Full sun all day through and hardly a cloud in the sky. Cool breezes blew through the forest fields. Temperature moved between the mid 60Fs and lower 70Fs.
CSA, a market and a picking day. I headed down to the barn this morning and combed over the tomato trays-- either the barn cats are slacking off or they've developed a taste for tomatoes. Big bites through several striped german and rose. I squared away the store and CSA with tomatoes-- then off to business. Gizzie was watching the store today/packing up the market van. Newport, the foreman and I headed over to the big tomato field to join Old Rudolpho/his nephew. Picking the entire field is only going faster and faster-- what used to take 8-12 people two days now only took 5 people and the hours from morning to lunch. We filled 30 some buckets altogether-- but then it was lunch time.
After lunch Gizzie, Newport and I laid out the rest of the CSA. Looking pretty good today: tomatoes, corn, eggplant, cabbage, lettuce, cherry tomatoes, butternut, buttercup, ornamental pumpkins, beets, green/wax string beans, red/green peppers and 4 types of potatoes. The foreman took a long lunch to pick up his car from the repair shop-- they'd finally finished rebuilding it after a tree smashed in the roof during an early September storm. Newport and I got started on the afternoon picking-- we clipped 1 crate of swiss chard and 1 crate of half dinosaur kale/half red bore kale (things are looking pretty sad in the lower fields). Next we headed up to the forest fields and got a start clipping peppers. The foreman eventually returned in the tractor (bringing more buckets and boxes). The 4 long rows gave us: 2 big boxes of green peppers, 4 big boxes of red bull nose italian and 3 boxes of red bell peppers (plus 5 miscellaneous buckets worth).
By the time we washed, boxed and chilled the chard/kale/peppers it was near closing. The foreman was running around the store without saying a word. Gizzie, Newport and I joked around over a couple cigarettes behind the cooler-- everyone was waiting on the paychecks.
All paid and home again.
p.s. On we go. I'm working the early shift tomorrow. I'll see if I can't weasel my way into some basic tractor work. Then it is off to the fair on Sunday-- how much agriculture can a week hold? We're gonna find out.
Woof-- time for wine and to recline.
Take it easy.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Pretty Purtie's Burly Birdy Heard He Hurt The Hurdy Gurdy
Rain, fog, thunder in the evening. Temperature in the mid 60Fs.
Things to talk about. I picked a hard haul of butternut/buttercup this morning with Newport and the foreman. I changed clothes at noon and was shipped out to cover one of the day's double markets. Few people showed up and those that did carried a hard chip on their shoulder. I came home late-- then went for a long drink at "The End" bar with Gizzie. (Warning: this could become a ramblin rant)
Over a table full of empty beer bottles and stuffed ash trays we worked Gizzie back from the brink. Farmer's Markets are a different breed of work-- the customers tend to be more pleasant than your average impatient bustler with a hand full of money. You have extended conversations as each one invariably asks about: the weather, x/y/z crop they heard is doing poorly, their garden, whether you are the boss's kid, recipes, why we don't have something we had last week or the big one-- "are these organic?" A typical day is generally enjoyable-- but no one can hound a person, twisting and tearing out your insides, like a farmer's market customer. Gizzie had his first taste of it and, still being new (having little idea how we did things things 2 months ago), he dug himself into a deep deep hole. It's like word boxing-- except you're hogtied and the customer is a cocky 1-0 heavyweight. And maybe that's the hardest part for the outsider to understand-- customers carry an edge, they turn vindictive quickly when they smell blood. They want to hurt you and they want to win.
I've dealt with these people many times before, I can deflect most of them off without incident-- but sometimes they're committed to an argument and it takes all I have to hold back my word torrent.
But examples and then the context:
The story I always tell from last year: I was working the big money market with the boss. It was an unusually sunny/hot/dry year-- so we planted okra and it thrived. It grew fat and big and delicious. We took okra to market. A woman had loaded up several bags of veggies at our tent and then packed a bag with 4lbs of okra, when she stopped. She plucked out a big one and extended it over to me, asking-- what the hell is this? I didn't have a clue what she meant-- it looked fat, big and delicious. She seemed genuinely mad, personally wronged, I couldn't understand what had happened. She said-- these are too big, you must have sprayed them. I knew for a fact that we hadn't, so I told her-- it's a perfect year, we took care of the plant, the vegetable did very well, what do you expect-- plants want to be big.
People can get so turned around in a genetic-food paranoia that they forget that in the right environment everything grows big-- just cause something isn't tiny, worm eaten and sad doesn't mean it's not healthy/spray-less. So anyway, the woman didn't say another word-- she just tipped her bag upside down and dumped out the okra into it's bin, then she dumped out all her other bags too. She leveled a long slow leer at me. She walked across to an organic tent and continued to stare a hole in my head, like I was a pig bleeding on the carpet.
I went crazy that afternoon. At first I felt I'd done something wrong, or that the boss had made some big secret mistake. Then I got angry, I thought-- who is this woman? Who does she think she is? Bah and Old Rudolpho/his sons/his daughters/his grandson, the boss/foreman/the boys, they sweated over this okra-- tilling the soil, seeding it, weeding it, watering it (frequently), praying the weather holds over it, picking it, packaging it and then I brought it for her to buy-- and that wasn't good enough for her? She had to make a show out of her offense at our crops? It was exactly what she'd hoped it was, but she turned up her nose. I was so mad that I stomped around the market looking for the woman so I could tell her off-- didn't find her (fortunately for me).
That was my first time, so it was the most memorable, but there were many others. It's a war zone out there.
Gizzie's first was a slightly more personal attack as he was alone. We bought some carrots this week from a neighboring farm. We boxed up some and took them to market. Gizzie is a man who cannot lie. A woman came up and began interrogating him about carrots-- how's this season for carrots, why do they look like this, are these your carrots? Gizzie was overwhelmed with questions he didn't know how to answer, but he knew and said-- no we didn't grow them. That sunk his ship. She laid into him hard-- so how do I know these are your corn, your tomatoes, your potatoes, peppers, lettuce, string beans, etc, etc? It's too late for corn, how can you have corn? These tomatoes are too big, what did you do to them? Where'd you get these beans? Gizzie was swallowed up whole. And everything was ours, grown/tilled and raised-- just not the carrots. Gizzie sounded like a child, but managed to say-- the carrots are good and we though you might like them, so I brought them here and I am sorry.
It chews you up. At a farmer's market we are Management/Factory/Sales Floor all rolled into one-- there's no mysterious line of command to pass up the buck, everything is our responsibility and our fault. But as a comedian once said: feeding people is sacred territory. We take our work seriously and personally. You can't help it-- I seeded the plants these tomatoes came from in March, transplanted them in May, weeded them through July and have been picking/shining/selling them since August. It takes 1-4 months to bring a plant from seed to fruit, we're there every day-- it takes a couple hours to a week for a customer to buy/cook/eat/shit out that fruit and they'll never think twice about it. You don't have to like them, you don't have to buy them, but never-- never insult my tomatoes. We bring them because we hope people will like them and, no, I am not sorry for that. Insulting our food and all its work-- is to insult Bah, the boss and a host of people just trying to make a good living by growing good vegetables. It makes my blood boil.
This has become a rant. Before I go on:
there are reasons I can understand that the "organic" matters.
1. Trace chemical pesticides can interact with chemotherapy treatments/other highly invasive disease medications. Suffering enough through poison treatments, you want to be 100% sure that it's not the stupid potatoes that are gonna tickle a drug the wrong way and accidentally kill grandma.
I've had only one person make clear this situation at a market. Last year an old woman at the big money market said-- my husband is undergoing chemotherapy treatments, I just need to be sure-- do you spray your tomatoes? Our tomatoes were clean and she was overjoyed. The boss helped her pick out things he knew were planted in fields far from the 1 block of corn we had sprayed. He gave her a discount and then pointed her to other tents he knew were straight spray-less/organic. She was polite, patient and well-intentioned. She had nothing to prove and I liked her for it. (ps-- she's a regular now, back every week. Her husband is recovering, just fine and dandy)
But that's the difference you see. The old woman was buying vegetables, many other customers aren't. Every asshole isn't a silent and dignified cancer patient. As I told Gizzie at "The End" bar: that lady who haunts you didn't come to buy carrots, she wanted to buy politics, a lifestyle, a story attached to carrots-- but the carrots are only incidental to the all important story. It's hard to explain, but people sometimes look at us with actual hatred -- we become little effigies for Monsanto, for supermarkets, for everything they disagree with and want destroyed-- just because we are honest, and tell them: yes we sprayed some of these veggies. Men and women walk away in disgust, their faces/voices contorted, from a table full of food. Some organic farms make a lot of money selling exactly what these people want: food attached to a lifestyle and politics.
But that's why. That's why I respect the boss and this farm: we just sell carrots. That's it, no more, nothing attached. It is food that will feed you-- we won't lie and tell you "today, you helped change the world by spending money and then cooking a dish." Buying our food won't coddle you into thinking you're a better person or somebody that you are not. It is just food. And all we do is make it and then sell it to you. No gimmicks: no straw hats and handmade banjos, no pamphlets on which choices are wrong, no model poster children telling you what a free/enlightened life they lead that you too can share by merely purchasing "the right" turnip. No lies, no gimmicks, just food.
It is just food. And still, we try our best to make it as cleanly, healthily and safely as possible-- but if fungicide didn't exist, there would be no tomatoes this year. Not one. And still we try to do without spraying.
Customers with a little knowledge and a big idea about themselves are a dangerous thing. Their barbs hurt because we care deep. And the honest truth is-- the irate customer doesn't. If they did: they would recognize that we are honest, that this work takes a heavy toll, that like a raspberry row our season is short and only so much can be done before we're harrowed into the soil. It's just food. If you want to eat it do so, if you don't-- walk away.
Take it easy.
Things to talk about. I picked a hard haul of butternut/buttercup this morning with Newport and the foreman. I changed clothes at noon and was shipped out to cover one of the day's double markets. Few people showed up and those that did carried a hard chip on their shoulder. I came home late-- then went for a long drink at "The End" bar with Gizzie. (Warning: this could become a ramblin rant)
Over a table full of empty beer bottles and stuffed ash trays we worked Gizzie back from the brink. Farmer's Markets are a different breed of work-- the customers tend to be more pleasant than your average impatient bustler with a hand full of money. You have extended conversations as each one invariably asks about: the weather, x/y/z crop they heard is doing poorly, their garden, whether you are the boss's kid, recipes, why we don't have something we had last week or the big one-- "are these organic?" A typical day is generally enjoyable-- but no one can hound a person, twisting and tearing out your insides, like a farmer's market customer. Gizzie had his first taste of it and, still being new (having little idea how we did things things 2 months ago), he dug himself into a deep deep hole. It's like word boxing-- except you're hogtied and the customer is a cocky 1-0 heavyweight. And maybe that's the hardest part for the outsider to understand-- customers carry an edge, they turn vindictive quickly when they smell blood. They want to hurt you and they want to win.
I've dealt with these people many times before, I can deflect most of them off without incident-- but sometimes they're committed to an argument and it takes all I have to hold back my word torrent.
But examples and then the context:
The story I always tell from last year: I was working the big money market with the boss. It was an unusually sunny/hot/dry year-- so we planted okra and it thrived. It grew fat and big and delicious. We took okra to market. A woman had loaded up several bags of veggies at our tent and then packed a bag with 4lbs of okra, when she stopped. She plucked out a big one and extended it over to me, asking-- what the hell is this? I didn't have a clue what she meant-- it looked fat, big and delicious. She seemed genuinely mad, personally wronged, I couldn't understand what had happened. She said-- these are too big, you must have sprayed them. I knew for a fact that we hadn't, so I told her-- it's a perfect year, we took care of the plant, the vegetable did very well, what do you expect-- plants want to be big.
People can get so turned around in a genetic-food paranoia that they forget that in the right environment everything grows big-- just cause something isn't tiny, worm eaten and sad doesn't mean it's not healthy/spray-less. So anyway, the woman didn't say another word-- she just tipped her bag upside down and dumped out the okra into it's bin, then she dumped out all her other bags too. She leveled a long slow leer at me. She walked across to an organic tent and continued to stare a hole in my head, like I was a pig bleeding on the carpet.
I went crazy that afternoon. At first I felt I'd done something wrong, or that the boss had made some big secret mistake. Then I got angry, I thought-- who is this woman? Who does she think she is? Bah and Old Rudolpho/his sons/his daughters/his grandson, the boss/foreman/the boys, they sweated over this okra-- tilling the soil, seeding it, weeding it, watering it (frequently), praying the weather holds over it, picking it, packaging it and then I brought it for her to buy-- and that wasn't good enough for her? She had to make a show out of her offense at our crops? It was exactly what she'd hoped it was, but she turned up her nose. I was so mad that I stomped around the market looking for the woman so I could tell her off-- didn't find her (fortunately for me).
That was my first time, so it was the most memorable, but there were many others. It's a war zone out there.
Gizzie's first was a slightly more personal attack as he was alone. We bought some carrots this week from a neighboring farm. We boxed up some and took them to market. Gizzie is a man who cannot lie. A woman came up and began interrogating him about carrots-- how's this season for carrots, why do they look like this, are these your carrots? Gizzie was overwhelmed with questions he didn't know how to answer, but he knew and said-- no we didn't grow them. That sunk his ship. She laid into him hard-- so how do I know these are your corn, your tomatoes, your potatoes, peppers, lettuce, string beans, etc, etc? It's too late for corn, how can you have corn? These tomatoes are too big, what did you do to them? Where'd you get these beans? Gizzie was swallowed up whole. And everything was ours, grown/tilled and raised-- just not the carrots. Gizzie sounded like a child, but managed to say-- the carrots are good and we though you might like them, so I brought them here and I am sorry.
It chews you up. At a farmer's market we are Management/Factory/Sales Floor all rolled into one-- there's no mysterious line of command to pass up the buck, everything is our responsibility and our fault. But as a comedian once said: feeding people is sacred territory. We take our work seriously and personally. You can't help it-- I seeded the plants these tomatoes came from in March, transplanted them in May, weeded them through July and have been picking/shining/selling them since August. It takes 1-4 months to bring a plant from seed to fruit, we're there every day-- it takes a couple hours to a week for a customer to buy/cook/eat/shit out that fruit and they'll never think twice about it. You don't have to like them, you don't have to buy them, but never-- never insult my tomatoes. We bring them because we hope people will like them and, no, I am not sorry for that. Insulting our food and all its work-- is to insult Bah, the boss and a host of people just trying to make a good living by growing good vegetables. It makes my blood boil.
