Arlo Crawford's memoir of a summer spent on his parents' farm in south-central Pennsylvania is redolent with rhythms: of the seasons and of the plant-pick-water-weed cycle on an organic produce farm. Searching for new directions in his early 30s, Crawford returned to the land of his childhood and joined the crew of apprentices and farm managers who oversaw the production of fruits and vegetables on the 95 acres. He quickly fell into the swirl of sunup-to-sundown tasks--setting up irrigation lines; searching for bug damage; picking, boxing and selling the produce--that generated income not only for his parents but for the many seasonal workers who buzzed like so many bees around the central core of the farm, the house and barn.
Uneasy with sleeping in his childhood room, Crawford built a tent platform tucked among the trees, far from the hubbub of controlled chaos that had reigned on the land for more than 40 years. Here, he learned to listen to the silence. He gained respect for his father's tenacity in the face of crop disasters and he questioned and challenged his fears surrounding the murder of a neighbor, an event that had haunted him for 20 years. Poetic, colorful details--"The rows of vegetables stretched across the rise beside the road, black on black under the faint moon, and the early-summer air smelled liked dust and chlorophyll"--bring life on this farm to the forefront, providing readers with a wistful contemplation on the purpose and drive behind every person's labors. --Lee E. Cart, freelance writer and book reviewer