On Monday it was time for the hop harvest — together with my mum.
All summer long the hops had been climbing up the front of the house, past the big windows. By the end of September the bines hang heavy with cones, pale green and fragrant. Time to bring them down.
Bine by bine
We took the bines down and sat with them in the sun. My mum on the chair, me beside her, and then it was cone by cone: pick it off, into the basket, next one. Work that doesn't need much thinking — which is exactly why there is time to talk.
By early afternoon the big basket was full to the brim.
Why I'm writing this down
My everyday life is software, client projects and appointments. An afternoon in the garden that ends with a basket full of hops, and nothing else that had to get done, is the best balance to that I know.
And it is worth even more when you spend it with your own mother. Hours like these don't come by themselves — you have to make time for them.
Thank you, Mum, for this lovely day.