This has become a rant. Before I go on:
there are reasons I can understand that the "organic" matters.
1. Trace chemical pesticides can interact with chemotherapy treatments/other highly invasive disease medications. Suffering enough through poison treatments, you want to be 100% sure that it's not the stupid potatoes that are gonna tickle a drug the wrong way and accidentally kill grandma.
I've had only one person make clear this situation at a market. Last year an old woman at the big money market said-- my husband is undergoing chemotherapy treatments, I just need to be sure-- do you spray your tomatoes? Our tomatoes were clean and she was overjoyed. The boss helped her pick out things he knew were planted in fields far from the 1 block of corn we had sprayed. He gave her a discount and then pointed her to other tents he knew were straight spray-less/organic. She was polite, patient and well-intentioned. She had nothing to prove and I liked her for it. (ps-- she's a regular now, back every week. Her husband is recovering, just fine and dandy)
But that's the difference you see. The old woman was buying vegetables, many other customers aren't. Every asshole isn't a silent and dignified cancer patient. As I told Gizzie at "The End" bar: that lady who haunts you didn't come to buy carrots, she wanted to buy politics, a lifestyle, a story attached to carrots-- but the carrots are only incidental to the all important story. It's hard to explain, but people sometimes look at us with actual hatred -- we become little effigies for Monsanto, for supermarkets, for everything they disagree with and want destroyed-- just because we are honest, and tell them: yes we sprayed some of these veggies. Men and women walk away in disgust, their faces/voices contorted, from a table full of food. Some organic farms make a lot of money selling exactly what these people want: food attached to a lifestyle and politics.
But that's why. That's why I respect the boss and this farm: we just sell carrots. That's it, no more, nothing attached. It is food that will feed you-- we won't lie and tell you "today, you helped change the world by spending money and then cooking a dish." Buying our food won't coddle you into thinking you're a better person or somebody that you are not. It is just food. And all we do is make it and then sell it to you. No gimmicks: no straw hats and handmade banjos, no pamphlets on which choices are wrong, no model poster children telling you what a free/enlightened life they lead that you too can share by merely purchasing "the right" turnip. No lies, no gimmicks, just food.
It is just food. And still, we try our best to make it as cleanly, healthily and safely as possible-- but if fungicide didn't exist, there would be no tomatoes this year. Not one. And still we try to do without spraying.
Customers with a little knowledge and a big idea about themselves are a dangerous thing. Their barbs hurt because we care deep. And the honest truth is-- the irate customer doesn't. If they did: they would recognize that we are honest, that this work takes a heavy toll, that like a raspberry row our season is short and only so much can be done before we're harrowed into the soil. It's just food. If you want to eat it do so, if you don't-- walk away.
Take it easy.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
A Good Man Tries
Full sun all day through-- dodged the scattered showers, but thunderclouds could be in tomorrow. Temperature climbed into the mid-upper 70Fs.
Just to get it out-- the congressman/USDA officials/members of the board of Agriculture/an army of aides/press descended onto the farm today, but I didn't see a thing. We were up pulling potatoes and missed the whole event. I had a long sit down with the boss after closing, everyone else had left, and he told me the happenings. The parade of officials arrived and the boss ushered them around the farm store (showing them the kitchen facilities/business), he took 'em to the barn and around the yard. The entourage settled down out back and talked policy. The big federal farm bill is renewed every 5 years, this is the 5th year now, and major budget cuts are in order. Our congressman is of the opinion (as is the boss) that the majority of these cuts should come in the form of slashing commodity subsidies (corn/other staple crops are often underwritten, encouraging/discouraging their growth). It's big money-- hundreds of millions and more. Lots of money that we never see at least, we're a small farm not industrial agriculture scale. The boss took the opportunity to wrench his farm bureau presidency weight, strongly advocating for a more extreme budget-- cut as much of the subsidies as possible, beyond balance the budget necessities and then use the freed up funds to fund/incentivize agricultural-method research. So instead of forking out 100 million on new lab-crop research, put some money (any money), into development of farming methods. Sometimes how you plant is more important than what brand of seed you're planting-- I mean good healthy crops come from good healthy seeds. But-- arranging a specific crop row in the right place and in the right manner can do more (with less) to prevent plant mold/fungus, than expensive anti-fungal spray/spray resistant seeds. The boss made his case on a number of issues-- most of the visit was spent talking, little surprise. (Fortunately, there's no plan to change the young farmers land grants-- aimed to help new/landless farmers get established. These programs are chump change [.01% of their budget] when compared to subsidies.)
But we picked. Today was the first day we really felt the full load from losing Bah and most of the crew. We needed everything and we picked everything. We loaded all the bucket into the front loader and the foreman/Newport/Gizzie/Me climbed aboard the tractor, heading up and out to the forest fields. Beans, Beans, Beans. We hunkered down and picked string beans straight through to lunch.
Viking was back and came to visit while we ate sandwiches. She told us the full story: Viking wrote a 6 page ultimatum-letter and gave it to the boss. She was furious at the time--Me and Gizzie started to feel real bad for the boss. He had called up Viking afterward-- he was devastated reading that letter. He appreciated all she had to say about improving the business, but simply didn't have the money to pay her more-- this train wreck season has him on the money-ropes. Reconciling, Viking agreed to work Wednesdays through the remainder of the Fall. She'd forgiven the boss, at least partially, but Viking turned beet red and shook when talking about the daughter. Everyone has needs and demands-- in our case all of 'em fall at the boss's door. Gizzie and I scooted around the greenhouse for cigarettes, we decided to work for free if the boss needed it. A good boss is hard to find, a good man is even rarer. Yesterday, while at market, Gizzie asked the boss his side of the Rosie (the cow) saga-- he replied:
"Some people are straight as an arrow, like my brother, they need things to be just a certain way and when anything/anyone steps out of line they get mad. They belittle and write off people they don't understand as crazy. I always tried not to be that way. Yeah, there was a woman who was in love with one of the cows-- wanted to buy it save it keep it as a pet. To tell you the truth, I understand a bit where she's coming from-- people love animals, that's not so strange. Some people get attached to cows, some get attached to dogs or horses. I bottle fed Rosie twice a day for a year. It broke my heart to see her repeatedly kick away her own calf when it tried to suckle. It broke my heart."
We'd work for free.
After lunch we headed back up to the forest field and finished off the remaining string beans (altogether we had 14 buckets of green, 7 wax and 4 roman). Old Rudolpho and his nephew went through the peppers while we picked the 3 eggplant varieties. It's certainly pleasant having someone to talk to for once-- Gizzie did well for his first bean/eggplant extravaganza. We got 2 big boxes of green peppers, 3 buckets of fairy tale eggplant, 4 buckets of big eggplant and 6 buckets of oriental. On to the next line of business-- weck dropped off the haul, grabbed the hoes and more buckets: it was time for pulling potatoes.
The foreman pulled out the field chart-- the potato area is a mess of 1/2 rows of one variety mixed in with 1/3 a row of others. We finally got things straight, found then rows where we needed to be, and got to work. 4 buckets of kennebunk, 4 buckets of french fingerlings, 4 buckets of yukon golds and 4 buckets of another white potato variety (I think the variety sounds something like Satori or Sabatini, can't remember for sure). Gizzie left early for class-- the rest of us pushed through the end of the day. We dropped the buckets behind the store just in time for closing.
As I said-- I talked to the boss for a good while after work. We chatted about the congressman's visit, the crops, Viking, his doctor appointment, physical therapy (I know that rodeo well) , this season, the storm system coming and about me working this weekend.
Homeward bound.
It's gonna be a different day tomorrow-- the daughter wants to go to a concert or something, so I'm covering her market. Oh well, it is something new to do.
Take it easy.
P.S.
Gizzie asked me what the ball things are, something possessed me and I told him-- they're Harlot's Fruit. So that's what we call 'em now-- though Viking corrected us, it's actually a dark walnut tree and the nut grows inside the ball bit. Still, it's Harlot's Fruit. It grows right alongside the barn. (Not a bad picture for a cellphone, maybe I'll use it's camera from now on)
Just to get it out-- the congressman/USDA officials/members of the board of Agriculture/an army of aides/press descended onto the farm today, but I didn't see a thing. We were up pulling potatoes and missed the whole event. I had a long sit down with the boss after closing, everyone else had left, and he told me the happenings. The parade of officials arrived and the boss ushered them around the farm store (showing them the kitchen facilities/business), he took 'em to the barn and around the yard. The entourage settled down out back and talked policy. The big federal farm bill is renewed every 5 years, this is the 5th year now, and major budget cuts are in order. Our congressman is of the opinion (as is the boss) that the majority of these cuts should come in the form of slashing commodity subsidies (corn/other staple crops are often underwritten, encouraging/discouraging their growth). It's big money-- hundreds of millions and more. Lots of money that we never see at least, we're a small farm not industrial agriculture scale. The boss took the opportunity to wrench his farm bureau presidency weight, strongly advocating for a more extreme budget-- cut as much of the subsidies as possible, beyond balance the budget necessities and then use the freed up funds to fund/incentivize agricultural-method research. So instead of forking out 100 million on new lab-crop research, put some money (any money), into development of farming methods. Sometimes how you plant is more important than what brand of seed you're planting-- I mean good healthy crops come from good healthy seeds. But-- arranging a specific crop row in the right place and in the right manner can do more (with less) to prevent plant mold/fungus, than expensive anti-fungal spray/spray resistant seeds. The boss made his case on a number of issues-- most of the visit was spent talking, little surprise. (Fortunately, there's no plan to change the young farmers land grants-- aimed to help new/landless farmers get established. These programs are chump change [.01% of their budget] when compared to subsidies.)
But we picked. Today was the first day we really felt the full load from losing Bah and most of the crew. We needed everything and we picked everything. We loaded all the bucket into the front loader and the foreman/Newport/Gizzie/Me climbed aboard the tractor, heading up and out to the forest fields. Beans, Beans, Beans. We hunkered down and picked string beans straight through to lunch.
Viking was back and came to visit while we ate sandwiches. She told us the full story: Viking wrote a 6 page ultimatum-letter and gave it to the boss. She was furious at the time--Me and Gizzie started to feel real bad for the boss. He had called up Viking afterward-- he was devastated reading that letter. He appreciated all she had to say about improving the business, but simply didn't have the money to pay her more-- this train wreck season has him on the money-ropes. Reconciling, Viking agreed to work Wednesdays through the remainder of the Fall. She'd forgiven the boss, at least partially, but Viking turned beet red and shook when talking about the daughter. Everyone has needs and demands-- in our case all of 'em fall at the boss's door. Gizzie and I scooted around the greenhouse for cigarettes, we decided to work for free if the boss needed it. A good boss is hard to find, a good man is even rarer. Yesterday, while at market, Gizzie asked the boss his side of the Rosie (the cow) saga-- he replied:
"Some people are straight as an arrow, like my brother, they need things to be just a certain way and when anything/anyone steps out of line they get mad. They belittle and write off people they don't understand as crazy. I always tried not to be that way. Yeah, there was a woman who was in love with one of the cows-- wanted to buy it save it keep it as a pet. To tell you the truth, I understand a bit where she's coming from-- people love animals, that's not so strange. Some people get attached to cows, some get attached to dogs or horses. I bottle fed Rosie twice a day for a year. It broke my heart to see her repeatedly kick away her own calf when it tried to suckle. It broke my heart."
We'd work for free.
After lunch we headed back up to the forest field and finished off the remaining string beans (altogether we had 14 buckets of green, 7 wax and 4 roman). Old Rudolpho and his nephew went through the peppers while we picked the 3 eggplant varieties. It's certainly pleasant having someone to talk to for once-- Gizzie did well for his first bean/eggplant extravaganza. We got 2 big boxes of green peppers, 3 buckets of fairy tale eggplant, 4 buckets of big eggplant and 6 buckets of oriental. On to the next line of business-- weck dropped off the haul, grabbed the hoes and more buckets: it was time for pulling potatoes.
The foreman pulled out the field chart-- the potato area is a mess of 1/2 rows of one variety mixed in with 1/3 a row of others. We finally got things straight, found then rows where we needed to be, and got to work. 4 buckets of kennebunk, 4 buckets of french fingerlings, 4 buckets of yukon golds and 4 buckets of another white potato variety (I think the variety sounds something like Satori or Sabatini, can't remember for sure). Gizzie left early for class-- the rest of us pushed through the end of the day. We dropped the buckets behind the store just in time for closing.
As I said-- I talked to the boss for a good while after work. We chatted about the congressman's visit, the crops, Viking, his doctor appointment, physical therapy (I know that rodeo well) , this season, the storm system coming and about me working this weekend.
Homeward bound.
It's gonna be a different day tomorrow-- the daughter wants to go to a concert or something, so I'm covering her market. Oh well, it is something new to do.
Take it easy.
P.S.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Shining Through
Mostly sunny throughout the day, only a few odd clouds. Temperature never climbed above the low 70Fs.
It was a picking morning.
Gizzie and I got started setting up the boxes for today's big money market. Some of the pumpkins out in front of the store had started to rot and cave in, so we mulled through the rows and culled out the stinkers. Newport and I picked through the zucchini/summer squash rows alongside the greenhouse-- not much happening there anymore, but we still managed enough for market plus another bushel for the store. It was time to start the real business. The boss took me, Newport and the foreman down to the corn in the lower fields-- we picked 5 burlap sacks full. We headed straight up to the forest field: picked 3 buckets of green peppers, 2 buckets worth of beets, 1 bucket of oriental eggplant and 1 bucket of fat eggplant.
We sat around on the tractor talking with the boss awhile-- he's getting prepared to meet the congressman tomorrow. The nature of the visit has changed several times over-- as of now, it's all business. The congressman wants to see us going about our everyday routine, so he can get a feel for what it takes for small agriculture to stay afloat. The boss has a list of things he's ready to pounce on, but we'll have to wait until tomorrow for that.
Gizzie had the van mostly loaded up when we returned. We boxed up the haul and chilled the remainders. The boss took Gizzie and headed out for market, I slumped out back for lunch.
After lunch I headed down to join Old Rudolpho and his nephew for some tomato shining. I scrubbed like a man possessed. With all the buckets from yesterday it was a monumental job for just 3 people. It took the rest of the day--I stayed late with Old Rudolpho to finish the last 4 buckets (90 some buckets total, ~70ish 10lb boxes for wholesale, 24 big trays to ripen, 15 big trays of seconds).
