on summer zooming by.

It would be really easy for me to get sad about summer flying by. It's so fleeting. So perfect. So sun drenched and filled with the most beautiful moments. But I'm not sad. Because the fleeting part, is what makes it so special. 

If everyday was Christmas Eve- it wouldn't feel special. Or the 4th of July, or your birthday, or your semi-annual visit with friends from around the country. We need these special snapshot seasons. So instead of being sad, I'm celebrating. 

June was our busiest single month ever for this business. We flowered for 12 events total. And maybe more crucial than getting the events out the door, was finding a flow with our team for the season. I'm happy to report that I could not have chosen a better crew. Anna & Egan hold down the studio in a way that leaves me confident and feeling so good. And Lily manages our orders so that I never worry. There are more people who jump in to help us, with teardowns and setup and processing and bringing us food and smoothies and treats. Constantly reminded that it takes a village. 

June was quick for you too. By the time summer really got 'rollin' we were sticking our flags in the window boxes and making plans for the 4th. You remarked to a friend "can't believe its July already" more than once, and on the high holy day we swam and drank and sang around a bonfire and ate 2 s'mores and stayed up past midnight. 

July is something else at this tiny farm. It's like someone flips a switch overnight and suddenly the days are passing at warp speed. It's 9:45pm and I'm hanging lavender to dry. 10:15pm and Matt is still mowing the lawn. 

The days are jammed with visitors dropping by to see the lavender and studio and this 'place in person' and I'm over that stuff where I sit and worry about what people think of this place. Is it underwhelming? Not as big as they thought? Not as beautiful? Don't care. It is my heart. My heart in physical location form. And I love it. 

In the winter, getting ready for bed is a meditative and slow process for me. I boil the water and steep the herbal tea. I slide into my alpaca socks and fuzzy long underwear. I wear a sweatshirt & knit while we watch Netflix. I read a chapter or two in a book. I click on the space heater. I look at the radar. "How much snow?" "Maybe need to move snow before school tomorrow." And I take my time. The darkness enveloping the farm at 5pm means that by 8 I am in dreamland. 

Last night I fell asleep with no blankets on me, my phone in my hand and glasses on my face. Soaking wet hair leaving a pool of shower water on our pillows. A box fan whirring in the room, Matt found me semi-conscious and pulled a blankie over me and turned off the light. That summer ebb & flow. 

We went on a date yesterday too. Met friends for a drink at 4:30 and I felt like we were cheating on the farm. We both wanted to go for a drive after dinner so we drove from Boyne City to Charlevoix for ice cream. We held hands. Matt remarked how we can never take this for granted, that we live here. 

And then we came home at 8pm and went back to work. I'm a big fan of this time of day to get stuff done because the sun is so much less intense. We are in the middle of lavender harvest and the landscaping fabric is so damn hot during the day that I can only go for a couple hours. But once the sun dips behind the barn, I can crank out 75+ bundles in no time. 

And so, a girl harvests lavender with a giant dog while a guy installs a sign and goes to home depot and then hops on a mower. And I think to myself all the time, "What do people do who don't have this kind of project? This kind of passion they are chasing?" They go out and see a movie, and they cook dinner (a winter time only activity around here it seems) and they cuddle their babies and they decompress after a long day of work. They unwind. 

I'm proud of us for finding the balance. For making it a priority. I know it isn't easy for Matt to leave for 3 hrs of daylight when the weather is perfect. But I need that time. For us to be normal. 

And someone told me the other day I must be so tired. I must be so exhausted. And sure- some days I am. But this is what we do. And hey- January - March, those months are for rest.





Kalin SheickComment