Walk With Me: Golden Hour on the Farm
I tweaked my back a few weeks ago, and while it's slowly getting better, it has been a frustrating few weeks and I’m sad.
Flower farming isn't something you can simply pause for a while. The flowers continue growing whether you're ready or not, and every time I walk through the field I notice something I'd normally stop to do. There are weeds that need pulling, flowers ready to harvest, irrigation to move, plants I'd usually stake before they flop over, and somehow the list always seems a little longer than it did the day before.
I can still water. I can put together a few bouquets if I'm careful. But after twenty or thirty minutes my back reminds me that it's still healing, and I've learned that ignoring it only means I’ll pay for it tomorrow.
Kat leaves for work quite early, and by the time she gets home she’s only got so much energy left. She helps where she can, but this has been one of those seasons where I've simply had to accept that not everything is going to get done. We didn’t sow another succession of anything after June, and I’d normally have had several more zinnia and sunflower rows up and thriving. Instead, we’re just going to covercrop and let those beds rest.
Most evenings I still wander out into the field, but instead of being task focused, I’m forced to slow down and just be there, noticing things I probably would have hurried past a month ago.
Golden hour is a beautiful time of day on the farm but it’s also a time I often miss. I tend to be in the fields in the early morning or evening so I can stay out of the sun and golden hour during summer is also hot. Now that I’m forced to recuperate and just enjoy things, I find myself wandering outside as the sun begins dropping behind the Black Hand sandstone cliffs. The light changes minute by minute. The zinnias seem to almost glow for a spell before the shadows begin stretching across the field. By the time the light reaches the dahlias it's softer, and every flower looks simultaneously more saturated and softer. Perhaps it’s like candlelight, when everything looks better.
The other night I found myself standing in the same spot much longer than I'd planned. I noticed a pair of goldfinches in the zinnias. They've become regular visitors lately, along with the hummingbirds that seem to appear every evening just before dark. The bees were finishing up for the day, and for a little while the only thing I could hear was the breeze moving through the flowers.
I've spent the past few weeks watching the field move through the evening without feeling like I had to keep up with it. I’ve had the chance to experience golden hour. I'm looking forward to getting back to work without thinking about every bend or every bucket I pick up, but for now, I'll keep taking my evening walks.
Some seasons in life ask you to work a little harder. I guess this season I’ve been made to slow down enough to notice where I am.
