Clearing out the Pipes

Kristen sends me a text, we won't be starting until some time after twelve noon due to the snow on the ground. If the snow doesn't melt we won't be harvesting any field greens. When field greens get a little frost on them over night most survive just fine. When they thaw out their vitals come flowing back into their veins, just don't harvest them before they thaw or the foliage will be without heft. I don't know if part of me thought that we were not getting to work today but I fiddled around the house and half prepared to leave for the farm. Right about midday Kristen sends me the word, "it's on". The snow had melted. "I'm on my way." was my reply, but there were a few more things I needed to gather before leaving. Brought some buckeyes (chocolate covered peanut butter sugar butter balls), and some lefse (Norwegian potato "tortillas"). It is always nice to share some food with people at the farm because they live and breathe it. Have to grab my boots, bag, toiletries. It is a task to move back and forth each week, but it is better than commuting again and again.

I have had a poor lunch in my rush to leave. I even forgot an apple just sitting on the counter I had intended to eat. Damn. I try and enjoy the 23 mile drive to the farm.

Probably 1:30 by the time I get out to the greenhouse with Kristen, I snagged some sunflower seeds and raisins from the pantry quickly before I went out. Fred and Kristen are standing in the animal paddock. We will all be snipping micro greens in the greenhouse. Either cabbage or radishes, and sunflowers have been sprouted in trays no further than two true leaves but preferably only the cotiledons or "seed leaves". They are planted very close together so we grab handfuls and snip off the roots. Plenty of dirt comes along with it but we are not to worry about this now. There were loads of trays ready to be harvested and this is the last day for winter CSA harvest. We clear the place out.

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Colin cleanse - at your own risk
a tablespoon or two of salt to one quart of water. If you have a back-up in the system this is supposed to blow it all out. Don't have plans for the day, or the next to be safe.
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Kristen has to leave after the micro greens. Fred and I are off to collect tatsoi.

I have the pleasure of getting all the turnips up on hilltop by myself while Fred sits in the tree stand hoping to kill his first deer. There is plenty of talk about bringing their numbers down because the damage they have done on the crops is beyond forgivable. I mention that it would be good practice for me to see and participate in the cleaning of the deer, but I may want to take my offer back. I have never field dressed a deer before and in the past slicing up animals never was my taste. One poor frog in high school was more than I could bare. Part of me was hoping Fred would miss. I collected 29 bunches of turnips. It has been getting dark around 5:30 and I didn't get to the radishes fast enough. I decide to make one bunch of them for Gene down in the barn because I know she will want them. Just as I am about to collect the final bunches, suddenly boom a gunshot clear and loud comes over the hilltop to where I am standing. Fred has fired, a deer has wandered into his field. And then BOOM, another shot a good ten seconds later. BOOM, one more. I work quickly to finish my harvesting I am sure there is a deer ready to be processed across the street.

In my hurry to drop things off at the barn I back the truck up into this rusty old contraption of Fred's. It's his peanut butter bucket cleaning station, two old metal shelving units tied together in an "A". I do minor damage. I take my turnips into the barn where I find Gene still working. I decide that it is more important that I help her with the processing of produce than to go hunting for Fred.

After all the work is done and I have returned to the house I find out that Fred has missed. Whew.

Show-up and tear it up

I roll out before 9 to get some watering done in the high tunnels. As I suspected, and Kristen confirms, they have not been watered in some time. The plants are paying a price for my absence. I find that the four way valve is on the floor and only one hose is connected to the spigot. One of the valves has busted rendering the entire contraption worthless. I get the greenhouse done and Fabio, then return to change out the hose for the other two tunnels where I find that the hose will not come off the four spigot split. I even use a wrench but the part spins not the coupling. When I bring it up to Kristen she says that Fred will fix it later and I should get to harvesting.

I ran out the door this morning without eating breakfast. So I return quickly to eat the last few pancakes that Fred Made for his guests, and some pizza from the night before. I don't usually eat pizza for breakfast and I pay the price with indigestion for the rest of the day. I took a Tums but it didn't seem to help. Every time I would bend over the contents of my stomach would slosh around, and I bent over a lot. You see that is where the crops are at.

No surprise that I will be cutting tatsoi for my first crop. I settle in for the long haul, Kristen desires two lugs full, searching out big plants that will fill my basket quickly. It feels like an hour has past when I finally fill my first basket, at the same time I realize that some four other volunteers have been in the tatsoi too and have collected a lug between them. I am very pleased to be done toiling in a crouched position. I collect a few radishes to help finish off another project.

I hop on the back of the truck with the work share kids as we drop off the goods just harvested and head to the hill top. There I pick a lug of turnips right up until the time that my brother and cousin arrive, both of them in town for Thanksgiving. It is nearly 11:30 by this time and nearly all the harvesting has finished. Kristen gives us the glamorous job of pulling up plastic. One of the worst and dirtiest jobs on the farm. Keeping it in perspective it never gets that bad. My cousin gets three rows done in the time it takes my brother and I to get one. Not all rows are created equal. I can tell this is not the farm type of job they were expecting. Luckily we all get to shuck and plant garlic until lunch!