The foreman dragged me up to the store for an emergency session midway through the tomatoes. A business woman had arrived and demanded 6 baskets of our holiday-gift-wrapped-jams-- problem was everything was stowed away in the barn. We tore the place apart, finding the nice wicker baskets/wrap paper/Styrofoam padding/ faux hay/shrink wrap. The foreman hauled out the jam while I assembled the basket/paper combinations-- I packed in the jams and hay, then the foreman sealed the shrink wrap over each with an industrial heat gun. The business woman was very apologetic about the last minute order, even while insisting we complete it immediately. At least we got a heap of money in return.
Then back to the tomatoes, shining to sunset.
Tomorrow is the big day. My boots are all ready, I saved my good work pants (the only ones not riddled with holes all over the knees/thighs/pockets/ass). This weekend's plans are coming together-- Gizzie, his girlfriend, me and our dear mutual friend (we'll call him bonesaw) are going to the big regional carnival/agricultural fair. It's a big thing-- most people go for the carnie rides/booths/bullshit, but there's extensive seminars/competitions for all things agriculture. Several state farm bureaus chip in on the affair-- a union congress is even held there behind closed doors. The foreman went last weekend, and since we're all professional agriculturists-- the boss got him complimentary admission tickets/parking passes. Once the congressman fiasco is over tomorrow afternoon, I'm gonna see if I can get the boss to give our crew the same high class treatment. Anyway, it'll be good. I am gonna keep my eyes peeled for all things chickens/herding dogs.
But that's all a few days away. Tomorrow first.
Take it easy.
It was a picking morning.
Gizzie and I got started setting up the boxes for today's big money market. Some of the pumpkins out in front of the store had started to rot and cave in, so we mulled through the rows and culled out the stinkers. Newport and I picked through the zucchini/summer squash rows alongside the greenhouse-- not much happening there anymore, but we still managed enough for market plus another bushel for the store. It was time to start the real business. The boss took me, Newport and the foreman down to the corn in the lower fields-- we picked 5 burlap sacks full. We headed straight up to the forest field: picked 3 buckets of green peppers, 2 buckets worth of beets, 1 bucket of oriental eggplant and 1 bucket of fat eggplant.
We sat around on the tractor talking with the boss awhile-- he's getting prepared to meet the congressman tomorrow. The nature of the visit has changed several times over-- as of now, it's all business. The congressman wants to see us going about our everyday routine, so he can get a feel for what it takes for small agriculture to stay afloat. The boss has a list of things he's ready to pounce on, but we'll have to wait until tomorrow for that.
Gizzie had the van mostly loaded up when we returned. We boxed up the haul and chilled the remainders. The boss took Gizzie and headed out for market, I slumped out back for lunch.
After lunch I headed down to join Old Rudolpho and his nephew for some tomato shining. I scrubbed like a man possessed. With all the buckets from yesterday it was a monumental job for just 3 people. It took the rest of the day--I stayed late with Old Rudolpho to finish the last 4 buckets (90 some buckets total, ~70ish 10lb boxes for wholesale, 24 big trays to ripen, 15 big trays of seconds).
The foreman dragged me up to the store for an emergency session midway through the tomatoes. A business woman had arrived and demanded 6 baskets of our holiday-gift-wrapped-jams-- problem was everything was stowed away in the barn. We tore the place apart, finding the nice wicker baskets/wrap paper/Styrofoam padding/ faux hay/shrink wrap. The foreman hauled out the jam while I assembled the basket/paper combinations-- I packed in the jams and hay, then the foreman sealed the shrink wrap over each with an industrial heat gun. The business woman was very apologetic about the last minute order, even while insisting we complete it immediately. At least we got a heap of money in return.
Then back to the tomatoes, shining to sunset.
Tomorrow is the big day. My boots are all ready, I saved my good work pants (the only ones not riddled with holes all over the knees/thighs/pockets/ass). This weekend's plans are coming together-- Gizzie, his girlfriend, me and our dear mutual friend (we'll call him bonesaw) are going to the big regional carnival/agricultural fair. It's a big thing-- most people go for the carnie rides/booths/bullshit, but there's extensive seminars/competitions for all things agriculture. Several state farm bureaus chip in on the affair-- a union congress is even held there behind closed doors. The foreman went last weekend, and since we're all professional agriculturists-- the boss got him complimentary admission tickets/parking passes. Once the congressman fiasco is over tomorrow afternoon, I'm gonna see if I can get the boss to give our crew the same high class treatment. Anyway, it'll be good. I am gonna keep my eyes peeled for all things chickens/herding dogs.
But that's all a few days away. Tomorrow first.
Take it easy.
Monday, September 26, 2011
All Bets Are Off
Surprisingly sunny-- no rain, no clouds all day. We narrowly dodged another week full of rain, but the damage is done. The temperature clung around 75F in the sun.
All bets are off, who knows what will happen next.
The last two weeks of rain seriously compromised our fall harvest. Good weather will keep us hobbling a little longer, but more bad weather will end it. I was down in the city visiting Darlin this past weekend (hence no posting) and a lot happened in my absence.
First of all-- Bah has been let go for the season. I couldn't believe when I heard it, I really have a soft spot for the man-- he works harder, smarter and longer hours than anyone I've ever met. It's a shame for him to move along without so much as a handshake. Old Rudolpho and his nephew are still around, but his daughters and friends are gone. But even Old Rudolpho is getting ready to go home for winter-- 1-2 weeks before he boards the plane. Bad news, but worse still-- the boss's daughter told me and Gizzie: Viking rolled her gambit and crashed-- the Boss couldn't afford to give her a raise, so she gave her 2 weeks notice on Sunday. She can't be replaced. Things are gonna get real quiet around the farm-- I hope the boss knows how much we need Viking around. It'll just be me, Gizzie, Newport, the foreman and the boss. It's a sad state of affairs.
But the sun was here. Maybe too little too late, it's here all the same and we made the most of it. I joined up with the boys and we all headed up the hilltop to the fall tomato fields. The weather held this weekend, so there was quite a load ready for picking-- we pulled more than the boss expected (38 full buckets, instead of the 24 buckets last week). The foreman was in a sour mood and stalked behind Gizzie, yelling out furious for every tomato he missed (only 2). Still, Gizzie and I managed to pick along pleasantly-- it was nice catching up after my little weekend trip. We finished the field just in time for lunch.
After lunch it was time for more tomatoes. Gizzie was spared, he was dragged into the kitchen for jam/sauce duty. The rest of us joined Old Rudolpho and his nephew in the big field (what's left of it). The 28 big tomato rows are hanging on by a thread-- the nephew says there is no way they can last more than another week. We marched through the entirety of the field -- filling another 50 buckets (another big surprise)-- before turning onto the trellised tomatoes (18 buckets). Gotta love these solid harvest days, they shake the cobwebs out.
The day had grown late by the time we finished the cherry tomatoes-- one more job left. We hiked up to the forest field and set down in the string beans to get whatever we could manage before closing. The foreman mellowed out a bit and was chumming around with Newport-- I kept up alongside Old Rudolpho, picking fast and hard. We packed 7 full bean buckets into van at closing time and rolled back to the store/home.
Whatever happens the show goes on. This Wednesday the congressman is coming-- so it's time to patch up the pants and wash the work shirts. My trench foot has mostly cleared and I spent all of last night fixing up my boots. They needed serious help. At Darlin's suggestion I mixed up a rubbing alcohol/water solution and covered the interiors of the boots-- killing off the mold starting to settle inside there. Pulled out the laces and scrubbed off a month's worth of mud, then I poured a tablespoon of baking soda into each boot. Let 'em air dry by the fan all night and today (wore my old boots with the busted toes to work). They're looking/smelling a lot better tonight-- so I've reapplied a few rounds of sealant/waterproofing material. Maybe they'll be ready for tomorrow.
Take it easy.
All bets are off, who knows what will happen next.
The last two weeks of rain seriously compromised our fall harvest. Good weather will keep us hobbling a little longer, but more bad weather will end it. I was down in the city visiting Darlin this past weekend (hence no posting) and a lot happened in my absence.
First of all-- Bah has been let go for the season. I couldn't believe when I heard it, I really have a soft spot for the man-- he works harder, smarter and longer hours than anyone I've ever met. It's a shame for him to move along without so much as a handshake. Old Rudolpho and his nephew are still around, but his daughters and friends are gone. But even Old Rudolpho is getting ready to go home for winter-- 1-2 weeks before he boards the plane. Bad news, but worse still-- the boss's daughter told me and Gizzie: Viking rolled her gambit and crashed-- the Boss couldn't afford to give her a raise, so she gave her 2 weeks notice on Sunday. She can't be replaced. Things are gonna get real quiet around the farm-- I hope the boss knows how much we need Viking around. It'll just be me, Gizzie, Newport, the foreman and the boss. It's a sad state of affairs.
But the sun was here. Maybe too little too late, it's here all the same and we made the most of it. I joined up with the boys and we all headed up the hilltop to the fall tomato fields. The weather held this weekend, so there was quite a load ready for picking-- we pulled more than the boss expected (38 full buckets, instead of the 24 buckets last week). The foreman was in a sour mood and stalked behind Gizzie, yelling out furious for every tomato he missed (only 2). Still, Gizzie and I managed to pick along pleasantly-- it was nice catching up after my little weekend trip. We finished the field just in time for lunch.
After lunch it was time for more tomatoes. Gizzie was spared, he was dragged into the kitchen for jam/sauce duty. The rest of us joined Old Rudolpho and his nephew in the big field (what's left of it). The 28 big tomato rows are hanging on by a thread-- the nephew says there is no way they can last more than another week. We marched through the entirety of the field -- filling another 50 buckets (another big surprise)-- before turning onto the trellised tomatoes (18 buckets). Gotta love these solid harvest days, they shake the cobwebs out.
The day had grown late by the time we finished the cherry tomatoes-- one more job left. We hiked up to the forest field and set down in the string beans to get whatever we could manage before closing. The foreman mellowed out a bit and was chumming around with Newport-- I kept up alongside Old Rudolpho, picking fast and hard. We packed 7 full bean buckets into van at closing time and rolled back to the store/home.
Whatever happens the show goes on. This Wednesday the congressman is coming-- so it's time to patch up the pants and wash the work shirts. My trench foot has mostly cleared and I spent all of last night fixing up my boots. They needed serious help. At Darlin's suggestion I mixed up a rubbing alcohol/water solution and covered the interiors of the boots-- killing off the mold starting to settle inside there. Pulled out the laces and scrubbed off a month's worth of mud, then I poured a tablespoon of baking soda into each boot. Let 'em air dry by the fan all night and today (wore my old boots with the busted toes to work). They're looking/smelling a lot better tonight-- so I've reapplied a few rounds of sealant/waterproofing material. Maybe they'll be ready for tomorrow.
Take it easy.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Sugar Pumpkin
Steady morning rain lifted after noon, actually got some sun in the late day. Temperature hung to the upper 60Fs.
Today was the double markets, so we spent a good chunk of the morning sorting out the crates. Gizzie oversaw most of the organizing while Newport and I filled up the store displays. Next up-- The foreman and I set out to the forest fields and cut 8 bushels worth of green peppers. After the sorting and the boxing, I got started laying out the CSA. Quite a spread today: 4 types of potatoes (red french fingerlings, yukon golds, kennebunks, reds), lettuce, spinach, butternut & butter cup squash, beets, red & green peppers, cabbage, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, chard, kale, eggplant, zucchini, string beans (green and yellow wax) and tiny ornamental pumpkins. No corn today-- the cold slowed down the ear development on our late fields, so nothing is ready to pick. They're inching along, but it'll take a few sunny days to spring 'em to readiness.
Bah and Old Rudolpho's family took the day off on account of the rain-- smart choice, as usual.
It was almost lunch by the time everything was ready. We loaded up the van, then Newport and I followed the boss/his daughter to the first market to set everything up. Back to the farm and a late lunch.
After lunch it was rinse, wash and repeat. I followed the boss and Gizzie off to second market-- got everything set up there. Finally got back to the farm and to real work-- Newport, the foreman and I headed off again to the forest fields. We cut 4 big crates worth of beets--washed 'em, tucked some into the CSA and chilled the rest (the cooler is finally up and running again). The boss forgot to leave us anymore jobs so it was time to get creative. First-- we tractored up to the hilltop and picked a few front loader's full of sugar pumpkins (meaty and sweet, great for pies). After stowing several hauls away, we filled a picked a big load of tiny ornamental/ larger ornamental pumpkins. We washed off the field dirt and arranged them around the store and gardens-- precious few days left for getting ready, the big congress visit is next Wednesday.
Closing time, just in time.
Health Asides: Still having problems with my left hand. I bound my fingers together all day and that spread out some of the strain. I doubt anything is broken (hairline fractures, etc), but hurts like a demon.
Doing some major drying work on my boots tonight. All the wet has done a number on the feet. Had my mother (a nurse) take a look at the rash spreading over my right foot-- she couldn't be sure: either its from rubbing against the wet boot leather or its a bad bacteria (think the early stages of trench foot). God damn it.
Time to get busy patching myself together-- one more day then its a long (2 day) weekend.
Take it easy.
Today was the double markets, so we spent a good chunk of the morning sorting out the crates. Gizzie oversaw most of the organizing while Newport and I filled up the store displays. Next up-- The foreman and I set out to the forest fields and cut 8 bushels worth of green peppers. After the sorting and the boxing, I got started laying out the CSA. Quite a spread today: 4 types of potatoes (red french fingerlings, yukon golds, kennebunks, reds), lettuce, spinach, butternut & butter cup squash, beets, red & green peppers, cabbage, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, chard, kale, eggplant, zucchini, string beans (green and yellow wax) and tiny ornamental pumpkins. No corn today-- the cold slowed down the ear development on our late fields, so nothing is ready to pick. They're inching along, but it'll take a few sunny days to spring 'em to readiness.
Bah and Old Rudolpho's family took the day off on account of the rain-- smart choice, as usual.
It was almost lunch by the time everything was ready. We loaded up the van, then Newport and I followed the boss/his daughter to the first market to set everything up. Back to the farm and a late lunch.
