Letters from the lower field

The lower field has always been the quiet one. It catches the late sun and loses it first, and the plants there grow slower and richer for it.

“What the lower field is doing this week, in Malti's hand.”

This week the chamomile opened — small white stars, a finger's-breadth across — and the bees came in numbers we have not seen in three years.

We are letting the field rest until the first full moon of next month. Then a small harvest, by hand, in the morning only.