Kristen has put together a lunch that would feed a small army, and I suppose we are. There are 24 lbs. of ground beef somewhere around here and Kristen has made a few lbs. of them into sloppy joe. Artisan bread made in the wood fired oven by a baker who wishes to rent the oven next year. There is a delicious salad and a dressing to die for, that supposedly is %50 brown sugar. A root vegetable bowl, with turnips, radish, potatoes, and carrots. To top that all off a chocolate banana bread.

Gene tells me of the small amount of work to be done in the barn. I reckon that my brother, cousin, and I can handle it lickity split. I tell Kristen my plan and she suggests that after that we finish the row of garlic we were planting. Sounds like a plan.

Hungry Hungry...

I would have turned up sooner but my cousin is in town for the holiday (thanksgiving) and we had some quality hang out time before other family begins showing up. I drag my feet after getting fully ready to go early in the morning. I even call the farm to make sure someone is home. It is hard for Kristen or Fred to get away. Might be close to 2 o'clock when I finally make it out and Fred is there doing something in the kitchen. We spend my first hour cleaning out his garage. There is a lug full of radish that we sort for good ones and compost the rest. then the recycling is sorted and tools gathered for our first real project of the day.

The plan is to work on the heritage seed garden, placing steaks for the new garden sections and marking those off.  Fred wants to plant the garlic that he brought home from Italy in the seed garden so that it doesn't get harvested and eaten. The numbers can be multiplied by this vegetative reproduction method. Each head has an average of six cloves and each of those when planted will turn into their own plant producing six more (theoretically). 

I imagine a farm concept where you start with only one clove of garlic.

Luckily I am not bothered by heights because I am chosen to climb the ladder and cut the rope that is holding the sun shade on top of the greenhouse. Fred sends me up with his multi-tool the blade out. He doesn't have time for anything slower. There is a large field behind the greenhouses where we fold the shade cloth. It is then stuck in the greenhouse ,"that will never again be used for chickens.". Fred drives in the steaks while I drag out a large sign printed on a thick plastic tarp. The back side is black and is faced towards the sun. The sign will "solarize" the spot it is lying on, snuffing out all the weeds that germinate and stopping any more from doing so. I never find out exactly what is on the sign, but this is a creative reuse for something that was surely going to the landfill after one use. A new seed garden will be started in-between the next two greenhouses.

Fred is hungry -- too hungry to continue working without a break. So we head inside where he puts together a PB&J. Kristen is back from wherever she was. The farm is having house guests tonight and they are on their way. Kristen says they were about two hours away at 2:30 and it is 4:30 now. They should be pulling in any minute, and sure enough before Fred can finish his sandwich they do. Fred assumes because the guests have arrived that he will have to entertain them. Kristen assures him that it will be fine and that we should try and finish one last project before nightfall.

Off across the street the deer have been desiccating, dismantling, disregarding, disgracing the broccoli. I remember planting these poor plants, they never had a chance. We are to remove the row covers which have been trampled and torn up by deer. This upsets Fred, the row covers are very expensive. So was the loss of broccoli. Now that the growing season is over there is no reason for the covers to be out there and what can be salvaged will be used next year. We set out uncovering the edges buried in soil and unfurling the cloth. Fred decides he can remove the rest on his own, so he lends me a headlamp to collect what broccoli I can find. It is a measly amount, the deer don't leave much behind. These roving packs are veracious eaters and once they get a taste of the good stuff they never let it go. 

Cryer Baby

Evelyn did make some noise last night. I can't tell for sure but she and I must be on the same sleep schedule, because I think I was awake before she started to fuss. Then with some reassurance we both doze off again.

It was in the morning when Fred started making noises that I knew sleep was nearing an end, I can't imagine how he entertains the baby for so long with noises and random song, things ejected from a constant stream of unconscious verbalization. Kristen has already milked the cow and is preparing to head to the barn to finish packing things up for CSA and some nice sized orders that came in. First I get to put together 11 lbs. of garlic. I count out 100 heads, cutting off the neck and roots of each. They weigh in at 13 lbs. when all said and done. Then Kristen needs five more lbs. of arugula which I am sent to cut. She only wants the young leafs, which will make the job go a little slower. I fill a black lug over thee quarters full. When I get fed up with the lack of small fare, I walk it down to the barn. It weighs in at seven lbs. and I am relieved. At this point there is not much left to do. Fred and Kristen are headed into the city for the rest of the day. They are giving a speech at Chatham University about ethics and farm community supported agriculture.

