Low Clouds

Worked beneath low, dark clouds all day through. Drizzled in spits here and there, after closing the rain came steady. Temperature about 72F.


Jumped out of the car and joined the boys heading out to the lower fields. It was Stretch, NYU, Newport and me-- full crew today. CSA demands have been rising-- more members have been joining as the season has progressed. More of everything was needed for this afternoon, so first up: lettuce. We cut 6 crates worth of loose leaf, then moved over and pulled 2 crates worth of beets. The foreman rolled over in the tractor, picked up the catch and dropped off trays/quarts--strawberries up next. We picked through the 3 long rows of day neutrals-- vermin/insects/mold have been a big problem. Half the of the ripe berries were damaged beyond use, but we managed to fill 10 quarts. The weather outlook for tonight was bleak-- thunderstorms/hail/local flooding (/tornadoes?). NYU was supposed to be heading south to visit his girlfriend for the weekend-- he was going to be driving through the worst of it. He didn't seem worried. NYU said-- Well, if I die it would save me a lot of paperwork, that and you know a lifetime spent within some middle class bureaucracy. He was in a sunny mood.

We brought the berries back to the store and it was getting late. Grabbed some pick-buckets and got blueberries from the nearest field until lunch.


After lunch we marched to the hilltop and pulled 3 buckets worth of potatoes. Carried them back downhill and started to scrub things up. The CSA trickled along slowly, ominous weather kept the fair weather families at home. Washed up: more cucumbers, pickling cukes, summer squash, the lettuce, beets and potatoes. Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew picked 30lbs of tomatoes-- Purple Cherokees and some Moskvich. The blueberry fields near the boss's house were collapsing beneath their berries weight-- some bushes had infinitely more berries than leaves. We spent the rest of the day filling bucket after bucket with blueberries and carting them back to the store. Filled 5 trays in no time.

When closing time came, the boss had paychecks-- hurray!


Darlin is on her way up to stay the weekend-- but her bus is passing through the worst of all this weather. I'm a bit jittery about it. Whelp. Not level headed enough to write more now.

Sun is supposed to be out tomorrow, so Darlin and I might go wandering the farm fields-- maybe we'll shoot a few pictures.

Aside:
My boots aren't worth shit. I got a new pair of Wolverine work boots at the start of this spring and the whole front has rotted through. Duct tape and elastic bands are all that's holding the toe together. I mean, the soles are great-- rugged and perfect. Most of the leather is fine too-- it's just where the two connect (sole and leather). It's all just falling apart. There's a cobbler next door to my back-up pizza shop, maybe I'll bring 'em over. Anyway.


Stay dry and take it easy.

Stretch 'n Me

Glory day. Full sun all the way through. Temperature stuck in the lower/mid 70Fs.

Gathered around with the boys out back. The foreman and I cleaned out and organized the produce wagons for today's CSA while NYU and Stretch dealt with the greenhouse. The boss rolled in with the new van-- we spent a long time checking it out. One of these days the boss plans to get the farm name/family crest sprayed on the side-- we'll see if that happens in my lifetime. Newport called out for the day-- going into the city to meet his girlfriend's parents. Good luck to him. We got through some awning maintenance and got the day's orders.

NYU, Stretch and I got knives, shears, elastics, pick crates and marched over to the forest field-- basil time. The row was looking pretty weak-- not much growth since last cutting. All the same we managed to get 2 big crates worth. The boss drove up and stole NYU away for market-- just Stretch and me for the rest of the day. We got back to the store, took a tower of buckets and returned to the forest field-- big picking time. We hunkered down and got: 2 buckets of zucchini and 3 1/2 buckets of summer squash. We stowed everything in the shade behind the wood's edge, it was lunch time.


After lunch Stretch and I got back to the forest field picking.  We got: 2 buckets of kousa squash, a handful of patty pan, and 7 buckets of cucumbers. The boss drove up and we loaded in all the zucchini, summer squash and basil from this morning, plus all the kousa/cucumbers. Next up were the pickling cukes-- Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew really did a number on these yesterday so things looked a bit slim. We got only 2 buckets after an hour's picking. Stretch and I  took the long road, and carried the buckets back to the store. The CSA was in full swing, so we washed up the cukes and handed them over to Easy. Met up with the foreman, we laid back in a field smoking and waiting for the boss.

The van came too soon and it was back to work. Pulled 2 drums of diesel from the van and refueled the foreman's tractor. Time for some business with the boss-- he waved Stretch and me over, we hopped into the van. First up, we drove to the blueberry field on the far side of the cow pasture-- the crew had just finished picking. Loaded 5 trays of blueberries, then picked up another tray left in the field across from the boss's brother's house. Gave one blueberry tray to Easy for CSA and packed the rest into the cooler.The boss's daughter called up from the second market-- she'd run out of corn. Time to pick.

The boss drove us down to the lower field with 3 burlap sacks. Strolling down the line, the boss gave us corn picking 101-- then we got to work. 60 ears a bag, we filled them up in now time-- loaded them into the van and the boss zoomed off to market. Final job of the day-- before leaving the boss told us to get the irrigation line out of the tractor road going through the corn, so the foreman could harrow down the weeds. We obliged.

Closing time was near. After piling up the irrigation pipe we walked on back to the store-- the boss had returned and he waved us home. Another day's worth done.


Darlin is coming tomorrow night-- so maybe the two of us will go and snap some pictures this weekend. Would have brought the camera today but, didn't want to spoil the farm effect for her. Ehehe.

Take it easy.

Working Day

Full sun throughout the day, big clouds drifting by. Temperature was about 82F.

Picking day full throttle.

Bah and Rudolpho's crew had a real early morning, they picked: corn, summer squash, zucchini, kousa, patty pan, cucumbers, pickling cukes, green peppers and chard. Stretch, NYU, Newport and I loaded the buckets/crates onto the tractor and took 'em back to the store-- where we washed, boxed and chilled the lot. It took all morning. We rummaged through the barn and dragged out a few hundred buckets-- tomato time is getting close and we're gonna need 'em. We separated (easier said than done when a winter's worth of crap binds the bucket stacks together), washed and left the buckets out to dry. NYU and I went down to the lower fields with 16 crates, time for the lettuce. We got 10 crates of loose leaf and 6 big cardboard boxes of romaine. Found a lot of damaged lettuce and a few piles of deer droppings. Cut 3 crates of kale-- 2 red boar, 1 dinosaur. Added the greens into the wash rotation and we scrubbed at the sink until lunch.


After lunch Stretch, NYU and I finished the remaining lettuce. Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew marched off to get a few trays of blueberries/raspberries before calling it an early day. The boss had special plans for us. We grabbed hoes and 2 buckets apiece, then hiked over to the far side of the hilltop-- potato time! Digging potatoes is pretty enjoyable, NYU says it's like looking for gold-- red gold, the boss smiled. Spirits were pretty good. We've never planted so many potatoes-- but people in the CSA are crazy about them. Out of the 20 some beds of potatoes, we stuck to 1 (double row) bed of the red potatoes. They're thin skinned and mature the fastest. The foreman told me-- the potatoes aren't the plant's seeds, ya know, they're tubular roots where they store water and nutrients. So we pulled 'em-- pretty good sized ones too (from thumb sized to 2 fists put together).

Got 8 buckets of potatoes from 1/3 of one bed. The boss was off to get the new van so our crew walked a few feet over to the winter squash. Weeding time again. Spent the rest of the day clearing out the rows-- 7 out of the 20 rows remain. Long day's work.

Exhaustion snuck up on all of us-- NYU disappeared for an hour to 'get water', Newport and I slumped onto a big log for a smoke but we dozed off a few minutes instead. Stretch got us moving again and it was back to work. Closing time came and homeward bound.


Found the camera and let it charge all day. Sleep can't come soon enough.
That's how it goes. But pictures tomorrow, if I get the chance.

On to it then.

The Matter of Rosy

Wild weather today and a lot to talk about. Gonna be a long post. Skip to the break at the end if you're interested in what happened to Rosy the cow. (No pics today forgot camera, gotta find it...)


The day started cloudy and wet-- became hot and sunny-- then thunderstorm/tornado warnings at closing. Temperature started at 65F, hiked up to 85F and now is back down at 72F.

Started real early today on account of a dentist appointment (still got to work a little late). My uncle, the one who swung by for a drink/smoke/chat last week, is the head dentist-- but this one guy (Rod) always cleans up my teeth. I only mention all this because of where our conversation led.  Rod lives way out west state in one of the towns pounded by the tornadoes early this spring. He grew up working on his best friend's family orchard-- small world, I met the old woman (the best friend's mother) at markets all last season. She would sneak me hunks of pumpkin cake (cream cheese frosting) every week. Coincidentally, last weekend Rod and his best friend got their old work crew together to replant 200+ of the old woman's trees torn up by the tornadoes. So in between business we talked farms and orchards, then things led to chickens.

Rod's wife is real easy going (never asks/needs for a thing), so when she asked him the big question he caved quick. She wanted to breed chickens. The have a good sized piece of land, so he built a massive coop which she filled up with 12 different varieties of fowl-- to test out the types and find her favorite. Sure enough-- and when Rod said this my heart plopped into my stomache, she decided to breed Barred Rocks. The whole appointment broke down-- we talked about their habits, their care, their eggs and meat. Rod has 2 kids who go crazy caring for the chickens. Their whole family is in love with these birds. He hasn't cooked any of them yet, but ownership had a few traumatic childhood moments all the same (his 8 year old son accidently stepped on a chick and crushed it, many tears where shed).

Rod gave me a lot of good chicken stories, I could fill the whole post with 'em (but I wont). We finally finished up and I told him-- hey, if you ever get too many Barred Rock chicks poking around gimmie a call. He was ecstatic.

On with the farm already.

Hustled in and we packed the boss/NYU up for market. Tuesdays mean one thing, Big Boy is back. I wrangled him, Stretch and Newport together--  and we hiked the hill top for some raspberry picking. Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew came up after a time to help out. The berries were in rough shape, wet weather had caused many to mold/rot. This variety didn't compare well to the taylor raspberries from the last couple weeks (plain in taste and the canes formed differently-- picking was a lot slower/more difficult). Filled up 2 trays and hiked them back to the store.

Next up: the day's big project, weed the field of winter squash. We climbed up the hill top, these squash are on a slope across from the potatoes. The foreman had used the hood-sprayer last week to clear the travel rows, but the 20 rows of squash were overwhelmed in weeds. This was gonna take a while. Worked though to lunch, clearing 1 row.


After lunch we got back up and hit the squash again. The foreman came to lend a hand. Pulling by hand is faster when the weeds are big and thick, so we pulled by hand. Big Boy muddled about in the dirt, bored out of his mind. The foreman wasn't impressed, he shouted-- get off your ass, either work harder or hide your slacking better.