After lunch it was rinse, wash and repeat. I followed the boss and Gizzie off to second market-- got everything set up there. Finally got back to the farm and to real work-- Newport, the foreman and I headed off again to the forest fields. We cut 4 big crates worth of beets--washed 'em, tucked some into the CSA and chilled the rest (the cooler is finally up and running again). The boss forgot to leave us anymore jobs so it was time to get creative. First-- we tractored up to the hilltop and picked a few front loader's full of sugar pumpkins (meaty and sweet, great for pies). After stowing several hauls away, we filled a picked a big load of tiny ornamental/ larger ornamental pumpkins. We washed off the field dirt and arranged them around the store and gardens-- precious few days left for getting ready, the big congress visit is next Wednesday.
Closing time, just in time.
Health Asides: Still having problems with my left hand. I bound my fingers together all day and that spread out some of the strain. I doubt anything is broken (hairline fractures, etc), but hurts like a demon.
Doing some major drying work on my boots tonight. All the wet has done a number on the feet. Had my mother (a nurse) take a look at the rash spreading over my right foot-- she couldn't be sure: either its from rubbing against the wet boot leather or its a bad bacteria (think the early stages of trench foot). God damn it.
Time to get busy patching myself together-- one more day then its a long (2 day) weekend.
Take it easy.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Turning
Full sun all day through-- good, good, good. The temperature reached the upper 70Fs.
As of today things are looking better. The recent cold snap shocked the corps, but also killed off the southern fruit flies and their larvae. Today's sun and warmth dried out the remaining raspberries-- the crew managed to pick a few trays worth before closing. There's more rain coming tomorrow/over the weekend, but hope springs eternal. Some raspberries might turn out.
After the store was squared away the real business began. The foreman, Newport, Gizzie and I hitched up the wagon/rolled up to the hilltop for potato pulling. All the weeds were mowed down yesterday, so new varieties this time around. We got: 2 buckets of reds, 3 buckets of Kennebunk, 3 buckets of yukon gold and 3 buckets of red french fingerlings. The soil was dense from the rain, making the hoeing slow. I screwed myself up a bit in the left hand, one of my finger joints tipped out of wack while cutting through some packed clay-- maybe I hit a rock. Anyway, I bound a couple of my fingers together and got back working. Hurts like a devil and I can't bear any weight on my left hand, but so it goes. I was in a sad head-state from the get-go-- Newport and Gizzie prattled along trying to snap me out of it. Deep funks take a while to squeeze out from underneath.
We washed and laid out the potatoes for CSA-- then lunch time.
Gizzie and I hid beneath the awning for sandwiches. Viking found us and needed to release some poison steam. She has the patience of a martyred saint, but no tolerance for systematic disrespect. The boss has been on a hair trigger all season on account of his pain/rapid decline in health. I wasn't aware, but he's taken out his frustrations on Viking. And she has had it-- no raise, 6 day work weeks and forgotten promises. She went on like a volcano. Viking planned on giving her two week notice today. He'd be devastated. Fortunately for him, the boss was on pain medication again-- acting nice as peachy rain. Viking cooled down and decided to wait a few more days before making any serious decisions.
After lunch we rode back up the hilltop to cut winter squash. We filled the bucket till overflowing with butternut and piled up a mountain of buttercup in the wagon. Big squash (like these) go easily and quickly. Back down at the store we washed and piled up mounds of squash for CSA, then stowed the rest in the greenhouse. Gizzie left early for class-- he gotta finally finish up his degree. Newport and I got busy rearranging the cooler/washing up everything Bah and Old Rudolpho picked. Then it was finally time to do something about the marble-molded butternut. We set up a table and painstakingly skinned several dozen squash. Once skinned, we cut off the stems, sliced them in two lengthwise, scooped the seed gunk, quartered up the meat and bagged it for sale. We went through several rounds of this for the rest of the day-- easy going.
They call for more rain tomorrow-- more rain, more worries. Endless worries. Time to scrub off the squash juice and eat.
Take it easy.
Post-Aside: My cousin had the baby this afternoon! Hadley-Rose is her name-- the next generation is here!
As of today things are looking better. The recent cold snap shocked the corps, but also killed off the southern fruit flies and their larvae. Today's sun and warmth dried out the remaining raspberries-- the crew managed to pick a few trays worth before closing. There's more rain coming tomorrow/over the weekend, but hope springs eternal. Some raspberries might turn out.
After the store was squared away the real business began. The foreman, Newport, Gizzie and I hitched up the wagon/rolled up to the hilltop for potato pulling. All the weeds were mowed down yesterday, so new varieties this time around. We got: 2 buckets of reds, 3 buckets of Kennebunk, 3 buckets of yukon gold and 3 buckets of red french fingerlings. The soil was dense from the rain, making the hoeing slow. I screwed myself up a bit in the left hand, one of my finger joints tipped out of wack while cutting through some packed clay-- maybe I hit a rock. Anyway, I bound a couple of my fingers together and got back working. Hurts like a devil and I can't bear any weight on my left hand, but so it goes. I was in a sad head-state from the get-go-- Newport and Gizzie prattled along trying to snap me out of it. Deep funks take a while to squeeze out from underneath.
We washed and laid out the potatoes for CSA-- then lunch time.
Gizzie and I hid beneath the awning for sandwiches. Viking found us and needed to release some poison steam. She has the patience of a martyred saint, but no tolerance for systematic disrespect. The boss has been on a hair trigger all season on account of his pain/rapid decline in health. I wasn't aware, but he's taken out his frustrations on Viking. And she has had it-- no raise, 6 day work weeks and forgotten promises. She went on like a volcano. Viking planned on giving her two week notice today. He'd be devastated. Fortunately for him, the boss was on pain medication again-- acting nice as peachy rain. Viking cooled down and decided to wait a few more days before making any serious decisions.
After lunch we rode back up the hilltop to cut winter squash. We filled the bucket till overflowing with butternut and piled up a mountain of buttercup in the wagon. Big squash (like these) go easily and quickly. Back down at the store we washed and piled up mounds of squash for CSA, then stowed the rest in the greenhouse. Gizzie left early for class-- he gotta finally finish up his degree. Newport and I got busy rearranging the cooler/washing up everything Bah and Old Rudolpho picked. Then it was finally time to do something about the marble-molded butternut. We set up a table and painstakingly skinned several dozen squash. Once skinned, we cut off the stems, sliced them in two lengthwise, scooped the seed gunk, quartered up the meat and bagged it for sale. We went through several rounds of this for the rest of the day-- easy going.
They call for more rain tomorrow-- more rain, more worries. Endless worries. Time to scrub off the squash juice and eat.
Take it easy.
Post-Aside: My cousin had the baby this afternoon! Hadley-Rose is her name-- the next generation is here!
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
A Friend of the Devil
Light rain all morning, scattered showers through the afternoon. The temperature peaked at 60F.
It was a bleak day. All the boys gathered around out back. Things are running thin this year. The raspberries are over, to tell you the truth--they've been done for a little over a week now. The rain and fruit maggots have melted anything ripe into mush/killed off the young buds/infested the few survivors. Maybe I am over disclosing, but we usually pull 2000 a week from raspberry sales alone. The fall variety is usually long lived and, on a good year, carries through most of October. Not this year, and we're feeling the loss hard. The foreman was stone faced-- he said the pumpkin crop is shit too: not enough, not big enough and not the flawlessly formed gourds people insist upon. A third of the butternut squash has developed a marbled-molding (we'll skin/chop those ones and sell 'em in baggies), fortunately 23 rows yield an enormous number-- 2/3s perfect still equal out to some jaw-dropping tonnage. But it's the tomatoes that are saving us. All the hard work this spring/early summer followed through into good harvests-- on a perfect year we'd have made a fortune, as it is we are able to sink the raspberry losses (narrowly). Bad weather means slow growing, but also bad markets-- no one turns out for produce in a downpour. So it hurts on all ends. Wholesaling has carried us-- we've shipped 60-100 boxes twice a week for the past two months and the checks are coming in just in time (wholesalers are very lackadaisical about payment promptness, its usually about a month until the money shows). Of course, the boss wouldn't lay things out like this (though, over the working weekends he confided some of his worries)-- it was the foreman who put the situation out plain and public. It wasn't discussed today, but last Saturday the boss admitted he might have to start letting go some of the crew in the coming weeks-- the boys will stay, Bah and Old Rudolpho will stay, but some of Bah's friends and the extended Guatemalan family could be let loose. It's a shame that the season trickled into this-- it had such a promising start.
But as Gizzie and I concluded at "The End" bar-- it is the hard gamble of farming: you have to sweat. We can't see what weather is coming 2-3-4-5 months ahead, anything could happen-- so every time, you have to work as though everything will go perfectly. It won't. But if you don't and the weather goes right-- you cannot catch up, it's too late, the opportunity was lost. So you work, regardless of how things look and regardless of how things go-- week by week by month.
A few weeks ago, when Gizzie was first starting, we had our lunch out in a field together. An old man came over for a chat. He was eating ice cream, and said that he'd never been down our road before and decided to stop in for a look. Years ago as a younger man, he'd worked at a vineyard and the wine-master told him something that made all of us stop and think. The wine master said: there are only so many seasons in a lifetime, if everything goes well and a person's health holds up you get 40 seasons. Just 40 seasons. 40 tries in a life to learn/perfect something so sensitive and subjective as wine making. There's a thin line of difference between the vineyard and the farm-- different crops-- but we all face the same limits: 40 tries to get it right. It took the boss 30 years-- to learn his soil, his water table, his crops, his seasons, his customers, his markets, his town politics and his farm. And that's why you ( we, he, I )work-- there's no time for botched tries.
Gizzie and the boss got off to the market. Newport, the foreman, Bah, Old Rudolpho, his family and I got out to the tomato fields-- another wholesale truck is due tomorrow. We picked straight through to lunch.
After lunch the foreman, Newport and I got busy dismantling the head pipes/valves that connect into the drip lines in the tomato/squash/cukes/cantaloupe fields. We stowed away all the plugs, nozzles, connectors and joints. Then back to the tomatoes. We filled every bucket on the farm.
Newport and I ran down to the barn's tomato storage and cleaned everything up. We shuttled the buckets back to the barn and began the sorting/shining hours. Everyone was down in the barn-- nearly went through everything, only 30 or so buckets left. We filled: 25 big trays of unripe 1sts, 15 trays of ripe 2nds, 6 boxes of sauce tomatoes and 45 boxes of 1sts ready to be shipped. We'll get back at it tomorrow morning-- 100 boxes is the magic number.
I'm soaked through, tired and ready to work. It's a funny thing. After hearing of the situation we all set down harder, picked faster and squared ourselves up-- as though force of arms could flip over the season, if only we worked hard enough. This weekend is going to be in the city visiting Darlin, but until then: it's time for working.
Take it easy.
It was a bleak day. All the boys gathered around out back. Things are running thin this year. The raspberries are over, to tell you the truth--they've been done for a little over a week now. The rain and fruit maggots have melted anything ripe into mush/killed off the young buds/infested the few survivors. Maybe I am over disclosing, but we usually pull 2000 a week from raspberry sales alone. The fall variety is usually long lived and, on a good year, carries through most of October. Not this year, and we're feeling the loss hard. The foreman was stone faced-- he said the pumpkin crop is shit too: not enough, not big enough and not the flawlessly formed gourds people insist upon. A third of the butternut squash has developed a marbled-molding (we'll skin/chop those ones and sell 'em in baggies), fortunately 23 rows yield an enormous number-- 2/3s perfect still equal out to some jaw-dropping tonnage. But it's the tomatoes that are saving us. All the hard work this spring/early summer followed through into good harvests-- on a perfect year we'd have made a fortune, as it is we are able to sink the raspberry losses (narrowly). Bad weather means slow growing, but also bad markets-- no one turns out for produce in a downpour. So it hurts on all ends. Wholesaling has carried us-- we've shipped 60-100 boxes twice a week for the past two months and the checks are coming in just in time (wholesalers are very lackadaisical about payment promptness, its usually about a month until the money shows). Of course, the boss wouldn't lay things out like this (though, over the working weekends he confided some of his worries)-- it was the foreman who put the situation out plain and public. It wasn't discussed today, but last Saturday the boss admitted he might have to start letting go some of the crew in the coming weeks-- the boys will stay, Bah and Old Rudolpho will stay, but some of Bah's friends and the extended Guatemalan family could be let loose. It's a shame that the season trickled into this-- it had such a promising start.
But as Gizzie and I concluded at "The End" bar-- it is the hard gamble of farming: you have to sweat. We can't see what weather is coming 2-3-4-5 months ahead, anything could happen-- so every time, you have to work as though everything will go perfectly. It won't. But if you don't and the weather goes right-- you cannot catch up, it's too late, the opportunity was lost. So you work, regardless of how things look and regardless of how things go-- week by week by month.
A few weeks ago, when Gizzie was first starting, we had our lunch out in a field together. An old man came over for a chat. He was eating ice cream, and said that he'd never been down our road before and decided to stop in for a look. Years ago as a younger man, he'd worked at a vineyard and the wine-master told him something that made all of us stop and think. The wine master said: there are only so many seasons in a lifetime, if everything goes well and a person's health holds up you get 40 seasons. Just 40 seasons. 40 tries in a life to learn/perfect something so sensitive and subjective as wine making. There's a thin line of difference between the vineyard and the farm-- different crops-- but we all face the same limits: 40 tries to get it right. It took the boss 30 years-- to learn his soil, his water table, his crops, his seasons, his customers, his markets, his town politics and his farm. And that's why you ( we, he, I )work-- there's no time for botched tries.
Gizzie and the boss got off to the market. Newport, the foreman, Bah, Old Rudolpho, his family and I got out to the tomato fields-- another wholesale truck is due tomorrow. We picked straight through to lunch.
After lunch the foreman, Newport and I got busy dismantling the head pipes/valves that connect into the drip lines in the tomato/squash/cukes/cantaloupe fields. We stowed away all the plugs, nozzles, connectors and joints. Then back to the tomatoes. We filled every bucket on the farm.
Newport and I ran down to the barn's tomato storage and cleaned everything up. We shuttled the buckets back to the barn and began the sorting/shining hours. Everyone was down in the barn-- nearly went through everything, only 30 or so buckets left. We filled: 25 big trays of unripe 1sts, 15 trays of ripe 2nds, 6 boxes of sauce tomatoes and 45 boxes of 1sts ready to be shipped. We'll get back at it tomorrow morning-- 100 boxes is the magic number.
I'm soaked through, tired and ready to work. It's a funny thing. After hearing of the situation we all set down harder, picked faster and squared ourselves up-- as though force of arms could flip over the season, if only we worked hard enough. This weekend is going to be in the city visiting Darlin, but until then: it's time for working.
