I planted a lot of things late, and will be harvesting a lot of things late, weather permitting.
We have had some very chilly nights, and I believe in some northern areas it has been down to 1C which is not really your usual August night time temp. I have stepped outside some mornings to a chill reminiscent of autumn. It can't be autumn yet?
We haven't even made our hay yet - and I'm getting twitchy as Neil continues to put off talking to the contractor. Hay is a very key part of our operation.
As the season threatens to shift, perhaps too soon, to a new phase, I feel my own impatience to do all that I have tried and failed (or talked about and not tried) to do for year after year. It's so easy to believe that because you have tried (or talked about) a thing many times, and it hasn't happened - somehow it's too late.
It can't be. In my heart, I know I need to make this farm be and do all it can. Some days I feel drugged by my inability, my lack of knowledge, the lack of time.
What do I really lack? Faith.
Maybe it is the time of the harvest of lost dreams and failed attempts, the harvest of wasted youth and fertile middle years, the harvest of plans and schemes, knocks and trips, sorrows and misfortune, hope and belief, of God's promises and my lack of faith in our own ability. The actual harvest.