Last Saturday, I was awoken early by my alarm, alerting me it was time to get up and prepped for another long market day. The alarm was followed closely by a thought; the first of its kind this season.
I’m ready to not have to do this anymore…
Reluctantly, I dragged myself out of bed and out the door into the cool darkness of the fall morning. The day was beautiful; the season has been beautiful, but the fatigue and burnout has begun to set in gradually with each passing week, taking its slow toll on each of us.
Monday afternoon, I tried to push myself beyond my limits of comfort, to no avail. The sun just didn’t seem to have the power to power me anymore. The harvest had been all but accounted for, as Danny, Asher and I picked through the last of our deteriorating tomato plants. I trudged up the hill for more crates, at a slower pace than I’d have liked, and stopped for a long conversation with Danny by the hoop house.
The day was beautiful, and the work enjoyable, but by 5 pm I was ready to hit the road: crates and crates of seconds broccoli, squash and peppers in tow, for an evening processing session.
And process we did. What seems a comparatively miniscule harvest in the field appears massive in the scale of the personal kitchen, and Fanni, Asher and I worked straight through until midnight: blanching and freezing broccoli, roasting squash, and chopping peppers. Enjoyable though the process was, the late kitchen nights are becoming exhausting, and I fought back the crankiness to the best of my ability as we approached the early morning in the yet disastrous kitchen space.
Even the sweetest of blessings can be taken for granted in the face of excessive repetition, I guess. Come winter, I’ll be greedily devouring the fare of the fall, thankful for the efforts of the season. Come winter, I’ll be pining for sunshine and outside work; the feel of caked soil under my fingernails and the smell of tomato pollen on my fingers. Come winter, I’ll crave the company of the Sand Risers, and the purposefulness of late nights over the hot stove. For now, however, I think I’m just craving the winter.