Accepting the Bad with the Good

Summer 2013, a photo by Taproot Garden on Flickr.

There is, of course, a pricetag to this summer bounty. It's hot. In the springtime, when the seeds are shaking with anticipation in their packages, and the tiller is reopening the rows between the neatly spaced rain showers, the air is fetching and cool. After a winter's bitter hibernation it's hard to find a compelling reason to remain inside. There is a kind of horizontal gravitational pull to draws us outdoors. It is the fresh-scented glory of relief and anticipation all rolled into one.

By mid-July, however, the rains have become more circumspect and the sun more assertive. In the 90's by noon, any activity in the garden is divided between the early morning and the late evening, with even those demanding their due. It's hot -- did I say that? -- and this week drippingly humid. Rivulets of perspiration stream from my scalp and pool in my ears and eyes. Brushing away the flow leaves a mud streaked camouflage from hands more recently in the weeds.

Humid, and did I mention hot?

But if the heat puts the brakes on me, it toes the garden's accelerator. The squashes are popping -- 10 zucchinis and 4 yellow straightneck and 5 sunburst brought in just this week -- and the peppers are adding their numbers. It won't be long before the tomatoes are crowding the counter...

...and today I started digging garlic. Thirty-six heads of German Extra Hardy came out of row 1. In the coming days I will continue with the remaining 6 rows swelling with 4 other varieties. And then we'll start figuring out what to do with all that flavor.

Which is to say that the price of mid-summer is easily paid.