There is frost under the irrigation sprinklers in the neighbors pasture. Hmmmm, so bittersweet. I mourn fresh basil and internally scold myself for not making my 6th batch of pesto, while at the same time I read recipes for winter squash before bed at night. My Montana garden is so temporary, it is such a feast or famine. We are in high gear time still, so much to be done, and yet, my motivation is slowing, just like the ripening of the berries.
Ah, the berries. The fall bearing varieties are LOADED with fruit yet to ripen. The wasps and bees buzz all day in the sun, still polinating with vigor. And yet, these cool Montana nights are seeming to prove that we may not be suited to host fall berries so well here. Last year the plants just came to a slow halt, those lovely fruits never reaching their potential. Maybe a warm spell into September will come and we will be creating a winter squash with raspberry syrup dessert. Maybe not, but I bet we will at least get one nectarine raspberry crisp from it.
We had farm friends all week here, what a treat. I can still not believe how fast and joyful projects are with just one other person. I have come to peace with my “One woman farm” model for the most part, but I do start to feel like I am missing the big picture when I have willing, eager, excited help by my side.
