Right, so Fridays are the day that everyone dreads, it seems. Since Saturday is market day, Fridays everyone’s rushing madly to collect obscene amounts of squashes and cabbages and herbs and garlic (500 garlic heads; 460 squashes. I counted). Thus, it’s the only day that doesn’t have an official ending time. It ends when everything’s done. It really wasn’t that bad, probably because it was fairly cool–I wished I were wearing a sweatshirt til about 10. The boys started out at 6 cutting cabbages, but Paul and I went and bundled herbs. An hour’s worth of cilantro, that much basil, and then some dill. Someone else got the mint. Then we went through where the boys had gotten the cabbages and mulched (everyone here is absolutely in love with mulch. Apparently it really does magic, and they won’t shut up about it. Which is kind of a shame, since it requires lots of bending over and paying attention in the heat. Oh well.

They have a new tradition of hot dogs for lunch on Fridays, since everyone’s too busy to do a big fancy lunch. Paul asked if I ate hot dogs, and I said I didn’t. For the rest of the day, Paul and Robin self-flagellating  about how disgusting their hot dog habit was. I’m totally fine with it, but apparently the fact that I didn’t partake drudged up some deep-seated guilt.

Paul and Robin are fun because they really don’t do small talk. Everything that comes out of their mouths, it seems, is related to some big philosophical question. Paul asked me over the cilantro, “If eating meat is immoral, why do you have pets?” Why can animals be your prisoners but not your food? I don’t think that the comparison is flawless, but it was an interesting thing to think about. I also accidentally told him that biodynamics sounds like witchcraft to me. I didn’t mean it in a negative way–biodynamics is a very broad concept, so I just don’t fully understand it. But filling a cow’s horn with quartz powder and burying it under the full moon to enhance the immunity of your plants sounds a little hocus-pocusy to me (I didn’t actually say that last part). He got a bit defensive after that–I now know that they plant by the positions of the planets (part of biodynamics–the other part is lots of strange “composts” and concoctions that you use to bring out certain qualities in the plants. It’s like botanical homeopathy, but with more science behind it). He was a bit concerned because you’re apparently not supposed to harvest during a solar eclipse (there was one today, did you know?), but it was Friday–we didn’t have a choice.

Shortly before lunch there was a lull in activity, so Robin asked me if I wanted to go meet Sasha’s horse. I didn’t know he HAD  a horse! She’s beautiful. Dun, but with a fair amount of white in her mane. Her name’s Rosie. She’s completely chill, perfectly behaved, even as she’s being eaten alive by flies. Sasha doesn’t want to use bug spray on her. I told him to try lemon balm. He was very excited, since he has a whole bunch of it in his garden.  Speaking of which, Sasha’s garden is a cool idea. It’s completely independent of the rest of the farm; if he wants something done in it, he has to do it. It’s entirely is thing, and he totally steps up to the plate. He’s a way cooler 12-year-old than I was. So I enjoyed talking with him while we brushed/braided/petted/tickled Rosie.

After lunch, I took a nap. The boys had gone fishing and somehow lost all their lures and such, so they went during the siesta to go retrieve them. They were late getting back, so Robin and I talked about soy, pork, and her whiny, poopy baby. THENNNN we mulched beets and chard, “repaired” a deer fence (shoddily tied it up to some trees in the hopes that it wouldn’t fall), loaded the trucks, and now I’m here. Lauren arrives tomorrow. Get excited.


I’m going to go call my mommy. Be well!