Harvest Musings

Winter was drawing nearer, marking the upcoming end of autumn. Even so, there were still a variety of late bloomers and exceptionally large crops that needed to be harvested before their progress was ruined by a freeze. With her eyes to the gray sky, Whitlea sighed a puff of smoke, trying to gauge how risky the upcoming conditions would be.

She’d already gotten a lot done that day. The last of the apples, pomegranates, and other colder-weather fruit had all been collected from the trees. With a bit of effort, she closed the final lid. There. This late in the day it got harder and harder to do. She wiped the sweat from her brow as she shivered.

That was the trouble with working in the colder months.

Though it seemed preferable to work that would build up body heat when the surroundings were already hot, it led to a strange contrast in personal temperature. Cold from the surroundings and especially from the wind, but hot from the work and often the cold weather clothes... a cold sweat, a burning freeze.

No stranger to hard work and the discomfort of farm life, though, Whitlea chose not to dwell on it any longer. After a deep gulp of water, it was time to get back to work.

She was in good spirits now that she’d been hydrated. Dutifully, she dragged her cart along behind her as she ventured down to the ground crops. The last pumpkins of the season. Some had been proper pumpkins for some time, but had grown impressively. Others had only recently grown into a size she’d deemed worthy of harvesting.

Taking her knife, she set to work cutting the stems of the pumpkin that was closest to where she’d parked the cart. Tough stem, she mused. Good quality in a pumpkin. With a bit of sawing, the stem was properly severed. She gave the bright orange rind a solid pat, was pleased with its sound, then wrapped her arms around it to lift it into the cart.

The trouble with large crops like pumpkins was how hard it could sometimes be to see where she was going with them. Whitlea managed to get it solidly onto the cart all the same, then slid it further towards the back to make space for all the pumpkins to come.

Despite all the troubles that could come with farming in the autumn, there were several aspects Whitlea enjoyed. The cold inhale of petrichor from the morning’s sprinkling rain, for one, felt so nostalgic for her. It was a simple thing, but even she had to enjoy the little luxuries.

As she continued to fill up the cart, the gray sky began to fade into the warmer hues of sunset, and she became acutely aware that the working hours were just about gone. Browsing her wares, she carved a notch in the rind of one pumpkin. Not a particularly large or small one, but it was a nice pumpkin that appealed to her.

The other pumpkins would be put into storage. This pumpkin was going to be a lovely part of little luxury tonight. She hadn’t quite decided how it would be prepared but it would be tasty all the same.

She wouldn’t be harvesting as much tomorrow - there was still so much left to sell at the market. It put her in good spirits as she glanced over the farm’s autumnal state with a fond sigh.