A Different Kind of Rhythm

The garden is going crazy.

The one plum tree is finally done. We picked all of her plums and made plum juice popsicles for the last day of camp, which everyone loved.

Our nectarine had quite a bit of fruit go bad. We think all the rain caused some of it to mold before it could ripen. We were able to harvest the rest, and it was delicious.

Today we started harvesting apricots. We filled a huge bowl, and there are still a ton hanging on the tree. I’m guessing over the next few days they’ll all be ready.

Still harvesting lots apply mint, spearmint, and lemon balm. The kids love harvesting, washing, and hanging it to dry. We used it to make some Father’s Day tea for our dads.

And friends... the papaya is doing amazing.

It keeps putting on more fruit and a ton of new growth. Every time I walk by it, there seems to be another little papaya forming. I am ridiculously excited about how happy she seems

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Meanwhile, we have completed our first week of Summer Camp.

Summer Camp feels very different than the school year that ended only a week ago.

As I think about the past nine months, working alongside both the children and the parents on our rhythm, our boundaries, the language we use, and all the little ways we care for one another, I realize how practiced it had become.

We were running like a well-oiled machine.

I could wander through the garden and know exactly where my friends were simply by listening. I knew their voices. Their patterns. Their favorite places.

Sometimes I would notice that I hadn’t heard a particular friend in a while and go investigating, only to find them secretly nibbling on fennel or sourgrass somewhere in the garden.

There was a beautiful dance happening between the children, the animals, the garden, and the adults.

And then Summer Camp arrived.

Suddenly we had friends who had never been away from their parents before. Friends who had never spent time in a group of children. Friends who didn’t yet know the songs, the rhythm, or the expectations of the garden.

In some ways, it felt like the first week of school all over again.

Thankfully, we also had a few alumni sprinkled in. Children who knew the rhythm. Children who could sing the songs. Children who already understood how we move through the garden together.

And what I realized this week is that I had to change because my friends were different.

They needed something different from me.

During the school year, I know I have months with the children. We can take our time. We can slowly build trust, confidence, and rhythm together.

Summer Camp is different.

Sometimes I only have a week.

So I found myself asking: How can I be with these children in a way that serves them best if we only have a few days together?

I spent a lot of time trying to meet each child exactly where they were.

Giving more reminders.

Staying physically closer while they played.

Stepping in a little sooner when support was needed.

Helping them learn the rhythms of the garden as quickly as possible so they could relax and enjoy themselves.

I wanted them to feel successful.

I wanted them to feel safe.

I wanted them to leave with happy memories of feeding rabbits, gathering eggs, climbing logs, digging in the dirt, and making new friends.

And as I sit here writing this, looking out at apricots, papayas, and flowers that seem determined to keep growing no matter what, I am reminded that adaptation might be one of nature’s greatest lessons.

The season changes.

The garden changes.

The children change.

And if we’re paying attention, we change too.

Until next time friends,

Teacher Todd