Letting Go...In the Garden and in Life

 Thirteen days ago, in the middle of a drought and harvest time, we had a family emergency.

The garden had already been looking bedraggled. I'd been watering only the most critical crops, and between the historical heat wave in June, followed by grandkid visits, the garden was already sadly neglected. 

But when a family member desperately needed help, despite the heat and all the beds needing water, weeding and harvesting, and my blueberry crop coming in, I had no choice. I had to suddenly leave our place, putting 300 miles between me and Berryridge Farm.

In the moments of emergency, the garden was the last thing on my mind. But when the situation stabilized, everything I'd had to leave behind weighed heavily on my mind. John was home--he'd  returned after giving me a ride to look after the hens. But he had jury duty (talk about difficult timing!), and a couple of important meetings he couldn't miss. It was all he could do to collect the eggs, and keep our girls fed and watered.

With all the heat and drought, my worries about my blueberry crop were first and foremost. We'd already lost our new elderberry shrubs to the heat wave, and 3 of our rhubarb crowns looked like they were dying. I'd planted a bed of shelling peas that I hadn't had time to pick. My carrot bed was ready to harvest, but I couldn't do it before I left. 

But it was my blueberry shrubs, which I'd tended so devotedly for years, that made me sad. Would the shrubs sustain serious drought damage? Were the unpicked berries ripening, then falling to the ground, spoiled? Would we have any harvest at all?

I was stressing about the vegetable beds too. It occurred to me that in this challenging summer and growing season, we might not produce much of anything. It was a hard pill to swallow.

But...I knew I just had to let go. Let go of my food-crop routines, let go of my expectations of running a well-ordered homestead, and most of all, let go of the joy and pride I'd always taken in our garden. 

About 22 pounds in these 2 buckets

The days passed, and the family situation continued to stabilize. I was able to return home the night after last. Despite the long, strenuous days I was away, I was up early, and went into the blueberry patch first thing. And...hurrah!

I had healthy shrubs still laden with ripening berries. We'd had the very unexpected blessing of one inch of rain while I was away, and I think it saved the day. I picked berries for 4 hours straight, and got upwards of 28 pounds of healthy fruit. 

I was feeling so positive I found the energy to clean the coop, then pick the  carrots. They were indeed overgrown, but not a disaster. I harvested about 20 pounds--and a few were a LOT bigger than I'd like!

I hope these carrots aren't woody! Saucer for scale

I was looking over the rest of the garden when I found bear scat right next to our best rhubarb crown. I quickly checked the near vicinity, expecting to see broken apple trees, downed berry netting, or crushed poultry wire, then quickly told John.

He'd already discovered it. In our hurry to leave, we'd left one of our fence gates open. Fortunately, the critter must have just looked around without damaging anything, then left this calling card. Sorry guys, if it grosses you out!

Cub-size scat (I hope!)

And some things you just have to laugh about. We all drop the ball on zucchini now and then, and John discovered these monsters after his own crazy week. I generally find 1 of these every season, so 4 of them shows me 1) what a crazy summer it is, and 2) there's always room in the kitchen compost pile!

Should make good compost!

With all the family visits, I was already neglecting my writing business. And when I got the emergency phone call, I'd been within a week or 2 or publishing my new Irish novel. Yet I had to be philosophical.

The other thing (among many) that I had to let go of was posting on this blog! I was on a streak of weekly posts since early June, but missing last week was simply one more lesson in acceptance. As John would say (I'm sure I've mentioned it in my 2 homesteading memoirs), "It is what it is."

I'm still vowing to get the garden back into some semblance of order, but it'll take time. Meanwhile, I'm focusing on what I can do, doing my best, and remembering what's really important.