Field Notes from Summer

“You sunburned sicklemen of August early,

Com hither from the furrow, and be merry.

Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on,

And these fresh nymphs encounter every one

In country footing.”

Shakespeare

It’s amazing how quickly time passes in summer. It’s a constellation of simple moments strung together with verdant smells, sun-burns, and dirty sandals trekked from garden, to kitchen, to trail, and back again. I contemplate these blessed summer moments of my own as pings of mason jar lids echo in the kitchen. I’ve got a full basket of this morning’s harvest waiting for me to wash on the counter, too. A pile of laundry awaits - a dirty swimsuit from yesterday’s swim and clothes from last week’s foraging trips. The pets snooze at my feet while the sun blasts through gaps of monsoon clouds outside. There’s a lot of chores to get done, yet I’m putting it all off in favor of taking a siesta and snacking on garlic toast topped with chubby heirloom tomatoes and burrata.

These are just some of the slow summer moments I’d like to remember, and so I’m sharing them here with you: my field notes from summer.

Sight

Watching the bees has been one of the most joyful experiences this season. I watch them beeline it to the meadow each day then get lost in the garden before heading home in the evening. Some even have sleepovers in the pumpkin blossoms and it’s so dang cute. The hive beards outside the boxes at twilight to draw out the moisture in the hive and reduce the heat of all those bumbling bodies. The hive checks always leave me in utter amazement at their communal work and I’m grateful to Rand, the beekeeper, for teaching me through this process. We harvested 2 frames of honey this morning - the rest we’ll leave for them to sustain themselves through the fall and winter.

Sound

It’s no surprise that the sound of birdsong has been a delight. The meadow draws a surprising amount of birds which feast on the seeding flower heads and the vast array of insects. The large covey of quail and their chicks nervously scamper across the yard daily. Their coos are my alarm clock.

Smell

I had never smelled clary sage until it bloomed in my garden this summer. Let me tell you, it is the most divine smell! Smelling the fresh blooms sparks a visceral sensation deep inside that makes me think of ethereal beauty, renewal, and somehow, divine femininity.

Taste

As I shared earlier, my favorite meal this late summer has been toasted slices of sourdough, graded with a clove of garden garlic right on top. I layer a slice of burrata or a spoonful cottage cheese, then top it with a meaty slice of heirloom tomato. A pinch of salt, pepper, and a few leaves of thyme is the perfect finisher. I have a hard time cooking full meals in summertime. Most of the time my harvest makes it to my mouth before the fridge. I’m usually too tired to kitchen-witch, so I keep meals simple. The artichoke harvest has been a welcome surprise this year considering it grows as a biennial in my region. I’ve also been enjoying steamed artichoke dipped in melted butter with a sprinkle of red pepper.

Touch

The textures my hands have been enjoying are that of wild plants. Wild rose, yarrow, mullein, elderflower, mustard seed, serviceberry, sagebrush, burdock, and mountain mahogany are just a few of the plants I’ve enjoyed touching and connecting with this season.

The air has turned to honey. Days are golden and the air is heavy with monsoon moisture. I beg the question to anyone who will listen, how can we possibly be expected to work in conditions like this!? Even with a long and utterly average to-do list, I cannot bring myself to do anything anymore. I’m like the plants - spent from all the energy I’ve expended since March. The seeds of my ideas have sprouted and grown tall. I’ve flourished and now the fruits of my labors hang heavy from my limbs. Someone please come pick them for me to relieve the weight.

Shakespeare had it right.

This August early is not a time go and do, my friend. No, the plants and the trees tell me that is a time to sink deeper into our bodies and just be. It’s an opportunity to linger in pleasure pursuits and enjoy our gifts from the earth. It’s a sensual time in nature. The land gives us permission to embrace the sensual pleasures of our earthly experience: the sights, sounds, smells, tastes and textures of her verdant body.

This late summer season I invite you to postpone everything on the to-do list that is not of the utmost importance and linger in these languid honey days with me. Better yet, drop time-keeping altogether and let’s just be in this moment together. Late summer will pass all too soon.