Page 34 of Raised On It

His fingers are on what looks like a small green pine cone. I place my fingers where his had been, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“This is the actual hop flower, but it’s also called a cone. See how that feels springy yet dry and papery?”

“Uh, huh.”

“That’s the first sign. Now pick that cone off and roll it between your hands. That sticky yellow substance you feel on the stem is called lupulin, and that’s sign number two.”

“And is there a third sign?”

I can’t believe I’m sincerely wanting to know, but I am intrigued.

“There is. It’s the smell. They usually smell almost like grass before they ripen. Once they lose that grassy smell, it’s time.”

I take an inhale of the hop in my hand, and it almost burns my throat. “Whoa, that’s pungent.”

“Almost spicy, right?”

“I guess that’s the right word. It’s just stronger than I expected.”

We start walking again while I roll the cone between my fingers and listen to him go on about the harvest process and his concerns for how the warmer climate may change the way they farm. And I’m hanging on his every word.

The other side of the farm that he’ll take me to later is home to hazelnuts. It’s almost harvest season for the hazelnuts as well, but that season will go for a month longer than the hops once it begins.

If you had told me I would find crop information interesting a couple of weeks ago, I wouldn’t have believed it, but I I’m a sponge soaking it all in. He’s knowledgeable and passionate and actually very smart.

“This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

“This land…this farm…have been in our family for decades. It’s home. It’s what I know.”

“Don’t most farmers work from sunrise till sundown? You seem to have a lot of free time on your hands.”

“You aren’t wrong about that. Farmers are some of the hardest working people you’ll ever meet. We’ve been fortunate. In the past ten years, we’ve found ourselves in a place where my family is spending most of our time running the farm in the business sense. We are lucky enough to have a great crew working for us who do all the hard work.”

“When you say family, do you have siblings who help out?”

“Stacci, my sister, went to college and never came back. It’s just my parents and me, but to be honest, my parents are pretty much retired, so I guess it’s really me that runs things.”

“How do you feel about that? Is it something you would have chosen for yourself or do you feel like you don’t have a choice?”

“Nah, I’ve always got a choice. In fact, this afternoon, my parents and I are meeting to talk about making some pretty big changes. My parents and I agree on most everything, but at the moment, we aren’t seeing eye to eye on the next steps.”

He opens his arms to the endless rows of what I now know are called bines of green hop plants. Lifting my camera, I take a picture of him with his passion behind him. The green landscape of the farm surrounding him coming nowhere near the natural beauty of the man. Especially, when he talks about this land.

“Did you just take my picture?”

It’s my turn to shrug a reply.

“Am I gonna see that as your screensaver on your phone later? I am, aren’t I?”

“You are an idiot.”

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anybody that you’re infatuated with me. The feeling’s mutual.”

And there it is. Miles Montgomery stopping me in my tracks with his charming words yet again.

Embarrassed, I turn away from him, lifting my camera to takea picture, but he knows as well as I do it’s to shield his view of my flushed face.

Lou drops his toy at my feet, and I throw it for my new bestie. Because that’s what friends are for, right?