Can anyone else smell the changing of seasons in the air? I am always amazed, each season, how something as intangible as the air we breathe can affect everyone so differently and deeply. For me, the transition into the fall season, breathes welcomed moments of reflection and freshness. As peak season has crept over its crest and is now descending into slower months, we are confronted with time and space to reflect on where the season has taken us. It’s hard for me to conceptualize how my season at Red Dog Farm is coming to an end, but I have so appreciated getting to know its plants, its people, and its flow.

On my first day at the farm in early June, we transplanted all of the winter squash plants. It is hard to imagine, as you are intimately putting these resilient plants into the ground, that they will grow into hearty vegetables to sustain us through the winter months. These vegetables are a reminder of the strength of soil, sun, and water as we have given them the space to grow on their own without much interaction. We have seen the greenery grow big and sprawl, and can now see vibrant colors reveal themselves through a canopy of green leaves. We walk by this squash patch multiple times a day, and it is a very subtle reminder of the intimacy of seasons and time.

Cooler weather changes the way we move about the farm. Greenhouses are opened later in the day, sweaters stay on through morning harvest, winter carrots grow taller, the transplanting greenhouse is no longer filled with plants that will make up our fields, and slowly we start to realize the impermanence of farming. Canning season has come, and we now look to preserve this explosive freshness and fleeting abundance that is peak season. I look forward to even more changes on the farm in my last month here, and am excited to bring some of Red Dog Farm, in jars, back home to the east coast.

– Julia