Oh turnips.

You are so pretty. And so sweet.

Be with me forever.

With the deer fence and well up and running, we’ve been spending a lot of time in the field down at Sepiessa (or Sisa, for short). The farm on Middle Road is very open and public, which is both a blessing and a burden, and the peace and quiet of working in this new place is a welcome change of pace. It’s been designated heirloom tomato land, home of black krim, berkeley tie-dye, orange banana, carmello, to name a random few. The plants were started a little too early (February) and looked leggy and yellow, aching to get in the ground.

We’re giving them five foot spacing, because we’re not going to string or trellis them – we’re going to let them flop. I’ve never done it this way before, it’s giving me a little bit of the heebie jeebies, but it’s caitlin’s way, and it’s worked for her for years.

With that sort of spacing, we’re gobbling up the field at a rather astonishing rate – good thing it’s rather big, and flat as a pancake to boot. With the leftover space, we’ll probably do beans, squash, beets, things that can tough it out a little. I’m trying to keep all the greens and flowers back at the house, which is turning out to be a little challenging, given my almost pathologically ambitious sunflower seedings – I’m having to get a little creative, finding places to put them.

Go team go.

It was purple. Dark, eggplanty, saturated purple.

And crunchy. Mild, juicy, noisy crunchy.

It was the only one. Caitlin ate half, and I ate the other.