Organzed Chaos

Halloween is perfectly neglected on the farm. I suspect there is little time for decorations or costumes. I get a bowl of oatmeal, and more cocoa. I do mention that my judge costume, a powdered wig and a graduation gown with a wooden mallet/gavel, was a great success last weekend. Mary is back this morning, she usually is seeding things in the greenhouse and today is no different. Micro-greens are being grown out in mass, it takes quite a bit of them to make an impact. I am surprised to find that sunflower sprouts are on the menu. I am sent to the barn to clean out the cooler, to organize things to be donated to a women's shelter, and pull veggies that are destine for the compost pile. I am to then replace them with a shipment of winter squash and potatoes that came in around 1:00 a.m. and were left outside. Not a bad task to start out with, only problem is that everything has been moved to the lower level of the barn because of a wedding reception that was held upstairs last weekend. I do have to retrieve a few things -like the dolly-  but all in all organizing is right in my wheel-house. 

 While I am off I take a walk over to the pond to collect a few cattails. I plan on introducing bulrush to the pond down the hill from me that is barren of aquatic plants. Bulrush has been called the supermarket of wild edibles. All parts are edible, most notably the fresh stalks in spring.

I need to collect the plastic that I pulled yesterday, all I really want to do it put it in a pile for easy pick-up. This is a quick task that takes me on a little walk out over the fields. The rain persists today. I am tempted to collect more basil seeds but hope that in the future they are dry. When I return to the house I tell Kristen my plans for the strawberry plants she has been given by a CSA member. A total of five buckets. It is about time they go in the ground, a few have died and the water they sit in is stagnant and smells like a swamp. I propose that they be planted on the outer edge of Fabio, and Kristen adds that we plant them under the fruit trees in front of the house, inspired by my food forest pitch no doubt.

planting goes well, I recon that this spot should be good for the plants and has the added benefit of giving reason to travel down this path, the heritage garden on the opposite side. We cover the plants with straw for a little protection.

I head home early this day around 1:00, but not before Kristen allows me to take a healthy group of live sorrel, which I will use to replace all the pachysandra I am pulling out around my house. Sorrel is a nice herb that is edible, recommended in stews and salads, literature says that it tastes like pineapple or wild strawberries, but be careful too much sorrel can be poisonous. Oxillic acid contained in the leaves is safe in small amounts.

how will things ever get better if people are not allowed to keep what they earn?

Mud Pies

I am in time to collect lugs from the barn before the volunteers arrive for our first winter CSA harvest. It is miserably cold and wet. I begin picking tatsoi with Evan. It is slow going compared to the spicy greens and arugula that Nicole and Mary are harvesting. As we go on my fingers become more and more numb, despite my fingers losing much of their power and ease of movement it is not painful. Kristen has assumed some of Meg's usual responsibility, she comes by on the golf-cart and picks up the harvested produce. She sends Even and I over to pick parsley. Bunches of parsley are wrapped together with rubber bands which becomes increasingly difficult with such cold fingers. The rest of me is not really cold, which helps, next week I should have appropriate rubber gloves. Only 26 bunches or so to be gathered takes us little time, Kristen arrives again as we finish; perfect timing. We crowd the club car as it is raining steadily.

To hill top where the wind is brisk and temperatures seem colder. We are picking cilantro from the tiny mounds growing close to the ground for warmth and because they have been clipped so many times by our scissors and the gnashing teeth of deer. Again the number of bundles that we have to collect is far less than summer CSA. I only have 12 to make, but my fingers will not move, they do not have the power to stretch the rubber band and hold the cilantro. I am dropping leaves here and there and barely holding them together. I actually have to use leverage from my leg to get the bands on. Kristen finishes a few ahead of me and takes some of Even's recounted bands. Then some of mine. Incredibly we are done harvesting all before noon.

Evan and I work in the greenhouse weeding and then tying up the raspberries. I am happy to find that Kristen wants to cultivate raspberries throughout Fabio, I am sure they will readily take over. I don't know how this fits into a long term plan, it just seems to me that raspberries will do just fine outside. Evan tells me that his banana plant is doing quite well, and that he will eventually get some fruit. It is not long before we head in for lunch.

