It has been my experience that the changing of the seasons is gradually hinted at and then the next season is quickly blown closer with a stiff wind. Last week was no exception. The green grass of the hills and moist soil of spring all but disappeared in a few days. A steady, dry, north wind arrived for a several-day visit. Howling at night, it made our roof whistle. It moved everything that was not securely fastened. The wind settles an uneasy feeling in my bones, leaving me to wonder deep down what is happening outside that is out of my control.
We escaped these days with little damage. The recently transplanted tomatoes, melons, peppers and eggplant had sufficient time to get their little roots far enough into new soil to secure enough water to battle the wind. The only trees that fell were old, or they only dropped a branch or two. No hay was cut, and lying with roots still holding in place, it escaped sabotage. When the calm days with blue skies returned, the hills where no longer green, but on their way to golden. The whole farm breathed a sigh of relief, took a long draw of water and started growing like crazy.
Tomatoes are visibly increasing in size by the day. The rush to get stakes into the field and keep up with the stringing is on. Our spring vegetables are increasing ingredients by the day, and we are working to stay on top of the timely harvest of lettuces, radishes, beets, bok choy and carrots.
The ground squirrels were out in force and in the creek under the setting sun, I spied a big old coyote who was fat from his diet of the squirrels and rabbits. The oak tree leaves are no longer light spring green, but have settled into their dark summer green. The canal is flowing as full as I have seen it in four years. The whole farming community is excited about a full allocation of water.
If the asparagus harvest was not still going, I would say summer had arrived.