Weeding is the hard work test-- it's endless, mindless and dirty. If you can't keep it clean (every weed means: every weed), consistent and move along at a decent speed-- then you might need to rethink working on a farm. Everyone deals with the weeding drudgery differently: the foreman listens to recorded talk shows on his ipod, Newport sings/talks to himself or anyone in earshot, Bah has a headset and talks to his wife on the phone, Old Rudolpho talks to his grandson Jay-jay (or teaches him to sing depending on the weather), NYU has his books on tape, Rhode Island shares his sexual fantasies (when off meds) or apologises for mistakes he made 5 years ago (on meds), Stretch stares into the dirt, and I think things over. To be honest, this stuff is what lead me to farming in the first place.  A person gotta work, but I didn't want to be paid to think-- I'd rather keep a price off my thoughts. 6 hours of straight weeding is the perfect time to think over whatever I damn please. They can have my arms, but I'll keep my head. --Ehehe didn't mean to get into, what the boys call, this 'heady shit.' So anyway, we weeded all day.

Around closing Newport called me over and pointed to some deep purple thunderheads coming from the west. The foreman had left to get in some spraying, so Newport split-- he ran downhill and drove home. I held Stretch and Big Boy back-- the row we started needed to be finished. Pulled the last weed right as a lightning bolt shot out west. 8 winter squash rows finished out of 20-- tomorrow is another day. We scampered downhill and met the foreman by the store radio-- severe thunderstorm/tornado warnings. We took down the awning, packed all the loose pick crates into the barn, closed up the greenhouse, put the chairs away in the ice cream area and battened down the store. The rain picked up and the lightning was close and loud as all hell. Sat smoking with the foreman out back-- chatting and watching the storm. He packed up and clear out-- time for home.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Matter of Rosy
(Rosy)

Crisis of the week-- the boss's brother auctioned off Rosy and her bull-calf. The boss's daughter was furious. When her aunt (brother's wife) came up to the store, the daughter asked real pissy-- so who decided to send Rosy to the slaughterhouse? To the auction-- her aunt corrected.

That all happened yesterday after closing. The boss pointedly decided he had nothing to say on the matter-- they are his brother's cows.

Today after closing and the foreman left, the daughter told me that the cow lady came by-- looking for blood. (The cow lady is a very heavy set, older woman who often parks by the side of the road and wanders out to commune with the cows.) Anyway the cow lady was mad as hell, she shouted down the daughter saying-- I offered to buy Rosy off the boss many times, how the hell could you monsters do this?!

The daughter told her-- 'No, you couldn't have taken Rosy. A cow requires acres of grazing (plus heavy labor to keep it cleared and then a tractor to plant/harvest grasses), a fence, a barn for heavy weather, hundreds (or thousands) of dollars worth of feed over the winter (and again, a tractor to transport the feed bales), lots of water, a place to put thousands of lbs. of poop and an experienced owner-- someone who can catch/herd them when they escape (happens at least once a year), a person who can recognize/intervene in cases of sicknesses/physical medical problems, someone who can work with them objectively/from an emotional distance: because cattle die, sometimes for what seems like no reason at all.'

When the cow lady offered to buy Rosy the first time, the boss and his brother went to check out her place-- she lacked the space. She could afford to buy the cow, but not to care for it. The daughter continued, 'You can treat a cow like a pet, but farm livestock are not dogs or cats or birds. Rosy was a beef cow. I treated her like a pet growing up, but truth is-- we got rid of her because she was a terrible mother. She never took to her calf. Every year from here on, she would bear another calf that she wouldn't be able to raise. Left alone, each of her calves would starve to death. My uncle is too old and can't afford to raise another 10 years worth of calves by the bottle-- creating future generations of female cows who can't mother in the process. It's sad, I was upset too, but this is a farm and they are beef cows-- that's how it goes.'

I've been thinking over all this a lot (it's what I do).

 I agree for the most part with what the daughter said to the cow lady (that I heard second hand). Then again, it figures they'd auction the one cow with a name-- but she was the only one with a major social problem. And if you haven't guessed, the boss's brother isn't the sort of person who'd really consider bringing in a 'cow psychologist' to sort out the issue. All the same, I'm sad an animal I've worked around for a while is now gone. She was curious about people, liked attention and being patted. But I gotta remind myself sometimes, this isn't a show-piece farm-- it's a working farm. It has one purpose: to produce food-- food for the boss and his extended family, food for the crews, food for me and my family/friends, and then food to be sold so that the farm can continue to exist. For all that can be said about them, the boss, his brother and foreman take that purpose very seriously. Maybe the boss's brother felt a little bad about selling Rosy, maybe he didn't-- after auctioning off hundreds of cows over the years, maybe he stopped emotionalizing each sale. Maybe that's a bad thing, maybe it isn't.

And again it occured to me, this is the ideal farm and these are the ideal beef cows. This isn't supermarket manufactured hormoned grade C chuck hamburger. Rosy is the ideal-- the healthy, grass fed, spaciously raised happy cow. She's the one that people eager to escape the pitfalls of industrial-agro dream of at Wholefoods.

I talked this over with Darlin last night. She is a strong proponent for animal rights, so she had an entirely different perspective on Rosy. We talk over these sorts of matters a lot to be honest. I like thought wrestling, picking into my assumptions is necessary to keep my feet on the ground and: I like to be proven wrong-- maybe I'm a masochist or something.

(Warning: 'headier shit' inbound/an opportunity to get my food sermon out there)

The Rosy situation is sad, it's a shame. I feel bad this cow is going to be slaughtered, but I'm sticking to omnivore-- my meat diet isn't changed.

Generally speaking, big M morality stuff (particularly in the case of food) isn't my thing. Yes, I go out of my way to eat good/ healthy food-- working on the farm gives me a physical aversion to shit food (won't ever eat a supermarket tomato or apple again). But none of this has much to do with what I'm talking about with Rosy and my eating meat.

When it comes down to 'right' and 'wrong', I just can't pull the punches to let myself off easy-- there is no difference between killing Rosy/ killing a cow at the mass sprinkler-cooled meat 'ranches' out in the west/midwest. One is just as serious/weighty/or weightless an act as the other. ('Because it's my cow' doesn't mean she's more a cow than another cow, though losing her might hurt a lot more emotionally.) One's meat may be healthier, but the killing is the same.

Time to put on my King Lear hat:

We've put a lot of distance between many things and ourselves, especially in the US, here in 2011. Death is something we've cast far, far, far out of mind and our day-to-day routines.
But I'm a firm proponent:
Death is to life as life is to death. Or to put it differently-- there cannot be life without death.

And I mean that literally, in the big all-inclusive heavy sopping-wet sense.
For example (this one came after one very, very long day in the cold early spring fields):
The soil itself is composed of and contains all the dead and decomposed animals/plants/people that lived before us (plus their excrement). They provide the very nutrients that allow today's life to live-- from oak trees, to algaes/molds, to the grass the cows eat, to the lettuce and tomatoes I eat (every step up the food chain relies on that decomposed dead turned soil, otherwise: no soil, then no greens, then no rabbits and there's no hawk). I think to seperate or to hold myself adrift from that food chain, for whatever reason (even when that chain is broken/artificialized), is to confuse or fool myself about how near and interdependent death is to my life.

But still, I feel bad that Rosy is gone-- I am human and emotionalize my relationship with this one cow-- that's how it goes.


To put it differently (again), one of my farm heroes said: How is it that, at the age of 38, and having consumed some unthinkable number of chickens in my life, this will be the first time that I’ve personally killed a chicken?

But yadda yadda, from all I'm saying here... it's not like everyday I'm staring out over a burning marsh-wasteland of cascading death. I'm not wringing my hands at dinner, weeping at the grave atlas-responsibility I've assumed in order to munch on a hambone. The act/memory of Death (an animal's, a plant's, a person's) is whatever we make it. When someone dies: some cultures mourn the death, others celebrate the life-- maybe both haven't got it entirely pinned down. I dunno, you think about it.


I'm spent. To wrap it all up: long live Rosy, sad to see you go, but I hope the folks that chomp ya are well fed.

As for me, beer and cigarettes are in order, then back to doin' all this over again tomorrow.
Where's that damn camera.

Take it easy and don't think too much.

King Harvest is Surely Come

Corn in the fields. ehehe.
Overcast all morning, gave way to rain mid-afternoon. Temperature dipped to 69F and low 70Fs.


Corn is in the fields! Today was the first corn picking day-- Bah and Old Rudolpho were in the rows filling sacks all morning. First tomatoes too! Not many, but 10lbs of the moskvich came red and ready from the fields (they're the quickest to mature, 60 days from transplant to fruit). Wednesday is heavy picking, but today was variety day.

Waved down Newport and Stretch out behind the store, they watched and chatted as I watered down the greenhouse. The boss was out harassing the van dealership-- we're supposed to get the new van Wednesday (I think), but he wanted it early (didn't happen). So we followed the work list-- passed round the knives, grabbed the crates and bustled out to the lower field. We cut: 1 case of romaine, 1 case of loose leaf, 1 case of dinosaur/red boar kale, pulled 1 case of beets (first planting to survive to harvest, if you remember the previous rounds didn't work out so well), 15 quarts of strawberries. We stacked up the catch by the roadside and the foreman came by with the tractor, wagon piled high-- 15 buckets of big cucumber, 6 buckets of pickling cukes, 3 buckets of summer squash, 3 zucchini buckets, 1 bucket of kousa/patty pan squash, 4 bags of corn and a single green pepper. Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew had a busy morning.

Back at the store we set to work, washing the greens and lettuce, washing the cukes and squash, the beets, the kale, and the rest. We packed everything into bushel boxes and started loading up the cooler. It must have been a busy weekend, the walk-in was nearly empty-- we fixed that. Stretch and I finished rubbing down the pickling cukes and we all headed to lunch.


Action days-- gotta love 'em. After lunch we got out the buckets and loaded them up with Urea fertilizer (46% nitrogen). One of the maturing lettuce beds had developed a yellow tint to their bottom leaves, due to a nutrient deficiency-- the foreman sent us over to fix it. Stretch and I spread around all around the plants-- the boss pulled up right as we finished. He figured that since we were out there we might as well fertilize the string beans (they looked a bit nutrient stressed too). Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew was picking the beans, so we slid past them and spread the Urea. It seemed to go real fast-- though I did have to follow behind Stretch and shake the pellets off the plant leaves (concentrated nitrogen can burn/damage the plant if it isn't absorbed properly through the soil). Newport was out picking raspberries in one of the hill top fields that's just on the edge of harvest time. We finished up with the beans and headed to the trellised tomatoes. They were looking in need of nitrogen, so we laid it on along the plastic wraps' edges. Put away the fertilizer and Stretch ambled out to join Newport in the raspberries.  I stuck behind to move some irrigation lines out of the foreman's way-- he had a lot of harrowing to do: next years strawberries' soil is getting prepped and several beds are spent and need replanting.