Cathy, Kristen's mom is in town helping out in Fred's absence. We are lucky to have her back, people were not that impressed with the church ladies lunches, or at least they can not compare with Cathy's. She has made shepherd's pie in a new crock pot, the biggest one they could buy. There is tapioca with raspberries for dessert. I bring in my drawing from landscape drawing class to show Kristen and finally propose that I design her a food forest. I think she is impressed by the drawing and my open ended pitch. Something for her to think about. As usual after lunch everyone leaves, taking their work share home after 4 hours work. Good deal.

Kristen makes me a list of three major things for me to work on this afternoon.

    1. Pull plastic out of the corn, tomatillos, or eggplants
    2. Plant spinach and fennel in empty spaces around the greenhouses
    3. Strip some more garlic for planting

The cold wet day continues as I head out by myself, I figure starting with pulling plastic and getting it out of the way will be the correct plan of action. I start in a row of corn, notorious for begin a pain. This row has been cut down, with what I am not sure, just little stumps remain. It does not take long for my boots and gloves to become caked in mud. It is comical how much will actually stick to my feet. Mud mixed with straw reminds me of the recipe used to make mud bricks or cob. I buck like Ella at the milk bucket when she has had enough, trying to release my mud weight. Mud is flung up to ten feet. I find that walking through the weeds takes it off quite well. I am impressed at the boots that I am wearing, never have I experienced a leak with this pair (Crater Ridge). My last pair did blow out and soaked up water readily. I find the shortest rows in the tomatillos and pull the plastic from two of them.

The rain increases and wanes, I think it is time to head into the relative comfort of the poly tunnels. I notice that much of the greenhouse is drying out. There are less people around to do this job and it is less important, but there are apple tree cuttings, the citrus that I brought, figs, blackberries, herbs, and more that should be looked after. After a good soaking I take a tray of fennel, a tray of lettuce and one of spinach. It joys me to not have someone telling me how far apart to plant the seedlings. I surely have mentioned that high density planting makes the most sense to me. There are plenty of considerations when planting. Some things like head lettuce will be harvested, and if a plant is already reaching maturity planting underneath it won't effect its growth. This may slow down the seedling planted underneath, but once the mature plant is harvested the one underneath will have its day in the sun. Spacing the plants too far apart leaves room for weeds to move in, and dirt that is left un-shadded is likely to dry out quicker. Plants in nature grow on top of each other and do quite well. I understand we are growing for size and eliminating competition is a practical idea, but a little healthy competition is what makes a plant work harder to become bigger and stronger. Think of plants like a city skyline. The buildings and plants all reach up, hold their footprint and capture their share of sun. Eventually the silhouette changes as older buildings are torn down and new high-rises take their place.   

Kristen and her father are in the barn packing up produce, lots of greens. There will be peppers in the shares, but they were harvested in the weeks prior. Shares will also include garlic, cilantro, a bag of potatoes not grown on the farm, but organic all the same, and some mint or rosemary. The lugs are filled up in the barn where I am peeling garlic. The temperature is so that the cooler is turned off and the produce is left out in the open with no adverse effects. I would imagine that the cooler might even be used to keep the frost off the goods as the winter wears on.

Dinner is breakfast, pancakes, eggs, bacon, pure maple syrup and hot cocoa that Kristen's father has made. I mix the powder in some hot water from the tea kettle, it is surprisingly delicious. There is powdered milk in it and a whole bunch of other spices, cinnamon and allspice almost I'm certain of it. During dinner Fred is reached on Kristen's i-phone in a Skype session. It is 1:00 in Italy only a five hour difference. Fred's flight has been cancelled and he is getting home sick. What a poor guy stuck in Europe for an extra day or two (sarcastically). No real information is gained from the conversation as baby talk ensues as Evelyn is introduced to intercontinental video calls.

A Little Green

It's the last week of Summer CSA, the crops are falling off and the farm is transitioning to prepare for next year.