The Fatted Calf

I feel like I did at the begging of the summer, an empty pit inside of me. I fear that I am as cold as the weather. I think to myself don't take it out on these nice people. Over the past few months, and that is what it takes for me, the group has become more than the strangers showing up each week. More than that I think they understand my temperament. Extroverts can be offended by introverts easily, there is no purity on either side. I find myself in front of the outdoor oven, fire up and hot. At this point I can't figure out why Fred is stoking the thing. I just enjoy myself for a good five minutes before Fred and Evan step out to check on the flame and start their day. I am to cut salad greens in Orchard field. This I had assumed, somehow while I was standing there Jen, Jack and Kristen had ridden over. Fred and Evan will be pulling out drip line or plastic, I do not envy this job, but I am getting sick of cutting greens.

Snip, snip, snip, snip, snip and carelessly I cut the tip off my glove. Cold fingers is the main discomfort, maybe it distracts from the pain in my knees which are huddled close to my chest. I think of how I saw the ducks sitting this morning and will see Maggie sitting the same way later, legs tucked under the body to keep them warm. Crouching farmer hidden tatsoi. I long for the feeling of being completely alone out here. I breathe deeply and am not subject to my perception of the presence of human intellect. If I am not prepared to speak no one will ask me to. The birds enjoy my deliberate ground dwelling life as it is, and so they sing me a song.

I had yet to harvest a turnip, but I had seen them maturing. The first one I pulled today was bigger than a softball. A family of four could make a meal of it in some desperate times. I think it was split at least a little, otherwise the flesh must be thick and crunchy. Again I am left feeling dismantled by the whole picking experience. A drab and boorish task cloaked in gray. There is some satisfaction in filling up a lug with this root, dipped in dirt.
 

I am thankful for getting a job as mindless as spraying off the root crops. Dirt on, dirt off. Again, some faint satisfaction from seeing a brown radish turn white. It is addicting like a lotto scratch off ticket.

Today we eat Lucy stew. Finally the the fattened calf has been slaughtered. No more will she bray and disturb the wilderness so needlessly. My, she tastes good. We could be whacking groundhogs with a baseball bat and cooking them up for stew instead. I prefer this.

I get to wash root crops again after lunch, all by myself. Part of the task occupies the mind with keeping track of numbers. It's good to know that we have gathered enough for everyone.

Chris and his wife Kaitlyn have returned this evening to make pizza. This is why the oven was hot today. Chris gets some satisfaction of his own in the process of making pizza. He has brought dough, even though Fred has some in the freezer that he would like to use.

Greensleeves

I am skipping the rest of the week because I have another project with a deadline, but I have come to help harvest. We don't even start until 10, daylight savings is over. Or has it just begun? Either way this later start time is agreeable to my sleep schedule. I am right on time.

Evan and Nicole pull in right behind me. We all head to the kitchen where we find Fred washing the milk pale. This week there will be no Cathy, there will be no church ladies, without agreeing upon it we have brought items for a pot luck lunch. I have Swedish meatballs that are well past their prime which I have pilfered from my mother's freezer, frost burn and all. Nicole has made butternut squash and chickpea salad. It has a special dressing that is quite delicious I find out later. I also find out later that Mary, the one true vegetarian in the group has made lentil stew. Kristen has made blue corn bread to go with Kristen's chili, when directed I add raisins into the crock.

Kristen goes whipping by on the club car out towards orchard field with Jack sitting shotgun. I am the only one to notice, but I make it known, and so we all head out to meet them.

It's election day, and there is little doubt that anyone on the farm is even interested in Mitt Romney. Political talk is always kept short, we all know it's not worth delving into. An agreeable argument is no argument at all. I mention that I have seen a Romney/Ryan lawn sign that had a black spray paint skull and cross bones on it. I kind of know who did it, the sign was in his parents yard. Jack says that Mitt scares him, and that is it. We go right back to cutting salad greens. Jack is not known to be a talker, at this point neither am I.

The sun has graced us with it's presence on this fine day, yet I find it hard to fill lugs like I was a few weeks ago. My knees are bothering me today, all the crouching is hard on them. Picking salad greens in the fetal position does keep your vitals warm.

I am sent down to the barn to work with Gene, on my way down I stick the meatballs in the outdoor over which is heated to about 450 degrees F. Gene packs bags upon bags with the greens we have sent down. I don't think she weighs each one but a quarter of a pound goes in the plastic bag. I always think of a burger weighing a quarter lb. when compared to how many greens go in the bag it is laughable; not that much meat, but a healthy serving of greens. I am put on root crop washing duty. I mistake turnip greens from undersized daikon radish, which I end up washing a little later when Kristen walks them in from across the street. I am not aware at first that the club car has broken down and is derelict on the hill side. Kristen is the only other one who knows about my meat balls and she is stuck in the barn with me. Time flies when you go into a monotonous task like washing radish, next thing I know an hour and forty five minutes have passed by the time I finish my chore. I escape as soon as I can to check on my offering by the time I get there they have become a little crispy. Acceptable in taste considering how long they were in the freezer and in the oven.

Mary votes for the green party, and is unsure of her decision. I say she has done the right thing.

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?