Harvest

Harvest is upon us. These days, every time we go somewhere or someone comes here, someone in the Dillaway clan makes sure to grab a couple zucchinis or cucumbers to deliver, too. A friend, upon receipt of a truly gargantuan zucchini, said, “You grew this?” And my only reply was, “We grew thirty of those.” And there are more coming.

We’ve already frozen fourteen cups of shredded zucchini, another ten of diced, and I plan on doing the same with stewed tomatoes this week. I don’t feel up to canning, so our freezer is getting the brunt of it, so much so that I found myself searching, “Deep Freezer Organization Ideas” this morning. When I measured the potatoes, I realized we’d gotten a bushel and a peck, which has of course been stuck in my head ever since.

The funny thing about it is that, at least around here, the plants that give the most are often the ones that demand the least. Beyond watering and the occasional weeding, potatoes and onions are pretty happy. The tomatoes demand a little bit of babying at first, but not much more. The pumpkins, which are happily ripening, have needed no encouragement at all to take over both the front and the back yard. As for the zuchinnis? I’ve actively considered killing them after a few weeks of chopping and shredding, so I can promise you they’re not getting any special treatment.

The plants that get babied are the ones that, to be honest, are not all that impressive. Forrest loves growing peppers, so for months we nurtured little plants under our grow lights, long after everything else went outside to brave the elements. He carefully planted them, ensuring not to disturb their roots in the transfer. And so far we’ve gotten three mini peppers.

Compare that with my eldest and I playing “potato toss.” We dug four-inch-deep holes in the garden bed, stood at one end and earned points by successfully landing the seed potatoes in the holes. Halfway through, Forrest asked, “Shouldn’t you be making sure the eyes are facing upward?” Well, we got a bushel and a peck, so I guess we didn’t need to make sure after all.

I love the economy of the harvest. It’s so ridiculous. Extravagant. Extra. You give a plant the least bit of attention and all of a sudden you’re pulling up onions the size of a softball. There’s a lot more to it, I know, but so much of that happens long before anything comes up out of the ground. So much of the work is composting and starting seeds and planning for the weather which all happens long before the frosts end and the spring sunshine returns.

I long to be ridiculous. Extravagant. Extra. To return kindness with abundance. And on my darkest days, I find myself returning to the garden to remind myself not to overthink it. The key to a good harvest is in the preparation. Maybe if I put in the work to keep growing, keep exploring, keep challenging myself - maybe if I do that when the days are too short and the nights too long - when the sun comes out again, I, too, can create a harvest worth waiting for.