Farm Overnight

It's not quite seven pm. There's just enough light from the sinking sliver of a moon to put the darkest things in relief.

As I arrived to pay for my night of camping at Hither Hills State Park, the exiting park employee said that they were closed, as tomorrow is the last day. Of course, I went by the schedule, figuring a Sunday close date means Saturday night camping.

I headed to Montauk, the town, to find a place to wash up and eat some dinner. Afterward, I headed back toward the farm, stopping at the IGA market, where upon checkout I was offered a free, old school date book with faux leather cover.

At the farm road turn off, I turned to only running lamps, not wanting to attract attention or the ire of the land trust. I heard deer rustling in the woods as I opened the gate. They want in.

I slipped out of my boots and jeans and for a moment took to the chilled air, then sank comfortably into the most functional sleepwear -pocketed sweatpants. The temperature here will undoubtedly be colder than it will be at the ocean beach. It's already 35 degrees F at an early seven o seven pm. I expect it to freeze.

I learned a few things from last week's camping -primarily that the van's down-folded double rear seat is only comfortable if you are less than five feet long. This time I brought my wife's studio cot along. It sets up lengthwise, filling up the empty center of the van where the middle seats typically reside. I removed those yesterday in anticipation of better sleep. The rear of the cot, leg folded up, rests upon the rear seat. All the farm's garlic fills the remainder of the van.

Camping privilege, and the warm shower and restroom it provides, now lost, I'd like to finish all my planting tomorrow. A friend is taking the ridiculously long LI double R train trip to Amagansett station so he can help out. My brother should also be along near one tomorrow.

I've planted nearly 2500 sets last weekend. Will we be able to knock out another 5000 in 8 hours?