Take it easy.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Band Standing
Full sun all day through. The temperature started at 49F this morning, but warmed up to the lower 70Fs (in the sun).
Big news today. One of our statesmen has been appointed to the Agricultural Committee in congress-- that's big stuff, but there's bigger yet to come. Turns out the boss has met this statesman several times, being president of the county farmer's bureau has its benefits. The statesman is starting a national tour of small farms to get a sense for what they need. And he's starting at our farm. The boss announced it to the boys this morning-- the foreman and Newport were floored. There will be press, security, other congress people and all their staff-- it'll be a mess.
So it was time to get started tidying up the place and making things look respectable. Newport and I set down to some tag team weeding/brush clearing. The gardens around the farm had grown thick with grasses/weeds/vines. We gave it the works-- weeding clean around the store/gravel by the ice cream window. Gizzie was in the kitchens making pies and churning out more jam/sauce. It took all morning, but the weeds are gone and all the flowers have been deadheaded. It looked like a wasteland. Caught up with Newport on his doings this weekend-- the festival was a big success, double the attendance of last year. Lunch time.
Hunkered down with Gizzie for sandwiches. Darlin brought me back a tin-whistle from her Ireland trip-- I tooted away on it all lunch, tormenting Gizzie. Bah walked by and looked at us-- his face more confused than words can convey.
After lunch it was time to pull pumpkins. Newport and I grabbed the big shears, then hopped on the tractor with the foreman. We filled the front loader/ piled 'em up on the big mower attached to the tractor. 7 full trips. 3 trips taking only the fully orange-ripe pumpkins, 4 trips cutting big greens/half-ripe/anything we could find. It's slow work-- wandering through the weed jungle, taking only 2 pumpkins at a time. But it's a pleasant sweat.
We arranged all the pumpkins around the store front-- covering over the bare gardens, a sea of orange stretches out deep into the parking lot. Set out a big wood/wire table and stacked it high. Looked good, only a little space was left for the sugar pumpkins (when their time comes).
Time somehow flew by out there-- I could hardly believe when Newport told me closing was only an hour away. We set out for the hill top-- taking a quick drag through the tiny-ornamental patch. Snipping and tossing, the bucket filled up surprisingly fast. We rolled back to the store, hosed 'em off, set 'em in buckets, then covered the front corn table over with orange.
It was a quick day hauling pumpkins, but it snuck up and wiped me out. Whew.
Take it easy.
Big news today. One of our statesmen has been appointed to the Agricultural Committee in congress-- that's big stuff, but there's bigger yet to come. Turns out the boss has met this statesman several times, being president of the county farmer's bureau has its benefits. The statesman is starting a national tour of small farms to get a sense for what they need. And he's starting at our farm. The boss announced it to the boys this morning-- the foreman and Newport were floored. There will be press, security, other congress people and all their staff-- it'll be a mess.
So it was time to get started tidying up the place and making things look respectable. Newport and I set down to some tag team weeding/brush clearing. The gardens around the farm had grown thick with grasses/weeds/vines. We gave it the works-- weeding clean around the store/gravel by the ice cream window. Gizzie was in the kitchens making pies and churning out more jam/sauce. It took all morning, but the weeds are gone and all the flowers have been deadheaded. It looked like a wasteland. Caught up with Newport on his doings this weekend-- the festival was a big success, double the attendance of last year. Lunch time.
Hunkered down with Gizzie for sandwiches. Darlin brought me back a tin-whistle from her Ireland trip-- I tooted away on it all lunch, tormenting Gizzie. Bah walked by and looked at us-- his face more confused than words can convey.
After lunch it was time to pull pumpkins. Newport and I grabbed the big shears, then hopped on the tractor with the foreman. We filled the front loader/ piled 'em up on the big mower attached to the tractor. 7 full trips. 3 trips taking only the fully orange-ripe pumpkins, 4 trips cutting big greens/half-ripe/anything we could find. It's slow work-- wandering through the weed jungle, taking only 2 pumpkins at a time. But it's a pleasant sweat.
We arranged all the pumpkins around the store front-- covering over the bare gardens, a sea of orange stretches out deep into the parking lot. Set out a big wood/wire table and stacked it high. Looked good, only a little space was left for the sugar pumpkins (when their time comes).
Time somehow flew by out there-- I could hardly believe when Newport told me closing was only an hour away. We set out for the hill top-- taking a quick drag through the tiny-ornamental patch. Snipping and tossing, the bucket filled up surprisingly fast. We rolled back to the store, hosed 'em off, set 'em in buckets, then covered the front corn table over with orange.
It was a quick day hauling pumpkins, but it snuck up and wiped me out. Whew.
Take it easy.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Weekend Special: Tractor
Full sun all day through. The temperature peaked at 59F. Narrowly dodged an early frost last night.
Forget everything else that happened today. CSA and tomatoes, blah, blah, blah. After I had everything packed up and cleaned in the early afternoon, the boss taught me how to drive the tractor. We climbed into the cab and he showed me what is what. This will be a geek post, you've been warned.
Fortunately for me, I know how to drive standard transmission cars-- I guess that's becoming a rarity these days. The tractor has four pedals: clutch on the left, on the right are 2 brakes (left wheels/right wheels, it helps when turning in thick mud), on the far right is a long bar which is the accelerator (it has a tendency to stick). On the left of the wheel is the first set of gears: forward, neutral and reverse. There are 2 additional gear sticks: drive modes (A, B, C & N) and the standard (1,2,3,4 & N). A is a very low gear good for running machinery, i.e. harrowing, tilling, seeding, spraying, fertilizing, etc. B is a medium gear, faster speed but stable, good for the dirt/stone/gravel tractor roads. C is the highest speed, but only good for pavement driving. Shifting is a bit different from a car/truck. So there are 12 forward gears and 12 reverse gears. First off, the tractor needs to be stopped to change between forward and reverse (obvious), but you also need to stop when changing between A, B or C-- no smooth build ups. Fortunately the 1, 2, 3 and 4s are all the same as always.
The dashboard has all the standards: fuel & temperature. There is no real speedometer, rather only an RPM gauge (although a small digital display off to the side shows traveling miles-per-hour. On the right of the wheel is the general throttle lever-- it controls the general RPM output of the diesel engine. Behind the gear sticks alongside the seat are the hydraulic controls-- one series of levers adjusts the height of the 3 joint attachments-- like the rotor mower we had attached today. Two more levers control the hydraulic outputs to attachments-- the harrow can be raised or lowered with these levers in order to travel to the fields.
In front of the gear sticks on the right is a joystick that controls the front loader-- left and right movements curl/uncurl the bucket, forward and backward raise and lower the entire bucket. There are other movements I know nothing about. Levers on the left side of the seat allow the tractor to switch between 2 wheel and 4 wheel drive--we always keep it in 4 wheel, but the boss says this wears the tires down faster/uses more fuel.
With all this in mind the boss sat in the cab door as I drove around the barn a few times. Then he had me drive back and forth along dead-ends to test my reverse skills. Easy as pie. He hoped down and sat with Lucy (the dog), keeping an eye on me. Soon he left to go about his business.
I got a bit adventurous. I took the tractor out onto the paved road and drove out to the forest fields. I drove up and down the field's travel roads, before taking a trial run to the compost heap (gotta show a little initiative from time to time) and dumped off a bucket's worth of molded squash/water.
I could have driven around all day-- I wish I had (it would have been smart to try the road up to the hilltop when I had a chance). But I didn't want to eat up all the boss's fuel-- a couple dozen joy rides were enough for one day. Despite all the pain he was in, the boss was very satisfied with me. He told me how horrified the foreman was when he first learned to drive the tractor. I was giddy as a schoolboy-- but the more I think about it, I might need to reign in my excitement a bit. All the boys work real close with this big unwieldy powerhouse of a machine-- its better to be terrified and careful than excited and reckless, especially when someone else can be hurt/maimed/killed. So I am excited and paranoid at the same time. But the boss was impressed and I am happy. He said he would start me off the same way he did the foreman-- harrowing down the spent Fall fields. It is relatively easy and there is a wider margin allowing for mistakes.
Before leaving I sorted out pints of cherry tomatoes, chatting with the boss. He is glad to have another tractor driver around-- to cover weekends/days off/unexpected changes. For years now only the boss and the foreman have been the only ones driving-- now there's me.
What a day, what a day.
Feels good. Tomorrow I have off.
Take it easy.
Forget everything else that happened today. CSA and tomatoes, blah, blah, blah. After I had everything packed up and cleaned in the early afternoon, the boss taught me how to drive the tractor. We climbed into the cab and he showed me what is what. This will be a geek post, you've been warned.
Fortunately for me, I know how to drive standard transmission cars-- I guess that's becoming a rarity these days. The tractor has four pedals: clutch on the left, on the right are 2 brakes (left wheels/right wheels, it helps when turning in thick mud), on the far right is a long bar which is the accelerator (it has a tendency to stick). On the left of the wheel is the first set of gears: forward, neutral and reverse. There are 2 additional gear sticks: drive modes (A, B, C & N) and the standard (1,2,3,4 & N). A is a very low gear good for running machinery, i.e. harrowing, tilling, seeding, spraying, fertilizing, etc. B is a medium gear, faster speed but stable, good for the dirt/stone/gravel tractor roads. C is the highest speed, but only good for pavement driving. Shifting is a bit different from a car/truck. So there are 12 forward gears and 12 reverse gears. First off, the tractor needs to be stopped to change between forward and reverse (obvious), but you also need to stop when changing between A, B or C-- no smooth build ups. Fortunately the 1, 2, 3 and 4s are all the same as always.
The dashboard has all the standards: fuel & temperature. There is no real speedometer, rather only an RPM gauge (although a small digital display off to the side shows traveling miles-per-hour. On the right of the wheel is the general throttle lever-- it controls the general RPM output of the diesel engine. Behind the gear sticks alongside the seat are the hydraulic controls-- one series of levers adjusts the height of the 3 joint attachments-- like the rotor mower we had attached today. Two more levers control the hydraulic outputs to attachments-- the harrow can be raised or lowered with these levers in order to travel to the fields.
In front of the gear sticks on the right is a joystick that controls the front loader-- left and right movements curl/uncurl the bucket, forward and backward raise and lower the entire bucket. There are other movements I know nothing about. Levers on the left side of the seat allow the tractor to switch between 2 wheel and 4 wheel drive--we always keep it in 4 wheel, but the boss says this wears the tires down faster/uses more fuel.
With all this in mind the boss sat in the cab door as I drove around the barn a few times. Then he had me drive back and forth along dead-ends to test my reverse skills. Easy as pie. He hoped down and sat with Lucy (the dog), keeping an eye on me. Soon he left to go about his business.
I got a bit adventurous. I took the tractor out onto the paved road and drove out to the forest fields. I drove up and down the field's travel roads, before taking a trial run to the compost heap (gotta show a little initiative from time to time) and dumped off a bucket's worth of molded squash/water.
I could have driven around all day-- I wish I had (it would have been smart to try the road up to the hilltop when I had a chance). But I didn't want to eat up all the boss's fuel-- a couple dozen joy rides were enough for one day. Despite all the pain he was in, the boss was very satisfied with me. He told me how horrified the foreman was when he first learned to drive the tractor. I was giddy as a schoolboy-- but the more I think about it, I might need to reign in my excitement a bit. All the boys work real close with this big unwieldy powerhouse of a machine-- its better to be terrified and careful than excited and reckless, especially when someone else can be hurt/maimed/killed. So I am excited and paranoid at the same time. But the boss was impressed and I am happy. He said he would start me off the same way he did the foreman-- harrowing down the spent Fall fields. It is relatively easy and there is a wider margin allowing for mistakes.
Before leaving I sorted out pints of cherry tomatoes, chatting with the boss. He is glad to have another tractor driver around-- to cover weekends/days off/unexpected changes. For years now only the boss and the foreman have been the only ones driving-- now there's me.
What a day, what a day.
Feels good. Tomorrow I have off.
Take it easy.
Friday, September 16, 2011
King Vincent's Chair
Full sun all day through. The temperature started around 49F, but climbed to 59-63F-- many a cold breeze.
The hospital visit went well last night-- my cousin is getting out tonight, either he'll be released or his mom plans to sneak him out. Gizzie met me for a midnight meal, which quickly turned to a night at 'The End' bar. A few hours of conversation in and the power for half the city cut out. Gizzie and I went out back with the bartenders and waitresses to smoke/drink in the backyard moonlight. Rather than close down they lit candles and cut the price of beer in half. The guitar man played a few extra sets and we got well oiled. It was a good evening.
Everyone was in fine spirits this morning. Newport and the foreman ran around calling friends to get ready for a big festival at the statehouse tomorrow-- it's a party/political rally calling for the legalization of a certain substance. The boss was in a considerable amount of pain today, the problems of age have reined him down to a limp. So we took care of everything as he sat down for once. Viking had the day off-- Gizzie was the man of the store for today. More problems with the cooler, the air outside was cooler than within-- so we opened everything up. I stocked up the store with tomatoes and packed everything together for today's market. The foreman, Newport and I sifted through all the red peppers we had stowed away (8 boxes, each holding 4 bushels). Newport and I swept out the back and got the CSA all set up for this afternoon, then it was off to business.
The foreman and I rode the tractor up the hill to cut broccoli. He didn't have a care in the world-- the festival was tomorrow and his girlfriend was coming to stay the weekend, all was well. So the foreman was unusually talkative-- he told me about all the articles on broccoli harvesting techniques he'd been reading and took me through the cabbage/brussel sprouts/tomatoes/squash pouring out every tidbit of knowledge he'd every collected. Apparently frosts are good for the sprouts and broccoli-- each one actually sweetens the taste of the veggie. We eyed over the sprouts again-- they're moving slowly, dangerously slow. Hopefully they'll pick up and squeeze out a harvest for us. Then we got to work cutting broccoli. Most of the first heads are gone now and there hasn't been enough time for the plants to through out new buds. We managed to get 3 bushels.
Lunch time.
I'd seen a video of a mariachi who made a coke bottle into a trumpet-- so I made one over lunch and entertained Gizzie by playing every tune we could think off. Bah was very impressed.
After lunch the wholesaler rang up-- they were coming for another haul of tomatoes. The foreman and I ran down to the barn, it was time again for shining/sorting with Old Rudolpho and family. We got 83 boxes filled and loaded up for the truck.
The boss came down and sent us on new jobs: cut 8 bushels of green peppers, 1 crate of basil, 2 crates of beets and hunt through the cucumbers. Newport was making tomato sauce and baking pies all through today, so the foreman and I took off for the forest field. Solid work.
