After 처서, cheoseo — the point in the old almanac, late August, when the heat is supposed to break — the yard of a country house gets busy. Chillies go out on mats to dry. Sesame is beaten off the stalks and bagged. The best of the seed is picked over and hung up under the eaves.
Taking in what you have grown and keeping it properly is 갈무리, galmuri. The word covers storing a thing away, and it covers bringing a piece of work to a close.
There is a next year folded inside it. You do not eat all of it now. You set aside the share that has to get through the winter, and the share that goes back into the ground in spring. Which is why the work goes slowly. Sorting, drying, holding some back — all of it takes time.
These days people use the same word for saving a file on a computer. Words move house and carry on living.
On each paper bag of seed my mother wrote the year in marker pen, so that later she would not have to wonder which was this year's and which was last.