Yet another tardy post from two Sunday’s ago…
Sara’s garlic pull.
There’s a bit of a walk to get to the field.
First there’s the path which crosses a dry/wet stream…
Up a hillside
There those who “pull” and those who “dig”
I dig. That means I’ve had years of experience wielding a digging fork so as to be less likely to stab the bulb of garlic.
I don’t have a photo of a stab, but if you can imagine gouging a 1/2 inch wide steel tine with the force of a human leg behind it pushing through soil & scraping into the tender flesh of a below ground vegetable, well, you get the picture.
Those that dig, loosen the soil below & around each head of garlic with a 4-tine digging fork. Methodically moving down each row.
The ones who pull, grab low on the stem to unearth the garlic intact.
The soil is brushed from the roots & bulb, then laying it (gently) in piles.
These will be hung over nails high in the barn to dry.
This is the river of bundled garlic awaiting Sara & two of her horses pulling the wagon.
Here they come!
I mostly was taking many videos at this point of the day – but I didn’t ask everyone for their blessing to be posted on the blog, so my apologies for the choppy sequence.
Once the cart was loaded to capacity, Sara drives Connor & Larry down a lane then up the road to where the garlic is hung at the barn near the house.
And it was with Sara’s blessing that I stayed and simply sat in the field & enjoyed just being there, taking in the sounds.
I felt fatigued from the long day of physical work out in the sun, and I felt happy & proud & grateful to be a part of this yearly ritual & especially, with the awareness that this garlic allowed the horses to have hay in the winter & Sara’s daughter to go to college… Well, I felt content in a deep way.