Summer on the Farm

There are a lot of things that separate the life we live from what many would consider “typical” American lives. From rural life to homeschooling to Lutherans who vote Republican and like Doctor Who, there are just a few things that set our family apart from the mainstream.

The other morning, up to my elbows in apricots (again), I couldn’t help thinking about summer. What is summer to you? What is summer to me?

Growing up, summer was all about work.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved summer and still do. School break, fresh produce, long days and heat (as much as I love looking at snow, I’ve never been a fan of the cold).

But summer on a working farm isn’t about vacation. There were no trips to the beach, few outings to the mountains. There were hot days of watering, weeding, harvesting and, of course, preserving.

Summer was watering the garden enough to keep plants alive in the semi-arid dryness of Eastern Oregon while not wasting precious water.

Gardening wasn’t about growing enough tomatoes to put in a salad or two. It was about growing enough that, hopefully, we would have enough to feed ourselves for months instead of relying on grocery store produce.

Canning wasn’t about putting a canner-full on the pantry shelf and feeling productive. It was about putting up shelves full of jars of fruit and beans and tomatoes that would, hopefully, get us through to the next harvest season.

It was shredding head after head of cabbage and mixing it with salt to put up jar after jar of homemade sauerkraut.

Summer was putting water in the freezer by the gallon, because halfway through a day in the wheat field, it would still taste tepid.

It was about wearing boots and jeans, not shorts, because they were better protection against vines, branches and wheat stubble.

It was cheatgrass and foxtails in your shoes, in your socks, in your clothes, in the animals’ fur—everywhere.

Not that all of that was bad. It was an amazing way to grow up, one that seems foreign and surreal when held up against a world of TikTok and cell phones.

Summer was about playing in the sprinkler and drinking from the hose.

It was about strawberry Crush in a glass bottle.

It was about days so hot and sunbaked that the air smelled like roast grain and wrapped around you like a blanket.

It was about diving into a grain truck full of wheat and rolling around like Scrooge McDuck in his money room.

It was about skies so blue and cloudless, they hurt your eyes.

Yeah, it was weird. But you know what? I’ll take it any day.