Farm party. Or something.
Sandor Katz talking about fermentation--sauerkraut in all its many varieties and forms. Kefir. Yogurt. Instead of the 15 people we anticipated, we had 50. Or 60. More trickling in for the farm tour.
And then food--India and Brooke made three gigantic batches of squash casserole, and the biggest apple crisp I've ever seen. And more. Two beer kegs. Music: song, fiddle, sax, dobro, guitar, mandolin, harmonica, in endless configurations on porches front and back, and around the bonfire.
Great kids who (mostly) cleaned up the vast quantities of pots, bowls, and plates. Only one popularly acclaimed bad-behavior-never-to-return. And he was an old guy, more my age.
In the early light of dawn, person on couch I didn't know. The person. I am quite familiar with the couch. Though perhaps we should suggest BYOC next time. Bring your own couch. If there is a next time.
All we wanted was a garden. What we got was a tribe. Everyone should have one.