I sit on the edge of the wooden frame, bent low as I pick, the sun hot on the back of my neck.
It’s not something that can be done quickly, this lettuce picking. I pluck a single, burgundy-chartruese leaf at a time, low at the base of the plant, pinching each leaf between my thumb and forefinger. Snipping one or two leaves from each plant, I shake the grit that’s spattered and dried from the last watering and then drop the leaves into the plastic colander that rests in the dirt beside me.
I hunch with feet splayed on sun-heated stones as the chickadees twitter from river birch to pine. A cardinal fledging wobbles, wings fluttering, balanced on the frayed clothesline next to the worn-grey pin, like a tentative acrobat on the high-wire as his parents chirp anxiously from the picket fence. I stop picking, holding my breath as he pitches forward, releasing the air as he lunges and lands safely on the fence post cap.
Up one row, down the other, I fill the colander one leaf at a time and then move onto the next box, the one with the tangy radishes, magenta and albino globes birthed from dry dirt. When the basket is full, I sit still on the edge of the raised bed and listen.
Cabinets doors open and close. A child washes his hands at the sink. A pan clangs onto the stove, chef’s knife taps a cutting board. The sounds fall from the open kitchen window and roll across the garden soil like water bubbling over rocks.
What’s your favorite sloooow summer chore? {I love picking lettuce, but hate washing it leaf by leaf!}
{Just for fun this summer, I’ll be writing some short pieces for a “Graceful Summer” series – snapshots of the slower months here in Nebraska and on the road. Kick of your flipflops and join me? Most of the Graceful Summer series will run on Fridays, but I’m feeling kind of relaxed, so who knows, they may pop up on other days, too!}.
