Into July

The greenhouse is almost empty. The fireflies are out every night. The potato plants, almost up to my waist with leaves so full you almost forget we were squishing potato beetles a few weeks ago, are beginning to flower. The cherry tomatoes have been staked, partially strung, and mulched with straw. The strawberries have come and gone. The zucchinis are growing into baseball bats overnight. I tasted kohlrabi, that beautiful, purple spaceship of a vegetable, for the first time. The garlic stalks are turning yellow. We are eating nasturtiums in our salads and swiss chard in our zucchini pizzas. The hollyhocks are taller than I am and blossoming in fuschia, white, and pale pink. The lambs are being weaned from the ewes, the chickens are laying more eggs than we can eat, and the pigs are still always hungry.

I still dream about weeding; and the sunflowers, not yet blooming, follow the sun across the sky.