I got to bed early enough, but forgot that there would not be a flurry of activity in the kitchen to wake me up in the morning, and set no alarm. It was okay I got up by 7:30 and out by 8. Because I had the kitchen to myself I finally got to make some oatmeal in the orange iron pot. I added raisins and pumpkin seeds, and a healthy helping of raw sugar. It was great and set me off right. It has become my duty to get the lugs and fill a few for Gene back down in the barn to wash and bag so she has something to do when she first arrives. Spicy greens and arugula. I pick 5 black basket lugs. This is a lot more than I have ever picked by myself.

I join the rest of the crew picking tomatillos. I know their names by now. There is Jack, Abby, Even and Nicole, Mary of course, and Brit. I get to talking to Brit about nothing I am sure, and shortly there after she is whisked away to the barn to help Gene. There are not many tomatillos to harvest before the group is set upon cabbage, but I am to pick another lug of arugula. By the time I finish that they are on the homestretch of cabbage gathering. Kristen rolls in on the Custom and starts talking about chives while Fred is talking about leeks, I am the only one who knows where the chives are so I volunteer to take that job. 

 

It is another solo job for the day. I can relish the moments while I am free to hear myself think, not surrounded by gossip about restaurants in the area or food that the volunteers are eating at home. As I collect bundles of chives, carefully keeping the bottoms of the bunches even and wrapping them in rubber bands, Lucy won't stop her incessant bleating. Stupid cow, she should have behaved better, because it's off to the slaughter house soon, and I won't miss her.

I run into Kristen now on the golf cart, I give her my chives and she asks me to pick three more lugs of spicy greens. They want to give the CSA members a bag of each.

Whilst I was doing that the volunteers had finished picking the leeks, and were on to sweet potatoes. When I walked my lugs over to them they had just finished that too. Fred was directing them to the Sun chokes, Jerusalem artichokes, or fartichokes. Inulin in the tubers gives you the worst case of gas, so I hear. I have not eaten any. I grab a shovel and start prying them up. They are purple! There really isn't that big of a patch, these are collected to supplement the small harvest of sweet potatoes. I will use my share so that I can start my own patch at home. Just stick them in the ground, like a potato.

Right before lunch we pull off all the corn still left on the stalks and place it on a row of plastic. The corn is to be fed to the chickens this winter, while it lasts. As I go through I found a very nice ear, and I shuck it and take a bite. What a disappointment, it has lost all its flavor and is chewy. Guess it really is bird food.

At lunch Fred tells us all that when Kristen makes butter with Ella's milk, it is so rich in fat that all she has to do is skim off the cream and pour it in a bowl then sprinkle salt on top of that to make butter. Everyone is amazed at Ella's rich milk.

After lunch I am sent to hilltop to collect dill and cilantro. The weather has become radiant and warm. I am enjoying it so much that I am getting distracted by the fall foliage and warm rays. I have had my fill of down on my hands and knees. Two hours in Kristen calls me and asks how far along I am because if I could have kept a one bunch a minute pace I should have had plenty by then. I count what I have about 35 bunches of each and she wants 50. I get a third of the bunches made in a quarter of the time after this point.

In the barn I am packing up produce with Fred, an uncommon sight. Surprisingly he knows how to handle the chores in this department. Mainly we are moving lugs full of produce from the barn downstairs to the upstairs with the Custom. This is always the last chore before locking up the barn and calling it quits.

Shallow Cut

I awoke to a beautiful light outside my window and a promising new day. This did not last. In fact my fingers have not yet thawed and my typing is cumbersome. The computer is warm, this helps. Bridget and I have picked our last ground cherries, I hope. Bridget is headed home to the eastern side of the state on Thursday. For her this will be the last few days of work. I may stay on into the winter, which all depends on the projects that will be happening, or if I am allowed to head up my own. Some walls are breaking down between Bridget and I. Both of us do not trust new people as easily as others, and this starts our allegiance. My silence at many times this season Bridget thankfully accepted, has now given way to free flowing commentary. To let something out of my mouth means that it was not well thought out. Thinking and talking do not make a good pair.