Headed back to the store and chatted around with the boss's daughter-- Viking took a couple days off, so she is watching after things. I am thick into poison ivy bought number 10+, but the daughter apparently has a steroid cream that works wonders (though it might bleach the skin temporarily). She said she'd bring some by tomorrow, we'll see about that. Then again, I was chain smoking all day as the ivy rashes around my knees were driving me crazy. Caught up with Jockey, then headed back to the lower fields with the trimmer.

All the sunflowers NYU and planted in early spring have busted up 4-5ft tall-- unfortunately you can hardly see them as the grasses and weeds along the wall have grown even taller (nearly choking the flowers out). I fired up machine and dealt with the long grasses, I had plans later in the day for the weed-bushes. The rain started slowly and built up over an hour. The foreman waved me over to the corn field at one point-- we hunted down the rows and each took a good ear. Ate 'em raw. Sweet as a berry. Got back to trimming-- headed up and cleared all the travel rows through the lower fields blueberries. It really started raining.

Time was flying somehow-- trimming must have taken a while, as closing was a half-hour away. I brought the trimmer back to the greenhouse and found Stretch/Newport seeding a new round of lettuce. I took up the machete and headed through the rain to deal with those weed-bushes around the sunflowers. Hacked them up and down-- people driving by must have thought I was psychotic.

Finished up and met the boss at the store. Things really seem to be working out for the best this year. He fixed the water pump's primer crank over the weekend, but blew a gasket. The replacement is due to arrive in a few days-- but wouldn't ya know it, here's the rain and irrigating doesn't even matter. The boss is getting giddy (or as near giddy as he can get) over the approach of the high season: when the corn hits stride and the tomatoes explode into red. It's contagious. I can't wait to get out there and pluck buckets full. Supposed to rain through tomorrow morning, so we'll see what's to be done. Took my leave and headed home.


Photo day tomorrow? Yes I think so. Though I got a morning doc appointment... but that doesn't matter. A day has room for it all.

On to tomorrow.

Fire in the Field and the Mother Hen

Hot and humid. Temperature stuck at 102F through the afternoon.

I met the boys out behind the farm store, sitting in the shade. It was NYU, Newport, Jockey and I-- today was the day: the hot one. This was also Jockey's proving day-- he was excited and ready to go. First we handed out knifes, grabbed buckets, pick crates and hiked up to the forest field. We cut 80 bunches of basil (2 cases), 1 bucket of summer squash, 1 bucket of zucchini, 2 buckets of pickling cukes and 6 buckets of big cucumbers. The heatt came down on us hard and fast. I sent the boys over to the corn field to move the irrigation line, so the foreman could get down the travel road with the tractor. I ran back to the farm store, refilled everyone's water and grabbed several pick trays and quart containers. Waved the crew over to the day neutral strawberries and we got picking.

Some hours and many quarts of strawberries later, we had the entire field cleared. We dumped the strawberries with Viking, and loaded up the boss's car with everything for today's market. Spinach was up next, we pulled the boxes from the cooler and bunched up four or five crates worth. Cleaned over the yard, stacked up boxes and crates, then washed up the produce wagons. Pomp, one of the kitchen girls who hasn't been around much, was in.

The hours of morning picking had taken a heavy toll on the boys-- NYU was fighting back vomit and delusions. Pomp nearly had a heart attack when she saw us-- she once suffered a dangerous bought of heat stroke in Africa, so she knew just what to do. Pomp set up a little med clinic in the cooler-- we all drank ice cream cups full of salt/iodine water (something about iodine salt is real effective at transporting liquids throughout the body). She turned to NYU saying-- I don't care if your fucking embarrassed, take off your shirt. She took the shirt, dunked it and his hat in a bucket of cold water. NYU slipped back into his wet clothes and Pomp put wet towels on the back of all our necks. We dunked our heads in the bucket of water and drank our bottles dry. The boss joined us in the cooler and shooed us off to lunch.


After lunch, the boys were back to health. NYU's nausea, stomach and head ache were gone. He said he owed Pomp his life, and that-- working the farm is great, but not worth dying over. NYU, Jockey and I sat out back for a while. I slapped Jockey on the back, because damn-- I've never seen anybody have a better first day. He cut veggies fast and consistent, he stayed tough despite the hell heat and never once complained-- he's a funny kid to have around, even NYU and Newport started to like him. The foreman was having another bad day, so we cleared out quick. Jockey, NYU and I filled 4 trays with pints, grabbed pick buckets and dragged our mess across the farm to the blueberry field beside the cow pasture. We sat a long time joking by the stream in the shade. Then it was time to pick.

Newport wandered over to join us and a hot breeze kept the lot of us sweating through the field. We talked as we worked, about everything-- the foreman, filth, the boss, bad choices, people, the shit that happens, Jockey going to college, the city, farms, this farm, money, jobs, having a penis, women and experience. As Newport made clear-- what's said in the field stays there. All the same, I got a very different my picture of the farm's future after out chat. Turns out a trust/contract was drafted up to protect it for the next 300 years (literally). Never in my lifetime, my kids', their kids', their kids' kids' lifetime will this land be chopped up or sold away-- it'll still be a farm long after I'm dead. Crazy. Newport is the foreman's best friend, so he gave us a peak into the guy behind the tractor. Seems that the foreman and the boss really aren't on the same page (at all)-- this could be the foreman's last season. Life is taking him elsewhere. And that's a real shame.

We picked right through the afternoon, up until a few minutes before closing. We carried back 4 full trays of blueberries and the buckets-- stowed 'em all in the cooler. The boss was nowhere to be found, so the foreman took us up to the forest field to shift along an irrigation line. We shambled down the hill and started readjusting the trellised tomato lines while waiting for the boss. He came round with the paychecks and we all ran for home.

Stuck around a bit to chat with Viking-- NYU's girlfriend drove from down south and picked him up from work. We waved them off. The foreman was down in the greenhouse hiding from Easy and all the CSA members bustling about. He spent all day wringing his hands over the water pump, but never got it running. Had a cigarette with him, then the foreman and I went on our way.


The weekend is here. Picture, pictures, pictures. I should take some.
Oh well, what am I gonna do with myself... Drink the weekend away? Almost forgot, I wrangled my brother into another guitar/mandolin concert. We'll be playing some old old, type music on Sunday. So it's a drinking/rehearsal weekend.

Aside:  (8th bought of poison ivy? Really lost count)
Seeing my uncle last night was good. Over some cigarettes and many drinks, he told me about a very different world, one I missed. All the factories, the fights, the stories, shops and nights-- that happened 40 years before I was born. Interesting stuff if you were me. Whelp. That's all for now.

Take it easy.

What's the Difference Between Jam and Jelly?

Hot, very hot and a thick haze choked the air-- when the foreman woke up this morning (he told me), he walked out to the little porch off his apartment and saw the hazy sunrise: it was thicker than cigarette smoke. Thermometer bounced between 97F and 98F. Humid as a wet diaper.


Got in early again this morning and caught NYU down in the greenhouse watering the seedlings-- he was all dolled up in bermuda shorts and a tucked in polo for market. I tried not to laugh. We really soaked through the trays and let the water flood up in the rosemary pots. Especially on hot days you gotta be sure to let the hose run a few minutes before turning it on the plants-- the first 30 seconds of water comes out searing hot and would poach the plants to death. Newport, Stretch and I made up today's wrecking crew-- as per the boss's orders, we marched up to the forest field with pick crates to cut basil.

We filled three crates to overflowing-- had to sit on the top just to lock the latches. Since yesterday more cucumbers, summer squash and zucchini ripened up-- so we stashed the basil crates in the shade and marched down the field with a couple buckets. Midway through the pickling cukes the morning air burned off into the full day heat. Stretch parcelled us out some water from the 2 gallon jug he schleps around. We got 2 big buckets of pickling cukes, 1 full bucket of summer squash and 1 small bucket of zucchini. The boss swung around in the rental van and hauled us and the catch back to the farm store.

Today was double market, so we helped NYU load up the van then stuffed the cooler with our crates, the squashes and 9 buckets of string beans that Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew picked. Next up, the foreman took us over to the tomato fields to shift the irrigation line up to the field top. We got the water running without a hitch, except that the priming crank broke off-- it's the bit that slowly pulls the air out of the 40ft suction pipe, inching the water up to the pump fan which drives the entire irrigation system. That means we couldn't stop the pump for the rest of the day, or else we wouldn't be able to get it started again. So we spun different water gates to divert the pressure while working out the kinks in the tomato line. Fixed up everything successfully-- then horsed around along the water guns, catching a brief break from the heat. It felt pretty damn good.

Either the boss or the foreman must have been feeling sadistic-- as they sent Newport, Stretch and I out to the lower fields to hand weed the 3 mature lettuce beds. We were prepared for death marching out to the field's center, but the job went surprisingly quick and pleasant. Finished just in time for lunch.


After lunch we had a big pow-wow behind the store-- Newport, the foreman and I sat around smoking as Viking and Jockey chatted around with us. For some ridiculous reason Jockey has harassed the Boss relentlessly into letting him try the fields-- tomorrow is Jockey's big chance. Of course tomorrow is supposed to be even hotter than today (100F+), so he grilled us endlessly: what should he wear, how much water would he need, what would we be doing. I decided a long time ago that everyone was a bit too hard on the kid, so I tried to answer all his questions and calm him down-- the fields aren't a death camp (despite what NYU told him). Viking made a big batch of limeade with a couple liters of seltzer instead of tap water-- tasted divine. At one point I noticed that Stretch was out hoeing the young lettuce by himself. Just then the boss pulled in.

He'd brought over a big shipment of spinach from a neighboring farm for the CSA today, so Newport, Jockey and I got busy bunching. Easy arrived and we helped him get the beans and greens out on the produce carts. The foreman took me aside-- he wanted the young lettuce fertilized with a 19-19-19 mix (% nitrogen, phosphorous, potash). I cut a few bag open and poured them into some buckets, then we headed out to give Stretch a hand (I brought some limeade for him out of pity).

We hoed out one bed of the young lettuce and I started sprinkling the fertilizer (very sparingly) while Newport and Stretch got started on the second young lettuce bed. We crept along for an hour and some. Just as I was about to finish fertilizing the first bed-- the foreman waved me out of the field. The broccoli and cauliflower we planted on the hilltop needed to be watered tomorrow, it was time to get the water gun line in place. The foreman had a wagon piled high with pipes hooked up to the tractor-- I climbed on top and we rolled up hill.

We reached the field and got to work. The foreman crawled the tractor and wagon along the travel road-- I lept up and down from the wagon laying out 3in water gun pipes, 3in blank pipes, a reducer pipe, 2in water guns and 2in blanks (then the end cap). Easy as pie, we'll attach the line up tomorrow. We rolled over to the former arugula field to steal a couple long 3in pipes and T-connectors to attach the cauliflower/broccoli line to the artery. We got everything in place and rolled back downhill, detaching the wagon at the hill-crest. Back at the greenhouse I hooked up the big rotor to the foreman's tractor and hoofed it back to the lettuce field.