We returned to the store some hours later-- I cleaned/boxed everything and spruced up the CSA produce. The foreman set out to mow down weeds on the hilltop and cut a few trial butternut squash. The boss was handling payroll so Newport/Gizzie/I had a few cigarettes and kicked around the store. Something must be in the air as people were crazy for tomatoes today-- I stacked up and moved 200lbs worth in 1 hour of CSA.
Paychecks and homeward bound. Poor Gizzie was stuck manning the store/CSA into the late night. I bought him a sympathy soda. Maybe I'll join him for a purging late night beer, but maybe not. I'm up early tomorrow helping the boss around the farm-- I'm plotting/hoping to ambush him about some tractor lessons. Wish me luck and
Take it easy.
The hospital visit went well last night-- my cousin is getting out tonight, either he'll be released or his mom plans to sneak him out. Gizzie met me for a midnight meal, which quickly turned to a night at 'The End' bar. A few hours of conversation in and the power for half the city cut out. Gizzie and I went out back with the bartenders and waitresses to smoke/drink in the backyard moonlight. Rather than close down they lit candles and cut the price of beer in half. The guitar man played a few extra sets and we got well oiled. It was a good evening.
Everyone was in fine spirits this morning. Newport and the foreman ran around calling friends to get ready for a big festival at the statehouse tomorrow-- it's a party/political rally calling for the legalization of a certain substance. The boss was in a considerable amount of pain today, the problems of age have reined him down to a limp. So we took care of everything as he sat down for once. Viking had the day off-- Gizzie was the man of the store for today. More problems with the cooler, the air outside was cooler than within-- so we opened everything up. I stocked up the store with tomatoes and packed everything together for today's market. The foreman, Newport and I sifted through all the red peppers we had stowed away (8 boxes, each holding 4 bushels). Newport and I swept out the back and got the CSA all set up for this afternoon, then it was off to business.
The foreman and I rode the tractor up the hill to cut broccoli. He didn't have a care in the world-- the festival was tomorrow and his girlfriend was coming to stay the weekend, all was well. So the foreman was unusually talkative-- he told me about all the articles on broccoli harvesting techniques he'd been reading and took me through the cabbage/brussel sprouts/tomatoes/squash pouring out every tidbit of knowledge he'd every collected. Apparently frosts are good for the sprouts and broccoli-- each one actually sweetens the taste of the veggie. We eyed over the sprouts again-- they're moving slowly, dangerously slow. Hopefully they'll pick up and squeeze out a harvest for us. Then we got to work cutting broccoli. Most of the first heads are gone now and there hasn't been enough time for the plants to through out new buds. We managed to get 3 bushels.
Lunch time.
I'd seen a video of a mariachi who made a coke bottle into a trumpet-- so I made one over lunch and entertained Gizzie by playing every tune we could think off. Bah was very impressed.
After lunch the wholesaler rang up-- they were coming for another haul of tomatoes. The foreman and I ran down to the barn, it was time again for shining/sorting with Old Rudolpho and family. We got 83 boxes filled and loaded up for the truck.
The boss came down and sent us on new jobs: cut 8 bushels of green peppers, 1 crate of basil, 2 crates of beets and hunt through the cucumbers. Newport was making tomato sauce and baking pies all through today, so the foreman and I took off for the forest field. Solid work.
We returned to the store some hours later-- I cleaned/boxed everything and spruced up the CSA produce. The foreman set out to mow down weeds on the hilltop and cut a few trial butternut squash. The boss was handling payroll so Newport/Gizzie/I had a few cigarettes and kicked around the store. Something must be in the air as people were crazy for tomatoes today-- I stacked up and moved 200lbs worth in 1 hour of CSA.
Paychecks and homeward bound. Poor Gizzie was stuck manning the store/CSA into the late night. I bought him a sympathy soda. Maybe I'll join him for a purging late night beer, but maybe not. I'm up early tomorrow helping the boss around the farm-- I'm plotting/hoping to ambush him about some tractor lessons. Wish me luck and
Take it easy.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Tighten and Release
Mostly overcast today, steady rain showers blew off and on throughout the afternoon. The temperature peaked at 71F and has only danced lower-- tonight a serious cold front is passing through, overnight low of 41F... oh boy.
Everyone was in a sour mood this morning. The boss and the foreman marched around like lunatics-- peering over everyone's shoulder, finding mistakes even in the way Gizzie held the broom. We loaded up the store and started preparing the market boxes. Today we had: eggplant, red peppers (bell and bull), green peppers, cucumbers, corn, tomatoes, zucchini, string beans, lettuce, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, pies, jam, pints of cherry tomatoes and raspberries. We packed two sets of everything to cover today's double markets. The boss's daughter came by-- she was annoyed that someone rolled over/dropped her silver pumpkin abomination. Few tears were shed. Newport was unusually silent-- maybe affected by the tension. We washed, boxed and stacked the morning haul of summer squash/zucchini/cucumbers/eggplant. Soon enough the boss left with Newport, Gizzie and the daughter to setup the first market. I was left behind to get the CSA in order. Without all the tension-paranoia I tidied everything up and got the wagons loaded in no time. Viking and I chatted out back for a long time about farm plans/imaginary improvements we'd make if we were in charge (building a solid roof over the back, instead of a tarp awning, was the top idea). Gizzie and the boss finally returned-- we all took an early lunch.
Gizzie blew off a lot of steam as we ate our sandwiches-- the morning really bugged the hell out of him. He's not very good at hearing petty, un-constructive criticisms.
After lunch Gizzie and I finished off his market boxes/the CSA. Today's CSA had: broccoli, cabbage (red and green), corn, summer squash, zucchini, eggplant, red/green peppers, tons of lettuce, swiss chard, tons of potatoes, string beans, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes and cucumbers. Everything was set, so we packed up the van and it was off to market. The boss is pretty shaky on his feet ever since his doctor's appointment, so he had me drive to market and help Gizzie set everything up.
The sky rained down just as we pulled into the town square-- lucky that both Gizzie and I brought along rain slicks. We hustled around got everything nice and presentable. Gizzie is manning the fort alone these days, so I headed back to the farm.
I slogged through the mud up to the forest field, joining the foreman and Newport for eggplant picking. I tackled the fairy tale variety and kept moving along. We finished after a few hours-- piling all the buckets into the tractor. Before heading back we combed over the cantaloupe one last time-- we found very few stragglers.
Back at the store we refilled the CSA and boxed/chilled all our eggplant catch. Next up-- down to the barn to help Old Rudolpho and family shining tomatoes. The Guatemalans have warmed up to the three of us-- trading Spanish words for their English equivalents. Old Rudolpho joked around barking and pretending to eat the shirt off of his daughter's friend-- everyone laughed as she batted the old man away yelling 'loco anciano, loco anciano.' Big Jay-jay argued with his aunts over the proper words to describe the tomatoes' colors. I'm getting to the point where I pick up bigger parts of the conversation, understanding more of the jist of things. We shined away the rest of the day to closing.
Day is done, but there is still business left. My youngest cousin is in the hospital with a ruptured appendix-- serious stuff. He's getting older, but is understandably freaked out. I'm heading over in a few minutes and we're gonna celebrate his older sister's 16th birthday in the hospital room. A party is a party regardless of the setting-- so it's time to get lively.
I reckon there will be some repair beers with Gizzie late tonight at "The End' bar.
Take it easy.
Everyone was in a sour mood this morning. The boss and the foreman marched around like lunatics-- peering over everyone's shoulder, finding mistakes even in the way Gizzie held the broom. We loaded up the store and started preparing the market boxes. Today we had: eggplant, red peppers (bell and bull), green peppers, cucumbers, corn, tomatoes, zucchini, string beans, lettuce, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, pies, jam, pints of cherry tomatoes and raspberries. We packed two sets of everything to cover today's double markets. The boss's daughter came by-- she was annoyed that someone rolled over/dropped her silver pumpkin abomination. Few tears were shed. Newport was unusually silent-- maybe affected by the tension. We washed, boxed and stacked the morning haul of summer squash/zucchini/cucumbers/eggplant. Soon enough the boss left with Newport, Gizzie and the daughter to setup the first market. I was left behind to get the CSA in order. Without all the tension-paranoia I tidied everything up and got the wagons loaded in no time. Viking and I chatted out back for a long time about farm plans/imaginary improvements we'd make if we were in charge (building a solid roof over the back, instead of a tarp awning, was the top idea). Gizzie and the boss finally returned-- we all took an early lunch.
Gizzie blew off a lot of steam as we ate our sandwiches-- the morning really bugged the hell out of him. He's not very good at hearing petty, un-constructive criticisms.
After lunch Gizzie and I finished off his market boxes/the CSA. Today's CSA had: broccoli, cabbage (red and green), corn, summer squash, zucchini, eggplant, red/green peppers, tons of lettuce, swiss chard, tons of potatoes, string beans, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes and cucumbers. Everything was set, so we packed up the van and it was off to market. The boss is pretty shaky on his feet ever since his doctor's appointment, so he had me drive to market and help Gizzie set everything up.
The sky rained down just as we pulled into the town square-- lucky that both Gizzie and I brought along rain slicks. We hustled around got everything nice and presentable. Gizzie is manning the fort alone these days, so I headed back to the farm.
I slogged through the mud up to the forest field, joining the foreman and Newport for eggplant picking. I tackled the fairy tale variety and kept moving along. We finished after a few hours-- piling all the buckets into the tractor. Before heading back we combed over the cantaloupe one last time-- we found very few stragglers.
Back at the store we refilled the CSA and boxed/chilled all our eggplant catch. Next up-- down to the barn to help Old Rudolpho and family shining tomatoes. The Guatemalans have warmed up to the three of us-- trading Spanish words for their English equivalents. Old Rudolpho joked around barking and pretending to eat the shirt off of his daughter's friend-- everyone laughed as she batted the old man away yelling 'loco anciano, loco anciano.' Big Jay-jay argued with his aunts over the proper words to describe the tomatoes' colors. I'm getting to the point where I pick up bigger parts of the conversation, understanding more of the jist of things. We shined away the rest of the day to closing.
Day is done, but there is still business left. My youngest cousin is in the hospital with a ruptured appendix-- serious stuff. He's getting older, but is understandably freaked out. I'm heading over in a few minutes and we're gonna celebrate his older sister's 16th birthday in the hospital room. A party is a party regardless of the setting-- so it's time to get lively.
I reckon there will be some repair beers with Gizzie late tonight at "The End' bar.
Take it easy.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
The Harvest Moon
The Harvest Moon is out tonight. It's sure been a long day. Just got back from going out to dinner with a very old friend-- known him since before I could walk. Our parents grew up together and to a sporadic extent so did we. Now he's a reporter for a TV news station in the mid-west, working his way up the professional ladder. It's been some years since last we sat down. There could be a Mrs. in his near future and also a major promotion. Way to go my friend. There were many drinks had and even more ridiculous conversation/riotous laughing.
I'm a bit wooden faced from whiskey (my friend guzzles manhattans like water), but here we go:
Full sun and big towers of clouds all through the day. The temperature stuck to the mid 70Fs.
It was an action day. Gizzie and I sorted out tomatoes first thing this morning-- setting up 4 boxes of moskivich for a special customer and then filled out the store displays. Next up: we ferreted buckets between the barn and tomato fields before settling down to the big task-- picking the cherry tomatoes. Gizzie and I picked the cherries all morning (5 buckets? I think), finishing right around lunch time.
After lunch-- the foreman and Newport joined us pulling all the beets from the lower fields-- we filled 4 tall buckets. Then it was potato time-- 15 buckets (7 whites, 8 reds). Gizzie left early to go take some class, but the rest of us remained on the hilltop for long hours.
Near the day's end we rolled back to the store and sorted out everything: washed/boxed the potatoes, washed/clipped the beets and stacked the fall apple/peach delivery into the cooler. By the time everything was finished it was closing time. The potatoes really wiped me out today... But
Time for home, friends, drink and sleep.
More tomorrow, take it easy.
I'm a bit wooden faced from whiskey (my friend guzzles manhattans like water), but here we go:
Full sun and big towers of clouds all through the day. The temperature stuck to the mid 70Fs.
It was an action day. Gizzie and I sorted out tomatoes first thing this morning-- setting up 4 boxes of moskivich for a special customer and then filled out the store displays. Next up: we ferreted buckets between the barn and tomato fields before settling down to the big task-- picking the cherry tomatoes. Gizzie and I picked the cherries all morning (5 buckets? I think), finishing right around lunch time.
After lunch-- the foreman and Newport joined us pulling all the beets from the lower fields-- we filled 4 tall buckets. Then it was potato time-- 15 buckets (7 whites, 8 reds). Gizzie left early to go take some class, but the rest of us remained on the hilltop for long hours.
Near the day's end we rolled back to the store and sorted out everything: washed/boxed the potatoes, washed/clipped the beets and stacked the fall apple/peach delivery into the cooler. By the time everything was finished it was closing time. The potatoes really wiped me out today... But
Time for home, friends, drink and sleep.
More tomorrow, take it easy.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
PICTURE DAY-- Three Machines
Picture day! Here we go:
Front of the store. Pumpkin time is slowly getting started-- last year we had a sea of 'em laid out. It got to the point that people had trouble getting into the store-- just too many pumpkins. We'll pick once a week up until October, when things ramp up and we pull 'em all. On the table you can see the boss's daughter's handiwork. She carved a pumpkin and then spray painted it silver. I feel bad, but that monstrosity is horrendous
The view around the side of the store. I remember planting those sunflowers' seeds with NYU back in June. As you can see, today was a fine day to be out and about.
The tomato fields. Things have died down recently. Just the act of picking tramples down the plant-- the heavy rains only sped up the decay. Some varieties are still bearing fruit, but no new blooms. Oh well, these guys have had a long run-- they're the same plants I seeded with the boss in February. The tractor rows through the field are littered with rotten tomatoes-- removing the baddies from the plant interior lowers the risks of spreading further molds/fungus/rot/flies. On a hot day this whole place reeks with a strong sugar/tomato/soiled diaper scent.
.
The trellised cherry tomatoes are still going along nicely, except the weeds have grown into a dense jungle. The boss rented the machine on the right for the day-- and sent Newport out to wage war against all weeds.
The lower fields and the late-late season corn. Last time I posted pictures these guys were hardly more than a few inches tall. Now they're inches close to harvest. Late season corn varieties tend to grow a little shorter than most varieties-- I guess the short/compact build shores them up against the cooler weather in Fall.
