Harvest day was crazy; we had more to do than we would normally be able to get done in one day, plus Paul and I had to leave for Nashville at 3. It was very stressful. It poured buckets and buckets on us for about 45 minutes, but we kept on with the cucumbers. Now my boots are all wet. Still.

Night market was fun. The people next to us were Abundant Lifers, and they were very friendly. They gave me a loaf of some kind of bread with a brown sugar glaze on top. We sold Robin’s pesto (it’s divine), some chocolate stuff made by a friend of Paul/Robin, basil, dill, lettuce, arugula, chard, garlic, and turnips. Interestingly, the night marketers veered heavily toward the chocolate and pesto (and flowers), whereas the Saturday morning crew was all about the greens and garlic.  I guess people came to the night market as part of their hot Friday night dates and felt like buying things other than what was on their grocery lists. Nathan picked me up at the market, and we went to get plates of  bastardized Indian food for lunch before setting off. Arrived in Bardstown around 5. Ate lots of squash, played in the pond, sank a canoe, got yelled at by Herde women, saw Amy. Came back and played Therapy, a strangely entertaining game, until 1:30, at which point I was told I had to go to bed. So I did.

Saturday consisted mainly of sleeping and following Nathan around to get grease. Despite the fact that we only broke down once, we didn’t get back to the farm until around 8, so I showed him around quickly and then he set off again.

The whippoorwill woke me up this morning, but not saying “Whippoorwill.” Rather, it was saying “Poor Will! Poor Will!” Not a good omen on the day that Will (Bowman) departs for Chile.

Today was a day of cultivation. We cultivated the squashes and hilled potatoes (they’re now my least favorite “vegetable”), which somehow took 6 hours, so now we’ve just finished cleaning up from lunch. Robin made BLTs. You know what that means? WE FINALLY HAVE TOMATOES! It’s the beginning of an era. Unfortunately, tomatoes are most exciting on a BLT, and BLTs are most exciting when there’s turkey bacon. Which there isn’t. But there are fried eggs, which are also made of food.  The evening promises more hills of potatoes. Apparently we have 6 rows of them. Why? I have no idea. I hate the things. “Oh, but don’t you like French fries?” Everyone likes French fries. Because everyone likes fried food. There are a thousand foods that would be just as good fried as a potato, and none of them require those infernal hills.

Right, off to call Anna Rose. And have more lunch.  Write me if your life is more exciting than mine!