Between the heat and humidity and work, I was a blanket of sweat/slop. Newport and Stretch were collapsed in the shade-- I joined them. They'd finished hoeing out all the young lettuce while I was off with the foreman, so only the fertilizing was left. After a good break we got out and spread the mix over all the beds. We staggered back to the farm store like dead men.

The CSA had been going for a good four hours, cars and families were everywhere. We hid in the cooler choking down ice cream cups full of water. The boss found us and shook his head-- small mercies-- he sent us out to pick blueberries by the cow pasture. He even drove us over in the van. The blueberries saved the day-- a cool wind blew over the grass and streams, the big bushes hid us from the sun. For a long time, Stretch, Newport and I picked at some berries while reclining in the bushes' shade. The cow herd was grazing 20ft away, the calves rolled around in the dirt and the muddy stream banks. We got serious and picked a trays worth of berries. One of the cows started howling, Newport and I walked over to check her out. Everything was fine. I made a stupid joke and Newport laughed to be polite-- felt like a moron the rest of the day.

Closing time came and we carried the full tray and berry buckets back to the farm store. The boss waved us home, he called to me-- after a cold 6 pack, you'll be all set for tomorrow.


Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Tomorrow is the hot one, and Jockey's proving day. Well, my uncle is coming tonight for dinner and a few beers. Here's to tomorrow.
Drink up.

Bad Idea

The heat wave is creeping over us. Hot and hazy, sun all day. Temperature hung in the lower 90s.

I left for work very early today-- wasn't gonna get stuck behind again. NYU and the foreman were down in the greenhouse watering-- but I hung around the store waiting for the boss to arrive. Wednesday is picking day. Our crew staggered in and then headed out to cut swiss chard, kale, zucchini, summer/kousa squash and pickling cucumbers-- I had different orders. Other strawberries bloom/fruit in one big push, but the day neutrals draw out their berry bearing over a month-- today was the first day-neutral harvest. The strawberries were left entirely to me. I packed up a bunch of quart containers and headed down to the lower fields. Picking strawberries is quick and easy work-- but given all the waiting and heavy weeding, many berries were molded/damaged needing to be pruned off. The 3 long rows took a few hours and yielded only 10+ quarts. I brought the berries to the farm store and caught up with the boys as they finished cutting the cucumbers in the forest fields.

The string beans have exploded out and desperately needed to be picked-- which happens to be Bah and Old Rudolpho crew's specialty. But first the taylor raspberries needed to be picked-- so our crew marched up the hilltop to give them a hand. We picked straight through until lunch. Before leaving to eat, Newport thought he'd prank the foreman and secretly hung his car keys from a nail at the top of the farm store.


When I got back from lunch I found the foreman preparing to kill Jockey--  assuming he took the car keys. I set the foreman straight and he stomped out for a late lunch. Newport felt pretty bad, but we rounded up the boys and got back to work-- up to finish off the berries. Chatted with NYU as we picked along and over some long hours managed to pick 5 trays worth.

Just before lunch, Newport and I had left the crew-- running off to the lower fields to connect up the corn irrigation line and plug the string bean line, so Bah and Old Rudolpho could stay dry while picking. By the time we returned from the raspberries, the irrigation had been running for a few hours. Next job: The foreman sent us to clean up Big Boy's shoddy weeding job from yesterday in the cantaloupes and squash. The boys got to work while I double checked all the tomato/cantaloupe fields' drip line.

At some point I noticed there was something really wrong with the water gun's jets-- then the water stopped flowing entirely. The foreman and I ran over to the horse pond and saw that the tractor's PTO shaft had stopped turning. We tried shifting its control levers, but no response. The boss and Newport came over and we took the entire dashboard apart. The foreman was miserable, I don't know what else had happened-- but he kept repeating 'today is hell.' Looking around the tractor I noticed a big pool of oil collecting underneath a gearbox-- seems the entire hydraulic system was shot.

Newport and the foreman brought around the new tractor, while me and the boss crept the old tractor out of the way (we couldn't lift the front loader, because of the hydraulic problems, so the forklift attachment was driven straight into the hillside). I took NYU and Stretch out into the tomato field and we moved the water gun line a good 30ft up the field. I hustled back to the horse pond and helped the boss start up the water pump while the foreman and Newport ran out to adjust the corn line.
Success, the water was finally flowing again.

Closing time was slipping up on us, so I watered down the boss's brother's pumpkin and rose garden to keep busy. At the day's end the boss was ecstatic-- the day had gone so well. We were ahead of the picking schedule and the water was running. The foreman looked like a wreck-- said he needed to mainline a couple beers in order to wash off the day. I helped the poor guy check over a few more drip lines, then called it a day.


I am exhausted-- almost fell asleep at the computer.
And tomorrow is the hot day.

Here we go!

Ticked off and Bit

Full sun and a hazy heat all day through. Temperature stuck in the low 90Fs. The boys are talking about the coming 100F weather like a murder sentence.

Pulled in right on time-- but the farm was a ghost town. All the cars were around but none of boys-- the greenhouse  watered. Clearly I'd be in the collective-shithouse for the rest of the day. On a hunch I ran up to the forest field and joined the gang. Everyone was there, like they'd made a secret decision to start the day a half hour early without telling me. The boss was there, Stretch, Newport, NYU and even Big Boy-- all out picking buckets of the summer squash, zucchini and a few kousa squash. I didn't think to bring a knife, so I just stood around carrying buckets like an idiot. Not an ally in sight.

Back at the farm store things evened out a bit. NYU and the boss got ready for the day's market, Newport and the foreman hitched up the new weeder attachment and headed to the pumpkins (Newport was tapped to control the machine). Stretch and Big Boy were entrusted to me. We gathered up some hoes and marched over to the young beds of lettuce out in the lower fields-- weeding was the order. I'm working on Big Boy and he's showing improvement-- but damn you can teach a kid to hoe, but you can't teach someone to give a shit about weeding-- even when he's excited by the idea of farm work. They either suck it up and get things done, or they half-ass through to closing. Even Stretch (who's usually a solid hand) chopped at the dirt like it was a fish on the beach. Once the boss left for market, the foreman shifted us over to readjust the remaining lines in the the trellised tomatoes-- then back to weeding. Half a lettuce row remained at lunch time.


After lunch I drove the boys back to hoeing lettuce-- it really took some pushing. Complaining about a job does nothing, it's better to look forward to another easier job-- so I told Big Boy how great picking blueberries would be. As per the boss's orders, we finished the lettuce and started packing trays in the barn to go pick blueberries. We got our buckets and morale was high as we made our way over the stone-slab bridge and through the blackberry fields. Then the foreman called-- change of plans. Begrudgingly we crossed the town road, dumping our trays and buckets in the blueberries for Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew-- it was more weeding for us.

Back in the greenhouse I once again handed out hoes and we meet the foreman near the tomato fields. The long rows of cantaloupe running parallel to the greenhouse needed a serious clearing-- weeds had grown into 4ft towers along the plastic's edges. The afternoon was getting hot and the boys looked like the foreman shot their dog. But we got to it.

An hour later, we still hadn't finished a single row-- something had to change. I'm much better with my hands than with a hoe, so I put it aside-- getting down and dirty pulling the old fashioned way. I went into a crazy man's mindset and just pulled. I finished both sides of a row in the time it took Stretch and Big Boy to finish one edge. The blueberries were coming I promised them. Things really turned around-- both of 'em put away the hoes and got on their knees to pull too. We had a row and a half left when I broke stride. The cantaloupes are in full bloom and I should have known to be careful-- I had a nasty bumblebee buried into my leg, stabbed clear through my jeans and all. First sting of the season, and honestly my first sting since I was very very young. I found a little shade behind some tall weeds, pulled down my jeans and scraped out the stinger with my pocket knife.

Back pulling, I was a lot more careful but also a lot slower. Finally done. Stretch and Big Boy ran to the kitchen to swipe a cup of ice cream-- I usually avoid that mess, but today I joined 'em. Coming out the farm store's back door, we bumped right into the foreman and Newport-- eyeballing our ice cream. Once again, we had pick buckets hanging from the shoulder-- but the foreman was pissy that we didn't think to weed the second squash planting/unplanted plastic rows by the greenhouse. Of course, we obliged. Stretch and Big Boy took the hoes and I went by hand. Eventually Newport and the foreman came to help out.

Big Boy made the mistake of complaining in front of the foreman, who looked the poor kid in the eye and said-- I've been working this job since before you could wipe your own ass (truth), suck it up. Big Boy certainly shut up. Fortunately, the weeding was finished before anything more. Off to the blueberries.

Newport, learning that Big Boy was a freshman in high school, decided we all needed to get our hazing kicks while the getting was good. Flashback to last year-- all the chewing outs Newport and the foreman gave me. Once we got across to the field, I took Big Boy aside and showed him how the picking is done: only pick all blue and only blue berries, faint reds/purples means its still unripe/tart. We filled up a few buckets over the hour or so until closing. Signed out, went home.

Glad to have the boss back tomorrow, but the heat wave is only building up.
On we go.

Bull, Blueberries and Barred Rocks

Humid as all hell today. Partly sunny and hot all day until just before closing when showers passed through. Temperature kept to the mid 80Fs, but dipped low into the 70Fs with the rain.

It was an easy going weekend with Darlin-- she was a bit under the weather, so we spent a good time laying about in the sun. We took a detour on Saturday out west state for the tri-annual mega market of crap. Hundreds of junk vendors take up a couple miles of road and fields to sell old furniture and 'found' items. On our way to and from we passed through the territory smashed by the tornadoes earlier this spring-- entire forests were leveled. It's one thing to see an aftermath picture of Mount Saint Helen, then another thing to see the equivalent thirty miles from home.


Met up with Stretch and Newport behind the farm store. We lounged about a bit, then got to it. Headed for the lower fields to rearrange the irrigation lines. The foreman was in over the weekend and planted the final round of sweet corn where the peas and fava beans used to be. We ran a line between the new corn and old strawberries-- apparently the boss intends to let these berries remain until next year and squeeze another harvest out of 'em. The first round of sweet corn is looking a bit stressed from lack of water, so we moved the heavy guns along the middle travel road with 3in pipe. The foreman was out with the new tractor in the pumpkins, dragging a plow through the lanes to turn over some weeds. I replaced the artery plugs, then we hustled back to meet the boss at the store.

New orders: pick all the remaining arugula. Usually the boss sharpens up the knives, but today he sent me down to the workshop's grinding wheel. Despite my wording in the past, I've never used a grind wheel for sharpening. Fortunately, I figured how to get the damn thing started and my hazy boyscout-dropout memories were enough to finish the job-- it goes just as you'd imagine: hold the knife at a sensible angle (keeping in mind the direction the wheel spins), then slowly move the edge along. 2 minutes later I had 3 razor edges. Stretch grabbed the elastics, we passed around our knives, grabbed pick crates and hiked the hilltop. 1 hour later we had the entire arugula bed chopped and bunched. Waltzed back down, hosed the catch down and stuffed 'em in the cooler.