In the afternoon we are set to planting some garlic. First I measure the rows with a roll-a-tape, a walk behind single wheeled measuring devise. I find that the rows are very close is size, decently shaped, but poorly plowed. I can't seem to find soft dirt to stick my garlic in. I don't complain too much, Bridget plunks away at them again just like my first day here I still struggle to keep up with her. We eventually plant three five gallon buckets full, a 223 foot row, plus 40-50 feet of the next.

 
We roll up drip tape, on a homemade jig that fits over the side of the Custum's bed, with a crank made out of pipe, one of Fred's inventions I presume. Drip tape is laid down at the same time as the plastic "mulch" for irrigation. This irrigation method delivers water to where plants need it the most at the crown of their roots, and discourages evaporation of overhead spraying.

Now Bridget and I close the barn taking all the lugs downstairs and into the basement to be filled one more time for the summer CSA.

A Strong Sense of Smell

I have a pocket full of basil seeds that are very potent,  it is probably considered sweet basil, but it has a faint anise smell. I had collected the seeds as the sun went down over the fields cool and empty, a small respite after a long day of the usual, and not as usual, harvest activities. The air is crisp and clear, fall is in the air. I drink it all in.

Again this morning with the fog, it hangs around longer and longer each day it seems. I have noticed this fog on my way into the river valley that is only a few short miles from here. Often I can see the water flowing around me, as I drive over the river. Now a mist that should by all rights fall to the ground, floats all around me. I am back to trimming off spicy lettuce greens. With each bunch my fingers grow colder and more numb. The fog has settled on the leaves, wet and healthy. As I cut the lettuce there is a faint smell of peanuts. I may have to do some research to find out the cause.

Fred shows up with the work share crew about an hour later, how they all came in at once is a mystery to me. They begin picking radishes. When I am in-between the two tasks I take second to check the asparagus seeds. They are close. When the berries turn red it means they are ripe.

I sit in the back of the custom with Evan and Nicole, they can't stop talking about how they are planning on getting a pig. I don't really broach in on the subject. Nicole offers me some trail mix that has candied ginger in it. I think I am beginning to grow fond of ginger here at the farm. We are headed up to hilltop to gather some lettuce first, then cilantro, and finally dill. I could smell the dill while we were working in the lettuce. There was some planted here previously, most of it lost to the lawn mower. What was not lost to the deer, a few rows down is growing well. Dill is delicate and soft, so crushing it in your hands is easy, but the smell does not overwhelm. Cilantro on the other hand is powerful and sticks with you for quite some time. The deer ate a good bit of it. I had one leaf, that was enough. It could be that cilantro this fresh retains all of its vitality evident in taste and smell. I truly think my body is not used to such richness due to a previous lack of well formed food molecules at home.

I have to take a leek. I have to take about 250 of them and spray them off with a hose. It has been quite some time since I had a leek, can't even remember cooking with them or seeing them in the store. And they smell too, it would be a good smell if there were only one of them in your soup, or however you prepare it. But I am standing over hundreds of them in the basement of the barn, and it is making me a little nauseous. This spraying job is not all that bad really, I get to wear a big yellow rubber smock to keep me dry. Trust the Gorton's fisherman.

Pepper Alley

It's a chilly and foggy day on the farm. Fall is in full swing as the temperature hovered around freezing last night. Trees are changing color, it seems, over night. Where do I find myself on a Monday morning? In the heritage seed garden, but only for a moment. The plants are looking shabby and only one thing really needs to be done, harvest a few things for seed. The problem is that by the end of the day I am in no mood to sift through sloppy tomatoes. I decide to look up these tomato varieties on the internet because all the markers have disappeared. The Heritage Seed Collective is a site in development, but the varieties are listed there. I used a search engine to find images of each. I took my time. Why go out in the cold when I can enjoy my tea? I find Meg in the kitchen, she has brought her "little" brother Mark to join in the work for the day. And a day of work it turns out to be. We start in the high tunnel weeding and pulling out a big patch of Sicilian squash. It is an interesting squash that is very long and cylindrical like a zucchini but some of the biggest ones grew to over four feet in length, some of them become curved depending on where they grow. We then do some hoeing in that same area. My heart almost stops as I slash downward with my hoe and notice a toad buried in the dirt, I miss cutting him in half by half an inch. He is a fat little fella, I have awaken him from a coma under the soil. At first he's very stunned I move the toad outside where the danger of hoes is much less. We plant lettuce in that area. As we finish Meg comes in and tells us to meet her in home field tomatoes.


