful of common answers to that question and “in the garden” ranks pretty high on that list. In all seriousness though, that is exactly where Tiffany is.
I do not exaggerate when I say this has been the best gardening season I’ve witnessed since we purchased our current residence in 2019. Most years are pretty good, don’t get me wrong. I’ve really yet to witness a bad garden at this house. But something … something… is different this year.
I’ve gone over the possibilities in my mind a few times, as I’m out there filling up half bushel baskets of every variety of produce, and those possibilities range from potentially logical to downright mystical. We switched our beds to no-dig gardening this year, for one. That means that instead of turning over our soil, we applied a heavy layer of compost and planted directly into it. That in itself may account for some of the success.
Another possibility: my energy and time have been far more available this season. I’ve been able to get out there and manage each crop with something approaching better stewardship.
A third, more woo but increasingly plausible factor has also been floated. I put our household on a seasonal (and spiritual) cycle several years ago, one that aligns with nature-based guidelines. We observe lunar planting cycles, equinoxes and solstices, and planting and harvesting “festivities” when we can. That means, yes, lighting a candle on the altar at the solstice, but it also means the gardening season begins when the season really starts to turn in early February. (You can track this season all the way back to my pre-Imbolc post here or find any number of other examples under Rhythms.)
“There are seasons for reflection and seasons for rest and seasons for simply celebrating a spectacular harvest as its unfolding.”
For the past few years, I’ve started to notice things in the house and the garden coming more and more into alignment, in both small and more observable ways. When its time for blackberry hand pies, blackberry jam magically appears. Many things feel less rushed, clover bloom is plentiful, pumpkin crops become thanksgiving pies. Often, what used to require tracking and effort on my part now seems to happen in an almost automated way, though the automation is very much unseen. Let’s just leave it at: the effect has become noticeable to everyone living in the household.
And this year’s garden, currently still unfolding, is a very observable example of that effect. I’ve put back nearly 18 jars of pickles and 6 large jars dehydrated of pickle chips, just from the cucumbers alone. The beans, which I thought were going to be a bust this year, have become steady producers. Most of my hot pepper plants are nearly as tall as I am and they’re all loaded down with peppers. Tomatoes also are fairing well this year. And the cantaloupe … (I grow Minnesota Mini Melon). I’ve been referring to it as mana from Larry. Just yesterday, two of them ripened perfectly and separated themselves from the vine. I came out to find them sitting neatly atop their respective straw mounds just waiting to be harvested.
Now don’t get me wrong, with such a harvest comes so much labor. I’m spending an hour or so a day on outside work, and between one and two hours most days processing and preserving what’s coming in. I didn’t actively plan for that kind of time commitment and I grumble about it a little more often than I should, if I want to keep these nature spirits happy, haha. But, honestly, it’s a good problem to have.
I thought hard about writing a reflective post about the experience, both the delight and the frustration, of having your garden ideals come to fruition (mostly, within reason). But, I realized, there are seasons for reflection and seasons for rest and seasons for simply celebrating a spectacular harvest as its unfolding. So, in that summer harvest spirit, here’s a buttload of garden photos.