Over the weekend the boss acquired a new piece of machinery. As an aside: the boss has a real (talent? or) propensity for getting expensive heavy farm equipment for free/next to nothing. With the general state of small farm agriculture in a seemingly endless decline, many farms are out-of-business or closing up-- which is were the boss comes in. He knows all these farmers pretty well, so they give their old machinery to us. As the boss told me when I first started--  a farm doesn't do a farmer any good if he can't keep it. So we thrive and the others fall by the wayside. Another boss-ism: the only reason my family has managed to keep this place for 300 years is that we changed, constantly. We kept abreast of the technology and continually refined our technique. There has to be something to what he says-- as we're one of the few still buying, not selling it all away. Anyway--

As Newport and I concluded after a quick look over-- this new machinery is built to be broken. It's the strangest automated/manual weeder I've ever seen. The tractor pulls it, the power-shaft hooks up and rotates two downward facing claw arms. Some poor bum sits in a little chair in the back and moves handles controlling the claws, so they can be shifted back and forth to churn up weeds/soil while avoiding the good plants. It seems ingenious enough, but the attachment's wheels aren't even a foot in diameter-- how in hell is that thing gonna be dragged through our soft/rocky soil without killing the operator? I got a bad feeling I'm gonna be in that seat...

After oogling the new hardware we dragged bags of fertilizer out to the far side of the lower fields (on the other side of the sweet corn) to fertilize the pumpkins. We filled up our buckets and spread the Urea (49% nitrogen) with small sized ice cream cups. We finished 8 rows by lunch.


Big news after lunch-- Rosy calfed last night. It's a healthy bull-calf-- but there are complications. Rosy was bottle fed by the boss, because her mother died in the process of birthing. Apparently there isn't a maternal-cow instinct-- it's something they learn from being raised themselves. So far Rosy hasn't showed the least bit of interest in the calf, so the boss's brother has them fenced in together hoping that something will click. It'd be a shame if the bull-calf were to die of neglect, it's a beauty and we sure could use another bull. (There could be bottle feeding in the future.)

We returned to the pumpkin fields and finished the 9 remaining rows. The corn was looking very good-- ears are bulking up quickly. Only another week and some to go before first harvest (right around tomato time). Last year we had corn and tomatoes at this point-- the cold in May really slowed this season. During a run to grab more fertilizer bags Newport brought his car over-- so after finishing the pumpkins he drove us back to the farm. Apparently he's an Al Greene fan.

The boss was out, so we hung around out back. Jockey, Mouse and Rhode Island came by to chat. Rhode Island must have been on the meds-- he was a zombie. Jockey was back from a couple week vacation. The wholesaler truck came by for a pick up-- we let Jockey handle it. The boss returned and we were sent off again, this time to pick a few buckets of string beans to tide over the store until the CSA days.

String beans are a slow pick. The bucket never seems as full as it should be. We finally finished up and carried the load back to the store. New orders and good ones: we packed up some trays with pint containers, grabbed a stack of pick-buckets and hiked across the street to the blueberry fields on the other side of the cow pasture.

The blueberries we picked were from the first field the boss planted when he took over the farm-- they'd grown enormous over the decades. Newport, surprisingly, had never picked berries before-- so he and Stretch ground along at a slow pace. I got into a rhythm and we filled the trays just as the rain started. The foreman came with the tractor and loaded up the berries, but we were stayed picking through the rain until close.


---Chicken Time---
I've been going chicken crazy. Talked to some more owners and been doing a lot of research. Not sure if I'm in the position yet-- I want some acres before taking the big step. Residential-world isn't exactly the sort of place where neighbors mind there own business, letting me and my chickens be. So until land, it's just a dream (then again maybe...). There are a few farmers that write out on the internet that I respect and read regularly-- one in particular, is very dedicated to some interesting farm models. Reading his articles introduced me to Barred Rock Chickens.

From all I've read-- they're exactly the workhorse fowl I'm looking for. The general 'breed' is called Plymouth Rock, but I'm a bit taken by the Barred sub-species (named for their narrow black and white 'barred' feathers). They're a dual-purpose chicken-- good/regular egg-layers and good meat for the pot. They're known to be docile, none of the aggression and aloofness in other breeds-- a well socialized hen doesn't have a problem being picked up, so great around kids. The Barred Rocks are hearty enough to withstand the cold and coincidentally the breed was first established/recognized in the town just over from me. In the 1800s you couldn't find a farm in the country without one of these guys pecking around (so my historical impulses are satisfied), but their popularity has diminished with the rise of big-agro.

But, to quote Hank Hill-- anything worth doing is worth doing right. The Barred Rock breed used to be superbly managed-- with populations specially raised for their task (meat/eggs/dual). Now it's a hodgepodge, but I want them as that solid dual option. These chickens go broody without too much of a hassle-- which means they'll usually incubate their eggs and mother their chicks if you leave the eggs. Some breeds are notoriously difficult to coax broody-- sometimes other breeds are specifically needed to mother difficult chickens' eggs. Not the case with Barred Rocks (or so it seems). What I'm getting at-- 1 chicken quickly becomes 2, then 20. If you already have a few, why not a few more right? No matter how I look at it, I'll end up with a full coop. So I'm digging into the fundamentals of chicken breeding. The last thing I want to do is, after finding a type of bird I like, contribute to the breed's decline through mismanagement. That means, among many other things, selective chicken breeding. But we'll see all that is a long way off.

Oh yeah, here's a picture of 'em.

Darlin and I have been talking over the chicken question for a long time. And she has serious reservations-- which are entirely valid. But compromise is king.
Basic management: You keep the hens as egg layers, and one good rooster (for a small sized set up). Females are encouraged, but more than one male can lead to some violent scuffles for dominance. So you eat the extra roosters.
My compromise (i.e. a work in progress): Darlin can name all the hens whatever she pleases and they have safe status. However, the roosters bound for the oven will be named for reality-tv people to make killing 'em less traumatic. I even planned a little ritual. (I won't get into the details of actual slaughter processes, but I have been looking at many methods and their rationales. There may not be a 'right' way, but there are 'easier' ones.)

I think this can work. I would love to have the Situation for dinner.


Take it easy, the heat is coming.

Tied to the Field

Sun all day through, temperature was somewhere in the upper 70Fs and lower 80Fs.

It was a long day in the day neutral strawberries.
I watered over the greenhouse this morning then got my orders from the boss. Went over the trimmer, fueled up and then walked down to the lower fields. Weeds have invaded the late summer strawberries-- weeds in the aisle, weeds along the plastic edges and weeds up against the plants. Usually Bah is the only one trusted with the delicate trimmer weeding, so this was a proving job for me. Had to be real careful: can't hit the plastic wrap, the strawberries or the plant itself. Trimmed non-stop (except to refuel) through till lunch.


After lunch it was back with the trimmer. I'd finished the main aisles in the morning, so it was time to clear the edges. When replacing the plastic string the whole front end fell to pieces-- cleaned everything over and slowly managed to reassemble the front mechanisms. Back to stringing. Newport came over and started the fine hand weeding immediately around the strawberry plants. Finally finished with the trimmer.

While dumping the 'string-machine' back at the greenhouse I bumped into the boss. Gave him a hand repairing one of the hood sprayers. They allow for precision herbicide applications (spraying the aisle weeds without getting any poison contacting the crops). The plastic hood was shattered at its top connection-- we built a steel plate, bashed the plastic back into place with an iron pipe and bolted everything together. The boss and I hung the hoods from the old tractor's forklift attachment, then it was back to the strawberries.

Joined up with Newport and we weeded the long slow way down the row. We saw the rest of the boys running around picking and transplanting. I was a bit jealous, wishing they'd come and lend a hand-- Newport didn't care what they did. We inched along and finished just after closing.


Got the paycheck and happy to be home. Darlin is coming in tonight and I am long due for some sitting down.
Take it easy.

Revelations in the Raspberries

Today's weather was as near perfect as it gets. Full sun all day, temperature hovered in the upper 60Fs and lower 70Fs. It felt like September.

Spent the morning with NYU and Stretch. We got Rhode Island all set up for market-- Newport was tied to the sink washing/ soaking case after case of greens. Watered up the greenhouse, then we headed up to the field of Taylor raspberries on the far slop of the hilltop. We picked along until lunch. NYU and I worked either side of the same row and chatted the whole way through-- we talked religion, politics, farms and books. He shared a mind-blowing tidbit the boss shared with him yesterday at market-- all I can say is that I'm glad the farm's future is gonna be in good hands. If all this talk actually goes through-- I definitely want to stick around, help out and see what I can learn. I thought about it all while plopping berries into the bucket-- I'm almost surprised that I haven't got a shred of jealousy. But truth is, I've learned my limits and right now (at least) managing a farm is beyond me. The future needs rock solid field hands, so rock solid I'll be.

Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew came to help on the berries and together we got 8 trays picked before lunch (6 trays of pints, 2 trays of half pints). We loaded them up in the boss's rental van and hiked back for lunch.


After lunch NYU, Stretch and I wandered back to the raspberries to finish off a few rows. The weather had us in wild spirits, Stretch has really broken from his shell and we laughed like maniacs as we walked-- dreaming up all varieties of towering bullshit. It was a good day to be in this field, on this farm, at this time. I don't think the world has known happier men.

We picked 2 more trays before the rows were spent. Peering over the plants, new berries seemed to have ripened just over the course of a few hours work. We ate them for spite.

Back at the farm store, even the boss seemed to have caught the spirit of the day. He laughed his low laugh and hummed our new orders-- up with buckets to the forest field to pick squash and zucchini. We ran the whole way through the tomato fields, over the log bridge and under the old trees of the woods. Yesterday was a thorough day, so not much remained for us. We filled a third of a bucket of zucchini and a half bucket of summer squash. We jostled our way back and presented the catch for Easy and the CSA members to see (apparently unimpressed, they went about their business). Today was Easy's first day back on after a 2 week vacation-- he was a bit sullen, stuck in the shady store while we had the sun and fields. Newport finally finished washing everything in the cooler and joined us by the greenhouse.

I gave all the seedlings a second watering and hooked up the plant wagon to the old tractor. NYU passed out the trowels and dibbles, then we hopped aboard as the boss took the tractor up the hilltop. I really appreciate having Newport around-- I can discipline myself, but I'm no good at driving others: he took care of all that. The foreman marked out 3 long rows on the hilltop and we got to transplanting. Broccoli, Cabbage and a mystery plant (even the boss couldn't remember what was in the 2 trays) were sunk into ground. We worked at a hard clip right past closing. 1 and 1/3 of the rows are finished-- the rest are tomorrow's problem.

