A year ago, today (7/31/2012), I began work on an Organic Farm, on which I was a live-intern for three or four days each week. From day one on the farm kept a log of the days events, chores, anything I could remember or have the energy to write. I'll be posting each entry exactly one year to the day, starting now.
My first day at Raspberry Fields Farm I arrived some time shortly after 7 am. I was the first to arrive. Kristen was in the kitchen and she offered me breakfast, but I had already eaten so she set me up with the task of watering the poly-tunnels. A relatively simple system of hoses originating in the "green house", the only double layer plastic tunnel with air blown in-between as "insulation". From a four valve bar hoses ran out to two more high tunnels on either side. Seedlings destine for the field sprouting from plastic cell trays were the most important items to be given the dousing. The tunnels are full of many different plants, fig trees, pawpaws, and a slew of Mediterranean herbs to name a few.
I assimilated into the farm group smoothy, I think they have a guest gardener types every so often and someone new did not phase the girls. The three interns that I am replacing were male. On the farm, girls seem to far outnumber boys, particularly on the field crew. Meg is the field manager, she makes the decisions and leads the crew of Kate, Molly, Bridget, and sometimes Michaela. They hardly let my arrival phase them, the girls chattering away like the hens in the hen house. There was talk of diets amongst their mentions of boyfriends and childhood crushes. I figure the boyfriend mentioning was for my ears. They would eventually ask me why I had come to the farm, "fresh air and sunshine", I told them. Trying to understand the life of plants takes constant observation, perhaps this is why I had come, perhaps it is the feeling working outside provides, maybe I will find out why I'm here in the coming weeks.
Our job is to stab the dry somewhat playable ground with our fingers to make holes for basil transplants. The basil was first dipped in "fish and kelp"; horrid smelling organic fertilizer slurry to get them started. Bridget is quite proficient at this task, her figure tips looks tough and callused from just a few months of doing this work, mine hurt, even now as I type. Transplanting became uncomfortable after the first row, my back was beginning to complain, but I wouldn't want to show weakness so early on, so I suffered through in silence.
My first day at Raspberry Fields Farm I arrived some time shortly after 7 am. I was the first to arrive. Kristen was in the kitchen and she offered me breakfast, but I had already eaten so she set me up with the task of watering the poly-tunnels. A relatively simple system of hoses originating in the "green house", the only double layer plastic tunnel with air blown in-between as "insulation". From a four valve bar hoses ran out to two more high tunnels on either side. Seedlings destine for the field sprouting from plastic cell trays were the most important items to be given the dousing. The tunnels are full of many different plants, fig trees, pawpaws, and a slew of Mediterranean herbs to name a few.
I assimilated into the farm group smoothy, I think they have a guest gardener types every so often and someone new did not phase the girls. The three interns that I am replacing were male. On the farm, girls seem to far outnumber boys, particularly on the field crew. Meg is the field manager, she makes the decisions and leads the crew of Kate, Molly, Bridget, and sometimes Michaela. They hardly let my arrival phase them, the girls chattering away like the hens in the hen house. There was talk of diets amongst their mentions of boyfriends and childhood crushes. I figure the boyfriend mentioning was for my ears. They would eventually ask me why I had come to the farm, "fresh air and sunshine", I told them. Trying to understand the life of plants takes constant observation, perhaps this is why I had come, perhaps it is the feeling working outside provides, maybe I will find out why I'm here in the coming weeks.
Our job is to stab the dry somewhat playable ground with our fingers to make holes for basil transplants. The basil was first dipped in "fish and kelp"; horrid smelling organic fertilizer slurry to get them started. Bridget is quite proficient at this task, her figure tips looks tough and callused from just a few months of doing this work, mine hurt, even now as I type. Transplanting became uncomfortable after the first row, my back was beginning to complain, but I wouldn't want to show weakness so early on, so I suffered through in silence.
Later on we harvested white corn a few days early because the deer were having their way with it. Kristen was there with baby Evelyn in a stroller. She handed me a freshly picked ear that was fully ripe but only three inches long fully shucked. "have you ever had it this way?". Fresh raw corn, well no I hadn't. I bit in and boy was it sweet, no need to cook corn this tender and fresh.
At dinner Fred, the owner of the farm with his wife Kristen, mentioned while weeding tomatoes, and this might go for all crops, that it is unwise to shake dirt all over the place and get it on the leaves as it contains fungal spores that might take hold, infect, and be spread in this way. The weeds are quite large and bring up much dirt, so it is an easy thing to do.
By the end of the day so much had happened, that while I remember it, I am too tired to embellish on it, for the sake of documentation, listing it is much simpler.
Weeded rows, weeded some more, tied up tomatoes, and harvested corn.
Weeded rows, weeded some more, tied up tomatoes, and harvested corn.
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