As summer continues to merrily skip along without pause, I figure it is high time that I pause, pour a glass of nicely chilled Sauvignon Blanc and introduce you to a little piece of heaven we endearingly know as “the farm” or, dearer still, “the garden”.

On a regular basis “We’re going to the garden!” sounds throughout our home, prompting excited little hands to fill water bottles and grab empty baskets as their little feet race out the door. Most of us sing along to a fantastic Spotify playlist while some chat over the singing and one quietly reads her book as we cruise through town and along the river. The pondering of what garden chores and light farmyard jobs are possibly awaiting us travels right along with us as we make our way to the farm.

Peacefully tucked away in some lovely bluff countryside, this charming homestead and acreage is a place where we always feel genuinely welcomed…by the people, the pets and the land itself. A sense of serenity gently sweeps through this diligently tended and carefully cultivated place that some wonderful friends call home. The hard labor and talent of these fine folk politely burst forth all over the property. This is where “the garden” lives…thriving all summer and slumbering all winter in proper garden fashion. The opportunities and blessings that naturally accompany serving as its occasional helping hands are thoroughly cherished.

Upon our arrival everyone leaps out of the van and scatters to their most favored areas and activities. Our eldest reaches for the weed wacker, 2 of the girls can’t collect the kittens fast enough and there’s really no predicting what the youngest 2 will be attracted to first. It’s a safe bet, though, that they will sample and munch their way through the various beds as they meander over to sit on the low-lying branches of an apple tree. More often than not, we find our friends already outside so there’s guaranteed pleasant chit-chat and a brief garden survey followed by a volleying of garden ideas together. Then we all go about as busy as the bees and butterflies that dodge around our heads.

We have entered the prime harvesting / preserving / planting a second crop time of the season so the hours in the garden at the farm are brimful of productivity. It’s definitely all hands-on deck! The sun gets hot, sweat drips and stings our eyes, someone is bound to trample something that normally prefers to remain undisturbed…and I get sore because I forget proper body mechanics are a thing every single time I pick those endless beans. All are seeing, smelling and tasting the fruits of our labors. The promised results of the thinning of plants and monotonous weeding are blooming and ripening to fruition, as we hopefully dreamed they would.

There is a beautiful and constant flow of movement. The 2 bigger girls have developed a system amongst themselves; 1 helps in the garden while the other dutifully “babysits” the kittens and then they swap. (The time spent together completing the swap, mind you, may linger quite a while.) We all appreciate the muscle work and creative ideas that the boys contribute. Everyone pitches in to keep tabs on the tiny toddler. At some point or other a couple of them, or all, are taken under the fine folk’s wings and included in jobs that make their little chests swell with pride. And, of course, there always seems to be someone in the shade taking a snack break. Whether working side by side, a few rows apart or merely hearing each other’s voices emerging from all corners of the property there is a reassuring contentment knowing we are all there. Together. Everyone busying about; completing tasks, having fun, breathing in the fresh air and feeling valuable. Everyone seems to be everywhere all at once. And it all feels so right.

The hours pass quickly and before we know it the moment has come to brush the dirt off our hands and tidy up. Leaving the garden in a quiet reverie we load up and head out. We arrive home with baskets and bowls overflowing with fresh organic produce, whimsical and cheery bouquets of flowers and a bit more work carved out for us in the shape of settling everything into a suitable spot. We are sun kissed, a little smudged here and there, worn out and happy. And as soon as we begin to relax, I hear “So, when can we go to the garden again?”