Before leaving I chatted with Viking in between her customers. A little ways back my mother had given Viking a mess of plant pots, so my friend was looking to return the favor in some small way. All week Viking marked the hot days she was happy not to be in the field-- but today she had the work itch so bad that she'd nearly snuck out with Bah and Old Rudolpho. Signed out and took my leave.

If everyday were like today, I would work everyday of my life.

Darlin is due to arrive tomorrow night-- come on friday!
Take it easy.

Picket

Hot and humid morning burned into a hot dry afternoon-- scattered showers cleared the heat just before close. Temperature dived from 89F into the upper 60Fs.

Newport was down watering the greenhouse, so I gathered up the knives and got 'em sharp. Today was the big push before CSA pick up days are back and the Thursday/Friday markets-- good thing we had full ranks. Stretch, Rhode Island, NYU, Newport and I packed the wagon full of cardboard boxes. We handed out knives and rubber bands, then climbed aboard for the boss to drive us up to the hilltop fields.

First were 3 beds of spinach and the remaining bok choi. The beds were overgrown with weeds, making the cutting and bunching much slower than it needed to be. The boss hung around and lended a hand-- the bok choi took 10 minutes flat. The foreman was planning to harrow under all of the greens field after lunch (except for the arugula), so all the spinach needed to be cut. We filled 12 cardboard boxes (25-40 bunches each). Note-- the beets up here are inching along, but swallowed over in weeds. The boss decided the heavy weeding required just isn't worth it-- so they'll be harrowed under and replanted from scratch. Finished a few minutes after noon, piled up the wagon and rode back to the store. Hosed down, set in the boxes in the cooler and off to lunch.


After lunch the picking super crew continued. We headed down to the lower fields and picked 9 cardboard boxes of swiss chard (15-25 bunches each). A lot was left to sit in the field as the demand has declined with all the new veggies coming out. The chard plants have finally bulked up-- solid roots and stalk. Just last week you still had to be careful when pulling leaves, so you didn't accidentally bring the entire plant out of the soil-- that's no longer a problem. Not much call for kale-- but we pulled 2 full boxes worth (35-40 bunches each). Only pulled the Dinosaur kale, as the Red Boar hasn't developed enough new leaves since last week's picking.

We refilled water and hustled up to the forest fields to meet the boss.  This is the first week of basil. We cut our way down nearly the entire long double row. Cutting basil is easy-- just be sure to leave enough of the plant behind to recover and regrow itself (that means leaving 6inches of stem and a good plenty of leaves for the photosynthesis). It's amazing sometimes how uniformly plants can grow. Despite the chaos of stems, branchings and leaves-- every basil plant forks off at the bottom the same way (main upward stem, then two off shoots: like a three pronged fork). I cut the main stem right above the 'prong' split. Fat heavy raindrops trickled down as we cut the last basil. We got 11 1/2 boxes (25-50 bunches per box).

We had several buckets in the wagon so we ran over and got on the squash. The summer squash was looking pretty good sized at 8-11inches long. The zucchini were monsters-- one or two were nearly the size of my forearm! We left a lot of the smaller squash to grow bigger-- but still filled up 3 buckets worth. Newport and I handled the zucchini-- over the winter I forgot about the fine razor hairs that cover its stems and leaves. They stab and catch into you while rummaging through for the zucchini-- we were scrapping our arms down with the knife blades trying to get all the stingers out. We finished up and the wagon was piled high. The day was getting late-- Stretch rode out with the boss to pick up Bah/Old Rudolpho crew's day worth of string bean pickings. The rest of us hiked down to the trellised tomatoes to join the foreman in readjusting the lines.

On the walk down Newport was up to no good. There is a mile wide gap between him and the rest of our crew. I like the summer boys, but they will leave in another month or so-- Newport and I are here to until the season's end. So I can't really choose sides-- but sometimes its damn hard to maintain my place as the man apart.

We spent the rest of the day wrapping the trellised tomatoes' new growths around the lines and plucked the 'sucker' stems. As the foreman explained-- sucker stems pop up where the main stem and branches meet, if they aren't picked they grow parallel to the main stem and can divert a lot of the plant's energy. Right now we have to encourage the main stem's upward growth, once it reaches the top guide wire we'll allow the outward growths. Closing came long before we finished the tomatoes (Stretch and the boss dealt with the remaining hosing/chilling of the afternoon's picking)-- we packed up and went homeward.

It's raining heavy now, we'll see what that means tomorrow.
CSA cometh.

The Return of Newport and then the Veggies

No clouds, just sun. A hazy heat-- temperature stuck at 94F all day.

The foreman's friend, Newport, is finally back. Working with the two of 'em last year was tough-- they laid into me hard. But ever since I graduated into an 'old hand' we're thick as thieves. Newport is a fast talker-- the sort of guy whose sarcasm and fast wit make him impossible to read. He'll bullshit and chew the high school kids to bits with a mock-grin, then look me in the eye and say he's been chomping at the bit all spring to get back to the farm and put on a good sweat. And I gotta hand it to him, he's unstoppable with a hoe (or without one)-- the way he works is worth 3-4 of the summer help. So all morning he griped over the boss-- how could he hire a new guy and all the summer kids without bring him on first? --July is a late of a start.

NYU got the van all packed up then he and the boss took off for the big money market. I got out the trimmer, cleaned it over and mixed up the gasoline/oil (its a two-stroke engine). Big Boy, the new kid, followed Stretch and me up to the forest fields-- we reconnected the artery and laid a line of water guns between the basil and 2 new beds of beets the foreman planted. We headed down to the lower fields and connected up a line through the lettuce/through the mowed down strawberries, then double checked the drip line connections. I sent Big Boys and Stretch back to the forest field to get a start on weeding the summer squash and zucchini. The surviving squash/zucchini have grown enormous and some are already big enough to pick-- maybe even later this week.

I ran over to the horse pond and helped Newport/the foreman start up the water pump (the old tractor doesn't have a functioning fuel gauge, so we check the diesel level by popping off the gas cap and dropping in a long stick). The suction wasn't holding at first, so we jabbed the pump gasket with the fuel stick a few times. Started without a problem. The foreman and Newport headed off to the lower fields to check the water guns, while I dealt with the forest lines.

Irrigation was running A+. I picked up the trimmer from the farm store then headed back to the forest fields. Newport was up giving Stretch and Big Boy a hand on the weeding, so things were looking pretty good. I fired up the trimmer and sawed down the weeds/grass encroaching on the ends of each long row. At the side of the forest field are a few pine trees amid a meadow that creeps up the hill and down to some far off houses. The meadow's grasses and wild mustard weeds have begun to climb into the walking paths--inching toward the squash. So I got the string spinning and fought it back into place. Big Boy was melting in the heat, but Stretch and Newport kept on like leather men. Lunch came quickly.


After lunch Viking lined us all up for some administrating, we all filled out our work/tax papers in the air conditioned kitchen. We grabbed hoes and headed back up to the forest fields with some tall orders-- weed around the plants and along the plastic edges of the remaining squash, then the cucumbers and eggplants. So we got to it. A few hours in the foreman came up with the tractor to lay plastic. Big Boy and I helped him out, but the spool of plastic wrap ended just shy of 1 row-- so that was that.

The foreman came back a few hours later and we all took a long break in the shade. Big Boy and Stretch went on a water refill run, so the foreman, Newport and I had a few cigarettes and joked around. Break over-- the foreman brought out a big bag of urea: a pure nitrogen fertilizer. We poured it into a bucket and he gave me very careful instructions-- this stuff is potent. I peppered the pellets lightly, 1 foot around each cucumber plant-- but carefully, as a pellet can burn/kill a plant if it comes in direct contact with the stem or leaves. I started spreading without gloves, but the foreman brought me a plastic bag he found by the road side to wrap my hand. I inched my way down the two rows of cucumbers at a snail pace.

I finished a few minutes before closing time, right as the boys finished one of the eggplant rows (1 1/2 remaining). Newport decided the day was done and we all hiked back. I watered up the wagon load of seedlings, then headed out.


On the way home I stopped at a new beer store that's been growing on me. Talked a long time with the owner about his chickens. He currently has 9 hens who lay an egg about every 28hrs-- so usually 7 or so eggs a day. He has never had much trouble with foxes or fisher cats, but as he said-- the biggest problem is in the winter, with all the leaves fallen from the trees my chickens are completely exposed, i've probably lost 20 chickens in the past 10 years to the hawks, they just swoop down and that's the end of it.


State of the plants:
Corn-- grown a foot a week, now they've reached +6ft and begun sexing. The male tassels have completely emerged and the female silk has developed a light reddish brown color. (I'm only talking about the early planting, the late summer/fall fields have a long way to go) Just a matter of time now.

Summer Squash/Zucchini-- I'd lost track of these rows since the vermin incidents, but they've grown up to 3ft tall and maybe 4ft wide. Their meaty orange/yellow flowers are in full bloom, but many have progressed to fruit. I saw a good many foot long zucchinis ready to pick today. The summer squash is right in step, but their fruit needs a little more time to develop.

String beans-- Well weeded and ready to go. The plants are heavy with beans-- picking begins tomorrow (?).

Tomatoes-- They are really cooking, the plants are full bushes now. Every plant has a good couple dozen green tomatoes inching through their green. I'd wager another 1-3 weeks. The trellised cherries have wrapped their way up another foot and a half-- Bah and Rudolpho's crew pruned them back and adjusted the lines last week. The bunches of cherry tomatoes are looking good.

Potatoes-- the boss pulled a few on Monday to check their progress-- they've grown from the size of the little finger's nail into door knobs. I don't know what the boss's plans are-- maybe in a few weeks we'll start to pull a few bushels worth as the rest grow to full size. Then again, we might just wait for August.

Basil-- Has hit full size, some have even begun to flower (which needs to be fixed, i.e. snipped off). If the boss is on his game maybe we'll trim a few dozen bushels for this week's CSA.

Eggplant-- Still has a ways to go. 1-2 feet tall, definitely not strong enough to even carry their fruits' weight.

Peppers-- The plants are a bit over 2 feet tall now and have grown many different layers of leaves. Marching between rows while weeding, I noticed a good number of little green peppers (maybe 1-3 inches long).

Cucumbers-- The plants are looking a lot more healthy-- their runner vines have begun to creep out over the plastic wrap. Still, only a few blossoms have flowered out. A while yet to go.

Cantaloupe-- The plants themselves are getting enormous, spreading vines out in all directions. Spotted a good number of flowers in bloom.

Pumpkins-- Just getting established, its a long time until October.

Lettuce-- We are in a bit of a fix this week, stuck between fields. I doubt the next round will be big enough for CSA this week-- but I've been wrong before. The following round is hardly visible from a distance-- the seedlings are still getting acclimated to the field. There is still some romaine left in the previous round-- mangy looking and not nearly enough to meet CSA demands.

