214 cloves in the ground. And just in time; it’s supposed to snow 6 inches the day-after-tomorrow!
I couldn’t have done it without the help of my beautiful girls. I believe they are coming to love the rhythm of growing garlic nearly as much as I do. These magical cloves will meditate underground all winter and greet us early in the spring. In nine months time, we will pull them out of the earth and give thanks for their gift of abundance once again.
I have a lot to learn from garlic this year: stillness, quiet, solitude, patience.
In the greenhouse. Repotting plants and then lingering, soaking up the morning light.
I haven’t spent much time in here since spring.
The tiny black onion seeds we placed into trays filled with soil in March . . . have grown and flourished and now the glowing bulbs are drying in the warmth of the October sun, back here where their little green shoots of life began.
The sun nourished the onion plants all summer; their bulbs will nourish us all winter.
And then into the basement for some serious work with Papa’s tools!
Sunday was our much-anticipated family garlic harvest. (Believe it or not we were wearing sweatshirts and hats on Sunday night . . . Hard to believe in the heat we’re having now!) These little people help the harvest go so smoothly! We were able to pull, clean, and spread out over 200 heads in less than an hour. (And I didn’t do much more than take photos!) I write about garlic every year. The magic of growing this glorious plant just grows and grows, especially as I watch our children come to love this tradition as much as Jeffrey and I do. These beauties are the great-great grandchilren of the Meadowlark garlic Jeffrey and I planted the fall after we were married, 13 years ago.
Sometimes helping. Sometimes unhelping . . .