Lower fields: Blueberries on the left, the day neutral strawberries in the middle and then that corn. Blueberries are long since dried up, but surprisingly enough the strawberries are still producing. We spent a lot of today trying to excavate these 3 rows from the weeds-- they've been overgrown during our month long tomato/corn blitz. It's been a long time since we last picked, but we could see a few quarts by the end of the week.
Middle of the Lower fields: The block of weeds on the left used to be the string beans. The chard and kale are still surviving, although the weed competition hasn't done them any favors. Beneath the 6ft weeds on the far right is a bed of beets we never bothered clearing. Wow, we've really been slacking off on our weeding. The boss plans on having the foreman mow down the weeds/beet greens so we can scoop up the roots. We'll see how that goes.
The far side of the Lower fields: there's the wagon of pipes the foreman and I stacked up the other day. Off towards the woods edge is the pumpkin patch.
The pumpkin patch! You can see the two major blocks of the field (left and right) separated by a tractor road. All of the pumpkins planted here are ornamental varieties-- mostly for carving and looking big/good. It's a big field this year, so hopefully people are itching for their Halloween fix.
Up close and personal with three pumpkins on the vine. As you can see, these ones aren't ready yet. The top, sun exposed, side turns orange first-- sometimes you can't gauge the ripeness without lifting the fella up for a peak at the bottom. The green veins will turn in a week or some, then three more pumpkins for the pile. The plant itself is formed like a squash plant (barbed stalks, wide raised leaves), but vines out like the cucumber plants.
A picturesque view of our pipe/trailer junkyard from the road up to the forest field.
The dead rows. Summer squash, Zucchini, Patty pan and Kousa on the left-- Cucumbers and pickling cukes on the right. Bah managed to fill 2 buckets worth of cucumbers last week, but that's been it. Their season has passed. After a couple more weeks (always holding out for a few straggling veggies) we'll mow down the plants and pull up the plastic wrap-- turning back to empty field.
The peppers are still going strong. These are the bell peppers-- red is fully mature, green is young. We pick both depending on the week-- reds are usually a little more expensive due to the increased risk/loss due to extra weeks on the plant.
The bull nosed peppers, or the Italian red pepper. They taste sweet-- great for salads, roasting, pickling, you name it. The boss's favorite.
Buried beneath more weeds are the remainders of the cantaloupe rows. It's getting empty out there, but we might squeeze out another week or two's worth of melon. We grew 2 types of cantaloupe this year-- these are the enormous monster sized variety. The smaller variety is planted down by the store. I prefer the small stuff-- it ripens a little slower, the big guys can turn to liquid in a day.
Far side of the forest field. Up close are the rows of fall-string beans. The blooms are out and the beans are forming-- looking good. Looks like Gizzie might still get the chance to suffer through a full day of squatting over a bean bucket. In the background you can see the weak basil fighting for survival-- then far down, are the trellis posts for the fall golden-cherry tomatoes.
Back to farm central. Here are the rows of Fall summer squash, zucchini and cucumbers-- right alongside the store and greenhouse. It's so close we can easily lug the full buckets right into the cooler. That's part of the harrow tractor attachment in the foreground there.
All cleaned and packed up, no more seedlings this year. Now the greenhouse has turned into the tractor garage-- we drive it in and then deal with all the upkeep/repair work. Morning watering duty is a distant memory these days.
Up to the hilltop! The giant novelty pumpkins are on their way. Last year we had two that reached 400lbs-- all the rain might push into uncharted pumpkin territory this year. In back: one of the horses is out going about her business.
The horses were feeling curious today. I was talking to a customer today about the horses and realized-- I have no idea what any of their names are. Newport decided Horse A and Horse B would do. I'm guessing Horse A is the one with the fancy haircut.
Checked the stone bridge on the way-- water is still high, but back within its banks. Look at the flood pictures from last week-- I would have been swept off in the rapids if I'd tried this picture then. Aside: the boss swears the bridge is safe, but rolling over it with several tons of tractor has made me a bit skeptical.
Blackberries, raspberries and the leaves are just starting to turn-- Fall's here.
Up top things are looking fine. The solid block of green on the left are the late season tomatoes-- not quite as many as the first round, but they'll do. The darker green rows in the center are the broccoli. The foreman and I ran up and filled 6 big boxes before the boss/Gizzie left for market. On the right (hidden with the light green sea) are a few beds of brussel sprouts and cabbage. The cabbage is well on its way, the sprouts are just hitting their growth spurt.
The kingdom of the hilltop corn. Old Rudolpho and family are working their way through these fields day by day. We should have corn well into October if the weather holds.
Between blocks of corn is the sugar-pumpkin patch. These are a smaller variety, but they taste a lot better than their ornamental cousins. We use most of these ourselves, baking up pumpkin pies in the kitchen. Its a big field this year, so I'm guessing the boss wants to sell a lot more to bakers and families. Can't wait to taste those pies.
Buttercup squash (hidden between corn fields). These little guys are great, the inside is a deep thick orange color and a lot sweeter than most squashes. The tough skin turns most people off to these guys-- I remember tearing my hands to shreds piling these guys up last year. They fatten up and out a bit more, so these aren't quite ripe yet.
The Butternut squash. We have a lot of butternut this year, 6 times more than last year. I didn't realize just how much we'd planted--whew harvest time is going to be crazy. 26 rows-- I remember weeding here for a week straight with the boys in late July.
Up close on the butternut. Not ripe yet, still too pale. They're big, just not ready. I said it earlier but: these squash taste best if they're left to ripen (as long as possible) on the vine. Fortunately, we wont have long to wait. The boss thinks we might begin hauling these guys off the hill next week.
The Potato corner. The bare patches are the rows we've pulled already-- the weeds cover over the potatoes we've yet to touch. So far we've only gotten reds and whites, but there are tons left and many different varieties. Fingerlings, yukons and many more are just waiting beneath the surface. The boss plans on having everything out of the ground in the first few weeks of October (in order to bet the frost)-- we'd better get started soon.
Potatoes in the foreground, the dead corn in the middle and the feed corn way off by the woods edge.
Corn, corn and more corn.
The view form the peach orchard.
That's all the photos for today. The day itself was pretty slow going. Once the boss and Gizzie left for market the dog work began. The foreman hitched up his mower attachment and cut down rows of weeds. Newport fired up the rented self-propelled mower and cleared out between the crop rows. I had the trimmer and ran around fine tuning everything. It took all day for me to clear around the strawberries, trellised tomatoes and the fields around the store. Newport and I commiserated beneath the back awning at the end of the day-- we'd killed quite a few tomato plants while trying to cut back the weed walls. Oh well.
It was a good hard day.
That's it for now, take it easy.
.
That's all the photos for today. The day itself was pretty slow going. Once the boss and Gizzie left for market the dog work began. The foreman hitched up his mower attachment and cut down rows of weeds. Newport fired up the rented self-propelled mower and cleared out between the crop rows. I had the trimmer and ran around fine tuning everything. It took all day for me to clear around the strawberries, trellised tomatoes and the fields around the store. Newport and I commiserated beneath the back awning at the end of the day-- we'd killed quite a few tomato plants while trying to cut back the weed walls. Oh well.
It was a good hard day.
That's it for now, take it easy.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Trouble Ahead, Trouble Behind
Back again, and this time for good. I can go a couple days without writing-- but I've been getting a little crazy without the outlet for brain exhaust. So, it's back to the Monday-Friday.
I planned on writing something up for my Saturday as farm king-- unfortunately, things went a bit for the worse.
I got in at daybreak, beating Bah and Old Rudolpho for once. I cleaned up the back and got the CSA all set up, then tidied up/stocked the store. Viking arrived and the day went fine until an hour before closing. It all started in the tomato fields-- the van got swamped in the mud. I loaded up the days picking and after some 'creative' steering maneuvers, I managed to wiggle the van back to the road. The store/cooler was running low on eggplant, so I swung by the forest field to cut a few quick buckets-- when I found 18 buckets full of red peppers sitting in the sun. It was clear they'd been there a long while, over a day, the boss/foreman must have forgotten 'em. I squeezed the buckets alongside the tomatoes and fresh eggplant-- it was time to straighten out the mess. I unloaded the tomatoes into the barn, handed off the eggplant to Viking and then started sifting through the pepper buckets for the keepers. I managed to salvage 2 boxes worth, but the rest were rotted to paste (into the compost with 'em). It was past closing with only one job to go-- I drove up around the hilltop and loaded in the last trays of raspberries from Bah.
As I walked into the store with the trays I caught Viking retching beside one of the freezers. She'd been sifting through the raspberries from earlier this morning and found them seething with maggots. I nearly had a heart attack-- I pulled all the berries and locked them up in the walk-in cooler: not another pint would be sold until the boss came back from vacation. I peeked into the buckets of mashed-raspberries-for-jam, it was even worse. The maggots covered the entire bucket over in a writhing mass. It seems luck isn't with us. The boss had told me last week-- he'd been talking with other local farmers at a bureau meeting and their orchards/berry fields/fruit had been completely infested. The hurricanes and storms had blown fruit fly populations up from the south-- and they've burrowed into everything to lay their maggot-eggs.
I was real down on myself. Of course, shit had to hit the fan under my watch. Worse still, I felt bad for the boss-- his first time leaving the farm since May and hell boiled over. It took a long number of beers at "The End" bar with Gizzie for us to drown out the sorrows.
But onward. On to today.
Monday
Full sun all day, there was talk of isolated thunderstorms blowing through but we were spared. The temperature made it to the low 80Fs.
I got the boss up to speed on the weekend's happenings. In a moment of inspiration on Saturday, I took a few hours to scrub clean the CSA wagons/power wash the back deck/organize the shipping boxes, pick crates & the trash/reorganized the cooler and the barn. The boss was nearly pleased, but the berry-blight put a damper on his mood. We sifted through the pints and pitched out a large number of infested berries. Fortunately, one of the fields seems to have been miraculously spared-- at least some berries are still clean.
Gizzie and I went through the cooler tossing out the bad lettuce and re-hydrating the heads good enough to keep. We washed a small haul of zucchini, summer squash, cucumbers and pickling cukes-- the main fields are rapidly dying back. The second round fields of summer squash/zukes/cukes are small and will hardly cover the store, much less the CSA-- but what can you do. We ran around getting the kitchen stocked up for Newport-- he had a day full of salsa/tomato sauce making ahead of him. The foreman and I rode the tractor down to the lower fields and cut 1 crate worth of chard/1 crate of Dinosaur and Red Boar kale.
The boss was itching to get around and check the state of the farm since he'd been gone (even 2 days absence is too much for him)-- so he brought Gizzie, the foreman and I up to the forest field. The foreman hunted around for stray cantaloupe (not many to be found).The boss filled a few buckets worth of eggplant, while Gizzie and I tried to fill a case with some sad looking basil. The 2 1/2 basil rows are real stressed-- most of the leaves have turned yellow and some plants have sprinted into early maturity. A good number of the leaves have started to blacken-- almost like they'd been hit with a frost. The boss wasn't sure what to do about it-- we'll just have to let the ground dry out and see what happens.
Back at the store, Gizzie and the foreman marched out to hunt more cantaloupe in the rows alongside the tomatoes. I let the basil soak and stuffed the lettuce back in the cooler.
Another minor heart attack this morning. When we walked into the cooler it was mysteriously warm. After some investigating we found that the fans had stopped turning. Over the course of a few panicked hours-- the boss flipped the fuses a couple times and the problem sorted itself out. Whew.
Lunch time. Trouble's all behind.
Gizzie and I had a leisurely lunch out on the wagon in the grass field. After a few smokes it was back to work. The boss's daughter was covering the store today, but she fell-ill so Gizzie stepped in to man the register. Poor guy, he missed all the fun.
The boss hitched up the tractor to the flat wagon, the foreman and I followed behind-- we headed out to the lower fields to pull out the irrigation pipes from the strawberries/former bean rows/chard & kale rows. The boss is planning on renting a heavy-duty commercial mower tomorrow to clear down the weeds/dead crops (so the pipes had to get outta there). We had a 5ft pile of pipes by the time we ditched the wagon along the stonewall. Next up, we sauntered over to the pumpkin fields to start the weekly hunt. We have 2 large blocks planted on the far side of the lower fields. The block near the woods edge was severely chewed over by the deers and vermin--the other block was in perfect shape. We hunted out the perfect pumpkins-- all orange, with as little green veining/stripes as possible. We use heavy duty shears to slice through the stems-- people like their stems long and hearty, so that's how we cut 'em. We easily filled the front loader before turning back to store to arrange the pumpkins out front.
I chatted around with Gizzie, while the boss sorted out his business. Gizzie had gone up to the hilltop with the boss this morning and they rode around checking the state of things-- the winter squash is nearly set to go. The butternut is fully formed, ready to pick today, but the boss says the taste improves greatly the longer you allow it ripen on the vine-- we'll start grabbing it up next week. The acorn and buttercup squash seemed to be doing well too. I horsed around with Gizzie for a good amount of time, but then it was back to the fields. I hitched the sprayer up to the tractor for the foreman and went on my way.
We'd run clean out of cherry tomatoes, so I hiked down with some buckets and picked away the rest of the day. I managed to get 3 full buckets of goldens and another 2 tall buckets worth of the reds. Somewhere along the line I went a little crazy-- out in the sun too long. Time must have passed in my tomato madness. Newport strolled down to tell me closing time had come and gone. Over some long tired cigarettes we kicked stones back and forth, going over today's jobs aloud-- it was a hell of a full day. I waved Newport off, paid my sad respects to Gizzie (who had a late night at the store ahead of him-- beers at The End may be necessary again), and then I headed home.
Feels good getting back into the writing swing. I want a picture day this week, badly. These early weeks of September are the teetering days-- I like to call it high summer. The last gasps of warm days and late sun, right before the pitch into changing leaves and cold winds. I'd say it's one of the top perks of this job: being outside to watch day by day as Winter goes to Spring goes to Summer goes to Fall. And it doesn't get any better than high summer. Winter will be around too soon and everything will be dead again.
Drink it while it lasts.
Take it easy.
I planned on writing something up for my Saturday as farm king-- unfortunately, things went a bit for the worse.