Arugula-- All chopped last week, but we were careful to leave a good 2 inches of stem and ground leaves so they will grow out for another round. The boss is enamored with the stuff. High demand, easy to grow, 2 crops, cheap seeds and sell for a great price. I bet that even after the hilltop rows run dry, we'll plant/cut many more rows before the season is over.

Beets-- Some of the mid-spring rows are getting fat-- their leaves finally bulking up. With the recent heat the new beets are coming at a much faster pace. I haven't pulled any test beets, so for all I know we could have some bushels this week at CSA.

Spinach-- This year hasn't been kind to our spinach. It's grown slim and slowly. The rows on the hilltop have been the only full success so far.

Bok Choi-- Now that the 'interesting' summer berries and veggies are coming out the demand for choi has dipped. After Stretch and I cut the most of the 3 rows last week-- nothing new has been planted (to my knowledge). There might be enough still to cover one CSA week.

Broccoli Rabe-- Same as choi, except even less demand.

Broccoli/Cauliflower-- No idea. Since the raspberries hit it is as though everyone forgot about 'em. Although, after the vermin ravaged the field things were looking very bleak. We have 5-6 trays (each) of cauliflower/brussel sprouts growing out on the wagon. 15 trays of broccoli are inching along, still in the greenhouse. We have 6-8 trays of cabbage that look fantastic (it doesn't get its own little section as no one but me seems to care about cabbage).

I posted pictures of the berries on the last picture day-- so just imagine more berries with deeper colors. The strawberries (except for the day neurtals, which haven't started yet) are done. The blueberries have begun-- big and blue. Strangely, none have been picked yet-- just too much needs to be done.

I'm forgetting a lot here-- maybe another picture day is necessary.
Darlin' is coming up to visit this weekend-- pictures might be part of the festivities.

Here's hoping for more hot growing days.
Take it easy.

Reverse

Not a cloud in the sky. Temperature danced between 88-91F.

Hard morning to wake up-- a good buddy of mine came to visit last night and we slugged through all of our old cheapo bars ($1 beers is a beautiful thing). My friend has joined up with a traveling theater troop for the spring/summer-- but once he gets back we'll see if he can lend a hand with the fall harvest. I'm gonna have to type today out fast-- me and the good buddy are going for a one night road trip out to hear our mutual friend ("Pipes") sing. She can really belt a tune, that's a fact. Unfortunately she lives far across state, so its a drive (a very long drive after a few beers).

(Also, I flaked out on Saturday. Waking up-- the body just wasn't willing. Sometimes ya just gotta take a break.)


Watered up the greenhouse first thing. The boss drove the tractor around and dropped off the wagon-- it's getting too hot beneath the plastic for the seedlings, so Stretch and I carried all the biggish trays out of the greenhouse and set them on the wagon to air out. The boss was gonna be busy running around with the crew so he gave me a list of things to get done. 1-- I took the trimmer and hacked down the tall weeds growing at the ends of every tomato row, then mowed all the weeds/field grown up around and burying the irrigation artery. 2-- Set end plugs into all the drip lines going through the tomato fields. 3-- Aligned the head-line for the tomatoes' drip, stuffed in the nozzles for the lines to attach and plugged up the damaged parts.

Right before lunch Rhode Island got himself into a world of trouble. The wholesaler had arrived for a produce pick-up, but the van was in the way. So Rhode Island went to move it. Apparently he isn't very good at driving-- somehow he managed to roll down the hill towards the greenhouse (front-ways first), but with the van shifted into reverse. Needless to say, the van can no longer go in reverse anymore. The van is old, but the boss was still ready to kill him. Then off to lunch.


After lunch I met Stretch and Mouse in the store to watch the Blackberry-Man. I've heard a lot about him-- he calls the farm incessantly to check on the blackberries. Also, he's always sure to ask if he can sleep in the field so he can be with the berries. The boss always says no (though I wonder if he let the guy try it once or twice in the past). Blackberry-Man has longish grey hair and a grey beard. He stripped down to his shorts in the gravel parking lot and took out his special berry basket. Rhode Island has long since lost patience with the man. The boss told me-- Blackberry-Man is homeless, but is looked after occasionally by his kids. Stretch and Mouse said that the man is a local celebrity in town-- the story goes: he made a fortune (millions on millions of dollars), but grew sick of himself. Once his kids moved out, he sold his house and lived on the streets ever since-- owning nothing more than the clothes on his back. Whatever the truth may be, he really loves our blackberries (maybe to the point of concern).

Blackberry-Man went on his way, Stretch and I did the same. We grabbed our hoes and headed down to the lower fields to get weeding the string-bean rows. The string beans are out, long and ready to be picked-- the boss plans to get Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew started on them tomorrow. The peas have run dry, no more for now-- so the foreman has been busy. He rotor-ed down all the pea rows (he accidentally killed all the fava beans too, despite them having a few good weeks left), and mowed down all the strawberries planted last year (who've stopped producing for the season). We weeded away the rest of the day.

An hour before closing the foreman called me out of the fields. Over the weekend the boss had several pieces of the water pump welded and had the water gate leading to the forest field professionally fixed. So the two of us put everything back in order-- we muscled and reattached the water gate, the reassembled the water pump and replaced its faulty gasket. In thanks, the foreman came out and helped us finished weeding the beans.

At closing time I watered up all the seedlings on the wagon and picked up some eggs for home. Waved good-bye to Blackberry-Man (who was still out there) and then headed out.


Well it's about time for me to get on the road. I've been bottling up weeks worth of plant talk, so be forewarned-- tomorrow might be a plant-geek spill over day.

On to Pipes.

The Women of Guatemala

Heavy thunderstorms woke me early this morning. Rained until noon-- then a heavy heat sunk in. It actually dried up for a few hours until the monsoon rains swept up from the southwest. Temperature was in the upper 60Fs with the rain-- during the dry spell it rose to 82F.

No time for the greenhouse this morning, jogged out and over to hitch a wagon full of pipes up with the boss's tractor. NYU and Stretch hopped into the van and I drove us up to the hilltop to meet the boss. We hid from the rain in the van until the tractor made it up the hill. We unloaded/organized the pipes in the meadow where the foreman mowed over some turkey nests. The boss took the empty wagon back down to the greenhouse to get started on the real work-- we followed in the van.

Today's rain caught the boss off guard. None of the weather services predicted anything of this sort until it was already pouring. There isn't much you can pick in the rain-- wet berries mold like lightning once separated from the plant, and everything else goes much slower to the point its just not worth picking. But so long as the soil isn't flooded (it wasn't), rain is the perfect time to transplant as the sun wont dry out the delicate plants' roots. So we started loading up the wagon with the late summer/fall tomatoes with Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew. Put up the Rose, Purple Cherokees, Moskvich, Purple Prudence, Striped German, Red Pear and a few others I've forgotten. We left the Sugar Gold cherries in the greenhouse-- the boss wants to set up some proper rows for them.

Our super crew (Bah, Old Rudolpho, Daughter-in-law #1, Daughter-in-law #2, Stretch, NYU and myself) marched up the hill to the empty section beside the late season corn recently planted. The foreman quickly drove out a travel lane with the old tractor, then lowered a trenching tool he'd hitched up to drag out 10 tomato rows. With the surprise weather we didn't have the opportunity to wrap the fields in plastic or anything, but the boss didn't seem concerned. Sometimes you just got to do what the weather says, whether you're ready or not.

We planted in the mud and rain. We spaced the plants 2ft apart, along the foreman's trenches. The daughter-in-laws are extremely wary of us-- they speak a small bit of english (only with the boss), but keep to spanish otherwise. They're heavy set women-- dressed in jean pants and jean jackets, with their hair up in red bandannas or tucked under straw conical hats (like Bah's). They talk very loud and constantly, shooting the breeze and arguing-- occasionally Old Rudolpho drawls in a sentence or a short story. Except when one of my idiot boys (or me) come around. Then the daughter-in-laws stop talking and stare them down. Our crew hasn't worked with them much this season.

As we progressed down the field, things got a little difficult-- NYU grilled the women over their tomato placement/spacing/how many plants left in their trays. Rather than him fixing anything, the crew (Bah, Old Rudolpho and the daughter-in-laws) started getting really confused. Confused means slow-- and it was raining too hard for slow. So I went to the wagon and bunched up all the tomatoes in their planting order, cut a length of rope to the proper plant spacing, took my trowel-- then settled the matter myself. I got out in front of the crew and started digging. Figured they could deal with taking the plants from the trays and planting them in the holes I made. I worked at a lunatic's pace-- measure, dig, measure, dig. All the way down the line as they followed in with the plants behind. Things started moving much faster. The daughter-in-laws must have found me hilarious, as they laughed their heads off and called after me-- como gato (or something similar).

We planted through 8 long rows quick. By lunch time all but 2 tomato varieties were in the ground. Bah called the time, and we all sloshed down the hill.


Over lunch the boss took NYU home to change out of his mud-soaked clothes so he could run the CSA clean and comfortable. The Bah and Old Rudolpho's gang headed up hill to finish off the tomato planting. Stretch and I seeded 4 of the unplanted plastic wrapped rows by the greenhouse with squash (2 rows summer squash, 2 rows zucchini). We finished the summer squash rows fine, but we ran out of seeds (eventually there will be 5 rows of zucchini planted here). The rain had died down over lunch, so things were getting a bit dryer as we helped NYU set up for the CSA. Today we had: last strawberries, raspberries, romaine lettuce, rabe, chard, red boar and dinosaur kale, snap peas, sweet shelling peas, zucchini (from friend's farm), bok choi, spinach (also from friend's farm) and arugula.

Things got dry enough that the boss sent me and Stretch up to pick the first raspberries from the rows at the far slope of the hilltop (where NYU and I spent a long time weeding/pounding trellises/tying wire). The boss came with us to sample the berries-- every one of the 6 raspberry fields are different varieties, but the the berries in this field are the boss's favorite. They have a much sweeter/stronger taste. (We do the different raspberry varieties as a means of balancing the risks of growing/pests/weather on the berry crop.) The rows were as red as they were green-- the wires were bent beneath the berries' weight. Stretch and I picked along for a while before Bah, Old Rudolpho and company came to join us. The picking was fast and easy, we filled several trays quickly.

As we worked the southern skies started to turn real dark. I called up the boss to give him fair warning-- I've already mentioned how bad water is for fresh picked berries. We picked faster and faster-- it was a shame to leave these raspberries to the weather. Some were so big, ripe and swollen that they'd nearly popped themselves from their stems. When the rain hit, it built up real quick. I ran down the row and threw my rain slick over the tower of full berry trays. In a miracle of timing, the boss roared up in the van seconds before the deluge. We stowed the berries just in time. Stretch and I laid down in the back of the van with the berries, and watched the wall of rain through the open sliding door as the boss drove us back. The crew decided to walk back to the farm store on their own.