When we arrive all the wooden steaks have been removed and are lying up and down the rows. It is our job to pick them up and bring them to the end of the row where the custom can be loaded. An easy enough task, but when you have to carry the steaks, awkward and heavy as they are, for about fifty yards it becomes more strenuous. This was just a warm up. Lynn wants us to pull out all the plants. Five 350 foot rows of plants, I can hardly believe it all the peppers, saladettes, and cherry tomatoes, done-finished-finito for the year all in one afternoon. I get the row of all striped German tomatoes, the largest and probably the hardiest of all tomatoes. These plants got big and tangled too. I could not keep up with anyone else, I assumed peppers would be easier for Mark so I let him have them. By the end of the row I am happy to have a little help from the other folks who have already finished their rows. I wonder if there is a noticeable difference for them between our respective rows. 

 

Just when it seems the fun is over we get to pull out all the plastic sheeting, a job that is actually never fun. Meg leaves us to do this job as she searches out an apartment for when she leaves at the end of next week. My row again seems to be a tough one to work with but Mark is having even more problems. I assume it is just a case of finding his groove with the new task, and some fatigue. This time I find a mole or vole, I can not discern which it is, under my plastic. He can not find a place to hide, so I pick it up (with gloves on) to see its beady little eyes, they are no good for seeing where to go in the daylight. I let him live even though it is policy to kill such "pests", besides there is plenty of food to go around. Bridget gets two rows done as I wrap up my one. Not all rows were created equal. As we pull out garbage bags to clean up Kristen calls us in for lunch.

It is hard for me to say how much I liked the soup that Kristen has made today without it sounding like I am blowing smoke. The soup was excellent. Kristen's homemade chicken stock makes a great base and has plenty of flavor from the get go. There are carrots, potatoes, couscous, sausage, and basil leaves. I think there could have been turnip, but I wouldn't have known. Kristen has also made biscuits, with Ella "yella" butter and I detect some corn meal in them, which are an excellent side.

Meg returns as we finish clean up of plastic and wooden spikes. We clean garlic till the end of the day. The barn is dark except for light which shines in-between each slat long cross sections of light. Each one a half inch gap between the weather beaten boards. I am told the gaps ensure that the hay or straw in the barn dries out and doesn't spontaneously combust due to high temperatures created in decomposition! Mark and Meg stay till the end of the day.




Why were all the students at Vegetable High in the gymnasium?

They were there for a pepper-ally. 

One Wild Ride

 When I first walked out to orchard field it was not raining and I didn't realize that it would, so I didn't take a rain coat. Now it's raining off and on in short bursts, it feels like last weeks harvest but it's warmer out. After harvesting a lug full of spicy salad greens, that look so cool with frilly leaves and different shades of red, I decide I need to get a rain jacket or I'd be soaked. At this point Bridget arrives with a new volunteer Ron, he has my rain jacket on, or at least the one I was wearing last week that belongs to the farm.



I walk back to the house to find that there are no more rain Jackets on the hooks, but I do find some muck boots that will be handy for the rest of the day. Then I see that the golf cart is sitting out on the driveway in the pouring rain. So I take it, there are more rain jackets in the barn. I head full speed down the hill towards a shortcut that heads over a steep embankment onto the gravel driveway. Normally to navigate the turn at the bottom of the dirt tracks one has to slow down. I attempt to slow down and like usual the breaks lock up a bit. I begin to fishtail wildly as I try to recover spinning the steering wheel back and forth gaining no traction and not even slowing down. In a split second I decide to forget about making it down the now muddy torn up tracks. I hold the steering wheel tight and sharp finally coming to a stop completely perpendicular to the tracks. Luckily I am facing towards the other end of the main drive and I am able to get the club car moving again and out into safety, for a moment. 

