While moving hoses, I found this tomato turning. What's remarkable about that is that it's about sixty days ahead of schedule. We are in a small heat wave, which is unusual for June here; also there was no winter to speak of and these tomatoes (Stupice) were planted a month earlier than they ordinarily would be, so if this was ever going to happen, this would be the year.
While dragging hoses I carelessly knocked a young turnip out of the ground, so hosed it off and hung it on the fence to take in for lunch.
Once you are in the tree, you can pull loaded branches toward you if you're patient. Fruiting cherry branches are quite supple but if you're hasty with them, they can break. Looking from the top of the ladder toward the garden, I can see the corn, potatoes and tomatoes coming along. I should also pick peas today.
Looking in the other direction, I see my neighbors have their hay down. They did it all in one day instead of the usual two, with the tractor rumbling far into the night, headlamps glowing.
Uchiyama says that there is no past and no future, only this supremely real instant in the present, in which the self that is the self is the ground of being, in which one is one with all things. I pick one cherry for me, and savor it while smelling the drying hay.
Yep, Uchiyama is right.