We hurried the berries onto a couple shelves in the cooler. Stretch and I set up the market tent over the sink to wash up/bundle a bunch of carrots and beets for the farm store (once again, produce from a friend's farm). Finished up quickly, but closing time was near. The boss told us to sign out for a full day's work and go home.



Before going home I sat down to talk to the boss. Since I'm not going to the city this weekend, I figured that I might as well work. So I asked about coming in tomorrow. He needs me in the morning to help set up the early day CSA pick up. I'm pretty exhausted and I don't think he expects me to show-- all the same, I'll be there tomorrow. Just a sucker for punishment I guess.

So there maybe a farm post for tomorrow too.

Take it easy.

Get Up Jake

Full sun. Temperature in the 90Fs.

Right to it. No need for irrigation today after the rains last night. Helped Rhode Island and NYU pack up the van to take the boss's daughter to market-- then we got new marching orders.

The boss sent me and Stretch across the lower fields to join Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew. We picked raspberries straight through till lunch.


After lunch I headed down to check on the greenhouse. I've been wary of over-watering the seedlings-- some have been looking a tad weak. Talking to the foreman, we realized that I've been forgetting to spray liquid fertilizer (needs to be done once a week or so). Filled up the attachment and sprayed down all the plants strong enough to handle the dose-- then heavily watered all the trays to help the fertilizer really seep in. We were running low on spinach this week, so I helped the boys bunch up a dozen crates worth ordered from the boss's friend. NYU was CSA king again, so we helped him put the produce wagons in order.

Stretch and I were sent off to help Bah finish the raspberry rows from the morning. A few hours of picking later-- we sifted the berries into the pint containers with Old Rudolpho's daughter-in-laws. Headed back to the farm store and gave NYU a hand keeping up with the CSA. The boss took me and Stretch up to the hilltop fields for some more veggie cutting-- rest of the arugula/bok choi/rabe. We sliced along the rest of the day-- finishing right before close.

The boss picked us up and handed us our paychecks-- I got a raise! A shipment of new cardboard boxes arrived, so I dragged the box bundles into the barn while Stretch washed and packed our catch into the cooler. Another day done.


I've hit a strange funk posting today. I think its from writing about all the past weeks worth of messing around with the boys-- some things that happen in the fields might do well to stay there. A person will do/say anything to break up several hours worth of staring at dirt, a knife and their own hands. I dunno, maybe farms aren't as sanitized as they appear in the seed catalogs. Things happen, then I write whatever it was down. I need a brain cleanse-- on with the weekend already.
But all the same,


See ya tomorrow.

Geysers

Today was the hottest so far, made 95F this morning then stayed at 92F. Full sun all day, thick humidity boiled off by noon.

Time stood still today, maybe it was just the heat.

Got to the greenhouse a few minutes early and watered up the sprouts. I joined the boys behind the store-- Rhode Island, NYU and Stretch were greasing up with sun lotion and getting their water filled. We got moving and helped the foreman lay out the head-line (which connect the individual drip lines to the irrigation artery) along the cantaloupe rows. Mid-way through plugging in the water nozzles (allowing individual lines to be started/stopped), the boss called our crew over and we headed for the forest field-- grabbing a few hand-hoes and a box of stakes.

Up in the forest field we finished off yesterday's weeding and reinforced the plastic wrap along the cucumber rows. Connecting a few pipes over from the forest artery, we laid a line of water guns along the basil/peppers and several new rows of something or other the foreman planted. Our crew hustled back to the farm store and helped the boss pile the tractor wagon high with pick crates. We handed out the knives and the boys squeezed onto the wagon-- I took the van with Lucy down to the lower fields to meet them. Lettuce was the order, all of it. We cut 28 crates worth of romaine (about 450 heads). Had a few laughs as we cut along. At some point the foreman got the irrigation pumping water through the cantaloupe drips, tomato and forest fields. Once finished we took the wagon load back for a hose down and chilling. On account of the heat the boss gave us an early and long lunch.


The long lunch wasn't meant to be. After a quick pizza trip, I walked from the car to find some shade for a cigarette-- when the foreman waved me over into the road.


The boss had returned along the town road from the hilltop. At some point while turning up to the farm store a young girl plowed into him. We found them in the center of the town road-- her sedan was totaled, looked like the engine was wedged up into the passenger seat. The car hood was crumpled into the windshield. The van might have had a slight dent to its rear bumper. The foreman and I ran over, relieved to see both the girl and the boss walk out.

The boss was perfectly fine and, bizarrely, happy as hell. He rattled off a list of things needing to be done as though nothing had happened-- then turned to call the police/ chat with the girl. So we shrugged and got to it. The foreman ran off to his tasks, and I called the boys to the back of the farm store. I told them what happened then got them packing bushel crates full of the peas Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew had picked. I grabbed up a 10 gallon can of diesel and funnel, then waddled down to the horse pond. I hefted up the can, plugged in the funnel and refueled the old tractor (which was powering the water pump). The boss called me on the cell phone-- he was going to be a few more minutes sorting out insurance information, so I needed to move the irrigation down the tomato field.

I waved the boys over and we huffed out to the field. I spun the iron wheel closing the water gate leading to the tomatoes. We needed to be quick. NYU doesn't like being ordered about, so he grew pissy real quick as I shouted at him and Rhode Island to move their molasses asses. Stretch and I jammed in the 4in pipes extending the artery mid-field, then plugged home the T-pipe/reducers leading down to the 2in water gun pipes. I was afraid that with the tomato water gate closed water pressure would build in the arteries and cause a catastrophe pipe blow out. We stuffed the pipes into place and opened the gate-- when the boss walked over. It was picking time. The boys went to get prepped, but I hung back-- things didn't look right along the tomato water lines.

I jumped the tomato plants and walked the water line-- then saw the break. In their piss-fest Rhode Island and NYU hadn't connected the lines properly. I tried to kick the pipe connected back against its gasket, but things got real messy-- the pipes shot loose, pouring water into the tomato rows. In a quick sprint, I ran, closed the water gate, rammed the pipe connections back into place, double checked/ adjusted the pipes, ran and opened the gate. Better, but still wrong. The foreman was taking a breather behind the store so I went to him. He gave me two wrenches (1/2in and 1in), a length of wire. We scanned the water lines and talked about everything that could be wrong. The foreman is, in his strange way, one of my biggest working advocates. If there's a problem he is familiar with he usually talks me through it, then sends me to figure out the rest on my own. So he wished me good luck and returned to airing out his soaked boots and clothes.

Something was fishy with a water gun at the far end of the line. I unscrewed the nozzle, but the water only trickled out despite all the other guns pumping at full force. It was time for a mess and wrenches. I walked a good distance away-- took off my shirt and emptied my pockets into it (phone, knife, cigarettes, lighter, keys). Rolled up my pants and tied the boots tighter-- it was wrenching time. Back at the busted water gun, I got the one inch and started laying into the water gun's bolt. It was hard going, and I soon found out why. Good thing I had a hard grip on the water gun, as soon as I gave the final twist-- water blew out of the pipe stem with the force of a fire hose, shooting straight up in a 25ft geyser. The water came back down hard as I jammed the wire into the gun's end-- something was stuck alright. I pushed and smashed the wire through with a rock, until a biggish rock and some hard nut shells fell loose-- the easy part was over.

The foreman said that it's possible (with a strong steady hand) to force the gun back onto the pipe stem despite the water flow. So I tried force.  Imagine attaching a sprinkler head to a fire hose. Water blew everywhere. I was drenched in seconds. I wrestled with the water gun for one very long minute. The pressure suddenly kicked down, I looked up to see the foreman wave as he spun the water gate closed-- all I needed. I pushed that gun into place and muscled that one inch wrench like a lunatic. Safe. I cleared out as the foreman spun the gate back open-- problem solved.

I laughed my way back to the farm store with the foreman. Over a well earned cigarette, the foreman told me he'd completely underestimated the water pressure today. From across the field he was watching me, but the moment I wrenched off the gun he thought-- shit, no way in hell that's going back on. He told me I'd better go check the forest field lines-- with all the fluctuations in water pressure, another blowout was entirely possible. Viking gave me a plastic bag to wrap up my pocket stuff, then I hoofed it across the tomato fields.

A few water guns were clogged, but the wire fixed them quick. I took another long cigarette at the wood's edge then ran off to join the boys in the lower fields.

Maybe it was the heat ( or jealousy of my water shower), but the boys met me cold and silent. Out mid-field, they were picking kale-- NYU told me they watched the geyser from the other end of the field. The boss had been with them, and kept saying-- why didn't he turn off the goddamn water, too busy to cut the goddamned water? In retrospect, yes that could have been a good idea. But as the foreman told me-- a blow out was only a minute away with today's heavy water pressure.

The boys eased off soon enough-- the foreman joined us, bringing music. We picked all the kale (both varieties, Red Boar and Dinosaur), filling 8 big cardboard boxes (30-40 bunches) of each. Next was the swiss chard. We picked the whole field's worth-- filling 6 big boxes. Rhode Island had taken his attention medicine after lunch and was a zombie-- he hardly talked except to apologize for past indiscretions/life mistakes. He spent a long time staring off at the woods  With the field cleared, we piled the full boxes onto the wagon and jumped aboard. The foreman took us around to fetch up a bunch of peas Bah and Old Rudolpho's family picked. We loaded the buckets and rolled back to the farm store.

On the ride, NYU wondered pointedly-- how did you start in March, it must have been an icy hell every day. A very distant memory these days. At the store we hosed and packed the kale and chard into the cooler. We descended on Viking, chatting like madmen. She lined us all up and put some sort of vitamin supplement into our hands. We popped 'em without a second thought. The boss was ready and herded us up. We packed the van full of boxes and knives-- Rhode Island took the passenger seat (staring ahead with a look of disbelief)-- Stretch, NYU and I stuffed ourselves in with the boxes. The heat must have driven us mad-- we joked, shouted startling new obscenities and rolled laughing in the boxes. The boss laughed right on with us-- we pulled onto the town road and drove the long way up to the hilltop fields.

We clamored out of the van hooting and hollering, knives in hand. Rhode Island never lost his middle-distance stare. The boss joined us as we hacked through several boxes worth of arugula. We argued with the boss, trying to convince him into producing a cheap farm brand malt-liquor-- he was skeptical, how would he make a profit?-- his field hands would drink it all. Many heated arguments erupted over brands of beer and whiskey. Next we turned to the bok choi. The boss left to check on the potato and corn fields.  I was getting a bit concerned about Rhode Island-- it was hard to tell whether his depression was heat stroke or a side effect of the medicine. He refused any and all water-- it was too warm. Our madness was spent and the boss called it a day. We loaded up the van and piled in.

We washed up the choi and arugula, then stuffed it into the already full cooler. The boys called it a day. I watered down the greenhouse, chatted with Viking and the foreman, and then I left.


The summer is full of strange days. A surprise thunderstorm is blowing over. It turned the sky black. Here with a beer on the porch, smoking-- catch you tomorrow.