 

In all of the excitement and hurry, my adrenaline has spiked and my foot becomes lead. I whip around the corner again sideswiping a tree and getting splashed with water. I let up a bit to regain control. I speed down the lane to the barn, where I nearly run into Gene, dodge her and slam on the breaks skidding to a halt. The wildest ride I have had on the golf cart so far.

Lay me down in the dirt

The sunshine has returned to the hillsides of Western PA. It did take the sun a while to burn off the morning fog. I have shown up with my seed collected from the Mother Earth News Fair and a brochure from Expo East, to share with Fred and Kristen. Somehow I manage to have a light and nearly productive conversation with the two of them despite the fact that mornings are not my favorite.

Children of the corn have arrived at the farm, 3rd graders from the Waldorf School. By the time they leave I have hardly come in contact with them, thank god. I can hear them squealing all morning, it is not too obnoxious. As they harvest dried out corn stalks in the misty morning I do get the sense of something much more sinister beneath their colorful fall jackets and gap toothed grins.

I have a good little harvest in the heritage seed garden. Mainly for seed, picking overripe tomatoes and putting them in a bucket. The Sheboygan paste tomatoes were overloaded with small pear shaped fruit, many of which were fit for eating. Sheboygan is fun to say. Sheboygan.

I want to say we have finished planting seedlings almost entirely, I can say this because all the prepared fields are filled. I can not say that there are not more seedlings in the poly-tunnel, as there are plenty. What will become of them? Time will tell.

Lunch. We all pitch in making up a large feast. Meg has returned after a long break. Her car has broken down, an old volvo, and I don't think there are plans to fix it. She takes the Custom down to the barn so she can pick up some veggies for our stir-fry. Lynn makes baba ganoush, a garbanzo bean and eggplant puree that is great on many things. Bridget makes a salad and I cut up some turnip greens.

I have to put my sweatshirt back on because the sun has been blotted out by gray skies. This is expected in this region, I thought I would prefer that it was nice out, but I often find strength in the cool. I certainly did not like being cooked by the sun earlier in the season, I have even taken off my cowboy hat and sun glasses and put them aside for the last two weeks. Meg is stressed out because Fred has told her that the Tuesday volunteers have been complaining about having to work in the tall weeds. I suspect that this is Fred's way of telling her to do some work clearing them out. So we are in the turnips, which I believe I helped seed, stomping on the tall grass and ripping out some ragweed or thistle. When I finally come across a matured turnip the bulbous root is the size of a baseball. Impressive. I notice a few black streaks out of the corner of my eye. It seems that we are disturbing the field mice that are not used to human presence in this part of the field. They scurry into their dens.

Last week the girls pulled out all the tomato steaks and strings on the hilltop tomatoes and left them in the field. We collect them quickly, Bridget and I organize them into broken and not broken piles. There are many ways to die on the farm, and in a final destination scenario Bridget gets her shirt sucked into some machinery just to barely break free and get stabbed by the sharp end of a broken tomato steak, an agonizing and bloody death. She will be missed. After that is all cleaned up, I drive up the hill to pull plastic where the winter squash have succumbed to powdery mildew. Lynn and Meg have already started and finished a row perhaps. What comes over me next is mystery. As if possessed I rip out the plastic at a speed that surpasses even Lynn in her row started a few minutes before mine and she is in threat of getting lapped come my second row. This does not happen, I doubt she would allow it. This is the farm work-out program that is sold on late night infomercials. Great for the forearms, grip, pecks, and ob-leeks. Guaranteed to turn a fat flabby depressed slob of a human being in to a ripped and tan happy clean cut photoshop experiment.

Kristen is trimming some bushes outside the farmhouse when we get back. As I pick up the trimming I notice a distinctive red berry that seems to be open on one end. This is a yew, and when I find it in my herb book I glean some interesting information. Not only could it be used to cure cancer by inhibiting human cell division, but an insecticidal smoke is created and can keep mosquitoes away, or a cold decoction can be used on farm animals to calm their twitching nerves. I tell Kristen of my discovery, some info, that around here might come in handy.