“So, Eric,” I’m often asked, “what’s the worst thing about harvesting your vegetables for market?”
Well, it’s not the crimp in my back caused by being bent over for several hours straight. That does remind me I’m getting older, though.
It’s not the picking of salad greens, leaf by leaf, plant by plant. That’s really the only way to produce a high quality salad I can be proud of.
It’s not having to wear a flashlight strapped to my head so I can work in the fields well past bedtime. With the darkness comes cooler air, which is good for both me and the vegetables.
It’s not the cold rains that seem to always hit at dusk on harvest night. When it’s been dry the rest of the week, rains are always welcome.
It’s not the staying up until the early morning hours, only to have to get back up a couple hours later. I attended New Mexico Tech, where such behavior was a daily occurance. Once a week is child’s play now.
No, the worst thing is when my brain decides to start singing to me, when I’d rather be listening to the chickens clucking over roost space and the other natural sounds of farm life. My brain’s serenade selection, in infinite loop no less, this week was “Judy in Disguise (With Glasses)”. And even that might not have been so bad had my brain only known the words.
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