The fruit of our labors

Spring was cruel this year. Mid-March stormed in like a lion with blazing temperatures in the mid-80's. Unheard of in these parts. Sick of winter, we raced out and enjoyed the warmth. We weren't the only ones. Startled from hibernation, the apple trees got their bearings and burst into bloom. The intoxicating scent of apple blossoms wafted over the farm. The small apple tree at the far west edge of the farm, freed from a blanket of grape vines, pruned and fertilized, was a riot of bloom. I fretted about Global Warming.

Then April marched in with a no-nonsense attitude. Several days of sub-freezing temperatures knocked all the blossoms off the trees. We weren't the only ones. Michigan lost 90 percent of it's entire apple and cherry crop. We tried to save ours. We raced out every night and wrapped the small trees in the vegetable garden, hoping against hope that we could trick them into keeping their blooms. It didn't work. And yet . . . and yet. One lone tree obviously hung onto one lone blossom. Here was the result. Our apple. Singular. The fruit of our labors.

The summer was no easier. We had record high temperatures most of the summer, combined with record drought. We watered using the sprinklers until I worried about the well. Then we just watered by hand, putting the hose directly on the roots of all the plants, both vegetable and flower. Surprisingly, this took far less time. I could water both the shade garden and the front sun garden in a little more than half an hour. Don watered the vegetables. Some of the crops were amazing. We had onions the size of grapefruits. In general the root crops did well. The shallots were plump and shining and golden. The beets were excellent. We had planted Siberian garlic and it made big, succulent purple bulbs the size of small lemons.

Other crops fared more poorly. We had some sweet corn, but not much. And for some reason, our entire pepper crop was a loss. I got a handful here and there, but nothing like the bags and bags we had last year.

I am slowly getting used to the farm. I have lived here a year and a half now. I've met the neighbors. We gave a party. I joined a garden club. I still miss having closer neighbors. You know how you can go out and a neighbor is there mowing their lawn and you wave and yell "Hi!" Or you stroll over to a neighbor's house and chat about your grandchildren. I miss dressing up and going out to dinner. We go out very seldom because the closest decent restaurant is 30 miles away. One way. I guess I could make a big list of things I have learned on the farm and another list of things I have learned about moving to a rural area. I've never been a shopper, but now I find myself missing stores and malls and earrings and perfume and girl things.