Thursday, August 8, 2013

Misdirection

I walked out to the tomatillo field to meet Meg to find she was not there, but found her instead picking islander peppers. She was done picking a lug full, so we headed over to the shade of the other side of the shelter belt. Both of us picked a few ripe tomatillos first thing, but after a few minutes realized that there really were not that many ripe one out there. Ripe tomatillos are full in their papery shell which is an enlarged flower leaf, sometimes they even split it wide open. Bridget was awake, I knew it but she was not out here with us. Turns out she was sent to the hilltop field by Fred on accident. We meet her as we take the custom down the hill towards the barn.



We; Molly, Kate, Meg, Bridget, and I spend most of the morning picking rainbow chard, with red green and yellow stems, cucumbers, and yellow crookneck squash on the hill. Tuesday, work-share helpers day, and upon returning to home field we find a good sized group weeding the beets. We join in. James is there and he tells me that he has a fig tree at home, I tell him that the farm has some too, in the greenhouse. I tell him about my pawpaws. He knows what they are, but another weed picker, a bald guy his forearm tattooed with it's skeletal structure close by does not. I explain to him the small green fruit, a custard apple, that some say tastes like a banana. We all revel in the thought of it, though we have never had one. James mentions the pawpaw festival in Ohio, we all agree it would be great to go. 
 
Weeding the beets is creating a monoculture as we find carrots growing in amongst the beets that people in this group are weeding out. I tell James that I don't weed out clover because of its nitrogen fixing properties. I point at the dry dead dirt and say "look at this, exposed to the sun - horrible", James agrees it is not great but he has seen worse. James has volunteered at a few farms. I start placing my weeds down around the beets as a mulch, I am working as slow as possible as this job does not enthuse me. 
 
Finally, lunch. The best part, desert is a pound cake with peaches.

I'm tasked with string trimming around the rows of eggplants, whilst everyone else peels onions. This job sucks. Especially in this heat, I grab a white piece of cloth and stuff it in my hat so I look like an Arabian sultan. Too much time alone my head to think of how I don't care for such work on a $10 a day salary. If this is what working here gets me then I don't need it. Oh, I need to mention I didn't cut down a single eggplant.

I take my time finding the crew after my whack job, I enjoy some sparkling lemonade that I find in the fridge. Eventually Kristen sends Meg a text. Weeding, in the leeks with James are, wearing possibly his girlfriends t-shirt on his head, she is a bottled blonde in pajama bottoms named Jayne, and has tattoos of some kind of flower on her breasts. It's hard to find common ground and conversations are short, jokes keep the mood light. The light from the sun is finally falling behind the trees, I am getting a serious farmers tan, hopefully not too burnt.

Meg and Bridget call it a night a little early as they have plans to attend their friend's band's first show, The Crappy Funeral. I say goodbye to the volunteers and head inside.

As I stand there in the kitchen I start reading through the "Farm Notes" three ring binder. A detailed list of seed plantings in the greenhouse is somewhat interesting. They start with some hardy ones in February, onions, leeks, kale for instance. Then after that a steady flow of sowing. The list goes on and on for a few pages a few months; so many varieties of plants. Then I realize I have to poop, and it's coming on quickly. I head for the bathroom. Oh no, Meg is in the shower getting ready for her concert, who knows how long this could take. I think I could hold it, on second thought, no. I head outside grab my shoes, and see that Bridget is standing by the supply truck smoking her end of the day cigarette. So I head out the front of the breezeway down toward the fledgling orchard to the pine trees that surround it. A deer goes dashing through the field and Maggie the Australian sheep dog comes barking after it. I hear Fred egging her on, "get that deer", it has already got away. The dog and I make eye contact right before I dip into the outhouse. She barks at me now.



The sheep have chewed on the trees in the orchard. Fred thought that it was a good idea to introduce the two. Deer love to eat these leaves and sheep are known for their habit of eating many things; so I don't know why he let them in there. I dance around to avoid the poison ivy and enjoy the evening light. I see the girls go by in Meg's truck, Oscar.

Later in my room I begin to read the Humanure Handbook, a guide to composting human manure, 2nd edition.

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