Many Hands

     For the past few weeks I have been concentrating on getting outside more by simply saying yes to outdoor opportunities.  I am not at the point where I would rather be out than in, but I am getting outside nonetheless.  A lot of my adventures have been things that are fun (to most people) like sporting events, long walks and camping.  I didn't want all of my experiences to be that though.  I wanted to go outside to do work.  Apparently some people think that is fun too.  Go figure.
     We belong to a CSA, or farm share.  We pay a fee that enables us to pick up a weekly supply of fresh vegetables from a local farm.  Great Song Farm, where we go, is a special place.   The farmers have built a wonderful community through farm tours, potlucks, musical events and more.  My whole family enjoys going there for pick ups and social gatherings.
     Each week the farm sends out a newsletter saying which vegetables we will be getting.  Included in the newsletter are a few nature based poems and some recipes that incorporate the more unusual produce we will be receiving.  I consider the newsletter a weekly gift.  Every time I see it in my inbox, I read it immediately and every time the same sentence jumps out at me.  It is the sentence looking for volunteers.  The farm wants volunteers on Wednesday and Friday mornings and they sweeten the deal with the promise of a vegetarian lunch.  Whenever I see that request I think of offering to help and then I wait to see if the weather would be a good fit for me.  During my mother's visit, the time had come.
  It was cool and overcast that Wednesday morning.  My mum, Oliver, Ginger and I were ready!  We dressed in layers and attempted to find wellingtons for the four of us.  In the end I wore pink Birkenstock clogs, my version of farm footwear.  I was so excited to do this!  I wanted to embrace being a farmer and reap what I sowed and live off the land if only for one morning.  On the way to the farm it began to sprinkle.  I was discouraged but not defeated.  I envisioned myself working on the land in the torrential rain like Ma Ingalls on Little House.  Suddenly I was wishing I had thought to make and wear a sunbonnet.
     The rain really didn't amount to much and soon we were there.  We met up with Farmer Sarah and Bridget, the farm intern.  The kids were anxious to show Grammie the draft horses that they had come to love on their visits to the farm.  We were all outfitted with work gloves and we began the walk to an upper field.  Today's task...turnips!!!

     It turned out that the upper field was way upper.  It was a hike to get to it and we all ditched the first layer as soon as we reached the turnips.  Farmer Anthony joined us there and gave us our instructions. Our job was to pull out of the ground the remaining turnips.  I could do that!  First we pulled them out and left them in piles along the row.  Next we gathered them and brought them to the beginning of the row so we could work on them all in one place.  There were two different types of turnips so we separated them,  cut off their tops and put them in large bags.  Next, the bags were loaded on the cart that the draft horses pulled.  And so were we!
     Riding on the cart behind the horses was awesome.  I made a joke about not having just fallen off the turnip truck and
everyone looked at me like I had three heads.  I have been known to misquote idioms and cliches but I thought I actually got that one right.  My spirit couldn't be dampened though.  I had found my outside calling!  Turnip picking!!!  Of course the weather would have to be cool and grey and my helpers would have to be adorable and willing and the farmers I worked with would have to be kind and tolerant.  As long as those things were always true, I had found my outside calling!!!
     I was looking forward to the promised vegetarian lunch.  The weather was so reasonable that we ate outside.  In October!  Sarah and Anthony had made a gorgeous vegetable soup full of fresh kale and squash.  They has a salad made from their own greens and shredded beets and fresh, local bread.  It was a feast.  I loved sitting at the table with my mother and two of my children alongside the farmers that we were happy to call our friends.

     While we finished up, Oliver and Ginger discovered a nearby pile of leaves.  Ginger mounded them up and jumped in!  Oliver raked more piles and asked if we could come back the next day.  I sat there and soaked it all up.  Heaven.

Fair Weather Fan

     In addition to my hatred for being outside and all things summer, I have another major aversion. Sports. I don't like watching them and I certainly don't like playing them. Through the years my children have tried a variety of sports. I never minded attending their games of baseball and soccer when they were little. They had all the cute and none of the competitiveness. Kids would be picking flowers in the outfield during baseball and running in a cluster during soccer. I was always the loudest cheerleader, cheering for all the children on both teams. As the kids got older they were in teams where scores were kept. I still screamed like a banshee but it wasn't as much fun.
     So imagine my surprise when my oldest daughter, Daisy called to tell me she got free tickets to a football game for us to attend during my upcoming visit to see her at her college in South Carolina. My mother and I were going to visit her and apparently we would be driving to Athens, Georgia to cheer on the University of Georgia Bulldogs while we were there. My mum always enjoyed football. I remember hearing her passionately reacting to games on tv when I was a little girl. When my brother and I were in high school, she would happily attend the games even if we wouldn't. She loved the idea of going to this game. Daisy loves football and her boyfriend is a sports lover too. I was the only one who wasn't so sure about this plan.
     Our first stop on this sports adventure was a tailgate party. This was weird. We had passes that allowed us a parking space at a tailgating station. What??? Who knew there was such a thing? A tailgating station is a gated lot with numbered parking spots and a building with restrooms and a common area. Apparently people buy season passes for this kind of thing. We were gifted the pass for the evening and clearly came unprepared. First of all, our rental car was not emblazoned in Bulldog paraphernalia like paw print magnets and University of Georgia flags. We did not have a red U of G awning to assemble in our spot or the coordinating chairs. We were sorely lacking a satellite dish, flat screen television and a grill, among other things necessary to participate. Instead, we had a two dollar Styrofoam cooler from Walmart full of cheese, vegetables, dips and sodas. Truth be told, I was wishing for a Bulldog temporary tattoo for my cheek or a red and black hoodie right about then. Despite my lack of love for sports, I do have a love for community and this definitely was one. Although I still wasn't too excited to go see the game, I started thinking I could get into this tailgating thing if I lived near a team. For the most part, we sat in the car and people watched and half dosed. Tailgating seemed to be something you met up with friends to do.
     Along with the tailgate pass comes a bus ride to the game. We loaded up with the fans and headed off to the college. We were a bit surprised when the bus stopped not that close to the school. We followed the crowd to the enormous stadium and eventually found our way to our seats. To my delight, there was a red pom pom on each one! It was on!!! Before the game even began, the crowd was wired. It was like nothing I had ever seen. The bleachers were a sea of red with a teeny corner of gold and black for the Missouri team. What a coincidence that the opposing team was a college my brother used to teach at. Which led to my mother rooting for the enemy. I can't say I actually cared about the Georgia team, but when in Rome...

     Before the game started the crowd was screaming and cheering along with prompts on the giant screen. I hollered with the best of them. As a matter of fact, I hollered louder than most of them. By the time the game actually started, my throat hurt. At no point did I have any idea what was happening on the field, but a young woman in front of me shared the drama that was unfolding near her involving a drunk teenager, his crying sister, the disappointed parents and the judgmental aunt. Way more entertaining. Daisy's boyfriend seemed shocked at my volume yet impressed. My mum kept rooting for the opposition so we had to pretend she wasn't with us. I remained clueless and content. After halftime we called it a night.
     Although the evening did not change my feelings towards sports, I had fun. And I have the pom poms to prove it.