I got in at daybreak, beating Bah and Old Rudolpho for once. I cleaned up the back and got the CSA all set up, then tidied up/stocked the store. Viking arrived and the day went fine until an hour before closing. It all started in the tomato fields-- the van got swamped in the mud. I loaded up the days picking and after some 'creative' steering maneuvers, I managed to wiggle the van back to the road. The store/cooler was running low on eggplant, so I swung by the forest field to cut a few quick buckets-- when I found 18 buckets full of red peppers sitting in the sun. It was clear they'd been there a long while, over a day, the boss/foreman must have forgotten 'em. I squeezed the buckets alongside the tomatoes and fresh eggplant-- it was time to straighten out the mess. I unloaded the tomatoes into the barn, handed off the eggplant to Viking and then started sifting through the pepper buckets for the keepers. I managed to salvage 2 boxes worth, but the rest were rotted to paste (into the compost with 'em). It was past closing with only one job to go-- I drove up around the hilltop and loaded in the last trays of raspberries from Bah.
As I walked into the store with the trays I caught Viking retching beside one of the freezers. She'd been sifting through the raspberries from earlier this morning and found them seething with maggots. I nearly had a heart attack-- I pulled all the berries and locked them up in the walk-in cooler: not another pint would be sold until the boss came back from vacation. I peeked into the buckets of mashed-raspberries-for-jam, it was even worse. The maggots covered the entire bucket over in a writhing mass. It seems luck isn't with us. The boss had told me last week-- he'd been talking with other local farmers at a bureau meeting and their orchards/berry fields/fruit had been completely infested. The hurricanes and storms had blown fruit fly populations up from the south-- and they've burrowed into everything to lay their maggot-eggs.
I was real down on myself. Of course, shit had to hit the fan under my watch. Worse still, I felt bad for the boss-- his first time leaving the farm since May and hell boiled over. It took a long number of beers at "The End" bar with Gizzie for us to drown out the sorrows.
But onward. On to today.
Monday
Full sun all day, there was talk of isolated thunderstorms blowing through but we were spared. The temperature made it to the low 80Fs.
I got the boss up to speed on the weekend's happenings. In a moment of inspiration on Saturday, I took a few hours to scrub clean the CSA wagons/power wash the back deck/organize the shipping boxes, pick crates & the trash/reorganized the cooler and the barn. The boss was nearly pleased, but the berry-blight put a damper on his mood. We sifted through the pints and pitched out a large number of infested berries. Fortunately, one of the fields seems to have been miraculously spared-- at least some berries are still clean.
Gizzie and I went through the cooler tossing out the bad lettuce and re-hydrating the heads good enough to keep. We washed a small haul of zucchini, summer squash, cucumbers and pickling cukes-- the main fields are rapidly dying back. The second round fields of summer squash/zukes/cukes are small and will hardly cover the store, much less the CSA-- but what can you do. We ran around getting the kitchen stocked up for Newport-- he had a day full of salsa/tomato sauce making ahead of him. The foreman and I rode the tractor down to the lower fields and cut 1 crate worth of chard/1 crate of Dinosaur and Red Boar kale.
The boss was itching to get around and check the state of the farm since he'd been gone (even 2 days absence is too much for him)-- so he brought Gizzie, the foreman and I up to the forest field. The foreman hunted around for stray cantaloupe (not many to be found).The boss filled a few buckets worth of eggplant, while Gizzie and I tried to fill a case with some sad looking basil. The 2 1/2 basil rows are real stressed-- most of the leaves have turned yellow and some plants have sprinted into early maturity. A good number of the leaves have started to blacken-- almost like they'd been hit with a frost. The boss wasn't sure what to do about it-- we'll just have to let the ground dry out and see what happens.
Back at the store, Gizzie and the foreman marched out to hunt more cantaloupe in the rows alongside the tomatoes. I let the basil soak and stuffed the lettuce back in the cooler.
Another minor heart attack this morning. When we walked into the cooler it was mysteriously warm. After some investigating we found that the fans had stopped turning. Over the course of a few panicked hours-- the boss flipped the fuses a couple times and the problem sorted itself out. Whew.
Lunch time. Trouble's all behind.
Gizzie and I had a leisurely lunch out on the wagon in the grass field. After a few smokes it was back to work. The boss's daughter was covering the store today, but she fell-ill so Gizzie stepped in to man the register. Poor guy, he missed all the fun.
The boss hitched up the tractor to the flat wagon, the foreman and I followed behind-- we headed out to the lower fields to pull out the irrigation pipes from the strawberries/former bean rows/chard & kale rows. The boss is planning on renting a heavy-duty commercial mower tomorrow to clear down the weeds/dead crops (so the pipes had to get outta there). We had a 5ft pile of pipes by the time we ditched the wagon along the stonewall. Next up, we sauntered over to the pumpkin fields to start the weekly hunt. We have 2 large blocks planted on the far side of the lower fields. The block near the woods edge was severely chewed over by the deers and vermin--the other block was in perfect shape. We hunted out the perfect pumpkins-- all orange, with as little green veining/stripes as possible. We use heavy duty shears to slice through the stems-- people like their stems long and hearty, so that's how we cut 'em. We easily filled the front loader before turning back to store to arrange the pumpkins out front.
I chatted around with Gizzie, while the boss sorted out his business. Gizzie had gone up to the hilltop with the boss this morning and they rode around checking the state of things-- the winter squash is nearly set to go. The butternut is fully formed, ready to pick today, but the boss says the taste improves greatly the longer you allow it ripen on the vine-- we'll start grabbing it up next week. The acorn and buttercup squash seemed to be doing well too. I horsed around with Gizzie for a good amount of time, but then it was back to the fields. I hitched the sprayer up to the tractor for the foreman and went on my way.
We'd run clean out of cherry tomatoes, so I hiked down with some buckets and picked away the rest of the day. I managed to get 3 full buckets of goldens and another 2 tall buckets worth of the reds. Somewhere along the line I went a little crazy-- out in the sun too long. Time must have passed in my tomato madness. Newport strolled down to tell me closing time had come and gone. Over some long tired cigarettes we kicked stones back and forth, going over today's jobs aloud-- it was a hell of a full day. I waved Newport off, paid my sad respects to Gizzie (who had a late night at the store ahead of him-- beers at The End may be necessary again), and then I headed home.
Feels good getting back into the writing swing. I want a picture day this week, badly. These early weeks of September are the teetering days-- I like to call it high summer. The last gasps of warm days and late sun, right before the pitch into changing leaves and cold winds. I'd say it's one of the top perks of this job: being outside to watch day by day as Winter goes to Spring goes to Summer goes to Fall. And it doesn't get any better than high summer. Winter will be around too soon and everything will be dead again.
Drink it while it lasts.
Take it easy.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Bold and Boulder (FLOOD PICTURES)
I'm back. To tell you the truth I'd just about given up on all this posting hassle-- but some friend's wishes you just can't refuse. Here's to you Moatse, across the seven seas. As for all you others, you may as well stick around too. Ehehehe.
It's been quite a week, here's the quick and thick of it.
I got back from a fine and furious seaside 3-day weekend of drink, porches and the good company of Darlin/many friends. It felt strange climbing back into the farm skin-- one long weekend was all it took for me to go soft. So I came back and got real sick. Maybe I smoked too many cigarettes or maybe it was just my time, but either way there's no rest for the sickly.
And these past few days have been the wettest so far-- heavy rain, then heavy mists followed by heavy rain. Doesn't help that the soil was over saturated to begin with. So, I steeled up and dragged my shivering deflated-muscle-bag of a self through the wet. Newport, Gizzie and I spent a long time shining/sorting tomatoes and washing/prepping/juicing/boiling tomatoes. Tuesday was a straight downpour-- Gizzie went off to the big money market with the boss, while Newport and I were left behind to slog 15 buckets of potatoes out of the mud. I slumped through Wednesday in a feverish zombie daze, can't really remember what happened but it must have been wet.
So on to today already! And onto the pictures already.
Thursday
Steady rain in the morning, weather broke at noon into an intermittent mist. Temperature started at 55F but rose to the low 60Fs.
I'm feeling much better today, the sick has peaked and I can think/talk straight again. Gizzie and I joined the Foreman/Newport down at the horse pond to check this out:
The springs/streams had become torrents, the pond poured over the dam in a constant rapid-wave (see picture below). The tractor bridge was a good 3ft below the water. Half the cow pasture was submerged (ps. another calf born in the storm last night). What a mess.
Gizzie and I spent the morning in the kitchen quartering up/de-stemming tomatoes for sauce. Newport was outside, soaked to the bone, setting up the CSA and market boxes. Out of pity we ran out too. We were drenched in seconds. Double market was today, but one canceled-- Gizzie prayed his would be too, but no luck. He shipped out with the boss after lunch, he would prove to be the lucky one.
After lunch Newport and I piled onto the tractor, and with the foreman, we forded across the water-bridge up to the hilltop to cut broccoli in the rain. The soil up top was water-logged and soft, every step sunk us mid-way up our calves in mud-- we used hoes to drag ourselves up and forward step-by-step. One bed of broccoli was on firm ground, but in bad shape (overdeveloped bunches/started flowering)-- the other bed was in fantastic shape (enormous/perfectly developed), but surrounded in swamp-mire. We filled 10 bushel boxes-- and then piled up mounds of broccoli on top of little beds made from the plant's broad leaves. We packed the tractor's front loader and cab full-- it was a slow and painful ride back.
Next, we rolled out to the lower fields to pick the first pumpkins. It's still a bit early, but the foreman wants to start building up our store supply ahead of the fall season. We couldn't find too many( ~20+).
Back to the kitchen and more tomato prepping. A major haul/delivery came in today packing the cooler full to scary new heights. Delivered: 12 boxes of loose leaf lettuce, 4 boxes red leaf lettuce, 10 boxes romaine, 5 boxes of spinach. Picked/washed/boxed: 16 big boxes of bull nose red peppers, 11 big boxes of red bell peppers, 3 boxes of fairytale, 1 box big & oriental eggplant. Between all that-- the 15 boxes of potatoes we pulled, the cantaloupe, cukes and squashes-- its packed in towers to the ceiling.
The crew has been out all week on account of the weather-- needing the money, they begged to come in today. Bah looked like he was wearing a tent and Old Rudopho was dressed in full lobster-fisherman regalia.
Today was the foreman's birthday-- he wasn't too thrilled. Newport wanted to take him out for a drink and asked me to come along-- I said, of course-- but the foreman just wanted to go home. So as a birthday gift, I took his late shift today and stayed late. I sat around chatting with the boss a long time-- he's taking his first days off since May this weekend and I'm gonna watch the farm. And he wants me in the tractor-- I have finally arrived! He wished that he'd spent some time training me, but figures we might try a tractor crash course tomorrow. The boss had a doctor's appointment this morning and it went okay-- just okay. He looked and walked a lot older this evening. We picked up Gizzie and packed in the market load/CSA.
Home and Dry.
More Rambling:
There's been a lot going on and to be frank-- it's hard to bring it all together coherently. Gizzie and I have been meeting up for late-night-weekday drinks. We go to a place far behind the train yard (far away from the noise/college drunks), it has pink neon signs in the window that say "This is It" and "The End." It is nice. No loud music is played, there's no scrambling to catch the bartender's eye, the back porch is secluded/ encased with trees. We sit, talk, have a few beers and smoke. At closing, we help the waitress clean out the ashtrays and then go home. We talk about the farm and about people in general. There's a lot to be said/learned about both.
But maybe that's for tomorrow.
Take it easy.
It's been quite a week, here's the quick and thick of it.
I got back from a fine and furious seaside 3-day weekend of drink, porches and the good company of Darlin/many friends. It felt strange climbing back into the farm skin-- one long weekend was all it took for me to go soft. So I came back and got real sick. Maybe I smoked too many cigarettes or maybe it was just my time, but either way there's no rest for the sickly.
And these past few days have been the wettest so far-- heavy rain, then heavy mists followed by heavy rain. Doesn't help that the soil was over saturated to begin with. So, I steeled up and dragged my shivering deflated-muscle-bag of a self through the wet. Newport, Gizzie and I spent a long time shining/sorting tomatoes and washing/prepping/juicing/boiling tomatoes. Tuesday was a straight downpour-- Gizzie went off to the big money market with the boss, while Newport and I were left behind to slog 15 buckets of potatoes out of the mud. I slumped through Wednesday in a feverish zombie daze, can't really remember what happened but it must have been wet.
So on to today already! And onto the pictures already.
Thursday
Steady rain in the morning, weather broke at noon into an intermittent mist. Temperature started at 55F but rose to the low 60Fs.
I'm feeling much better today, the sick has peaked and I can think/talk straight again. Gizzie and I joined the Foreman/Newport down at the horse pond to check this out:
The springs/streams had become torrents, the pond poured over the dam in a constant rapid-wave (see picture below). The tractor bridge was a good 3ft below the water. Half the cow pasture was submerged (ps. another calf born in the storm last night). What a mess.
,
Gizzie and I spent the morning in the kitchen quartering up/de-stemming tomatoes for sauce. Newport was outside, soaked to the bone, setting up the CSA and market boxes. Out of pity we ran out too. We were drenched in seconds. Double market was today, but one canceled-- Gizzie prayed his would be too, but no luck. He shipped out with the boss after lunch, he would prove to be the lucky one.
After lunch Newport and I piled onto the tractor, and with the foreman, we forded across the water-bridge up to the hilltop to cut broccoli in the rain. The soil up top was water-logged and soft, every step sunk us mid-way up our calves in mud-- we used hoes to drag ourselves up and forward step-by-step. One bed of broccoli was on firm ground, but in bad shape (overdeveloped bunches/started flowering)-- the other bed was in fantastic shape (enormous/perfectly developed), but surrounded in swamp-mire. We filled 10 bushel boxes-- and then piled up mounds of broccoli on top of little beds made from the plant's broad leaves. We packed the tractor's front loader and cab full-- it was a slow and painful ride back.
Next, we rolled out to the lower fields to pick the first pumpkins. It's still a bit early, but the foreman wants to start building up our store supply ahead of the fall season. We couldn't find too many( ~20+).
Back to the kitchen and more tomato prepping. A major haul/delivery came in today packing the cooler full to scary new heights. Delivered: 12 boxes of loose leaf lettuce, 4 boxes red leaf lettuce, 10 boxes romaine, 5 boxes of spinach. Picked/washed/boxed: 16 big boxes of bull nose red peppers, 11 big boxes of red bell peppers, 3 boxes of fairytale, 1 box big & oriental eggplant. Between all that-- the 15 boxes of potatoes we pulled, the cantaloupe, cukes and squashes-- its packed in towers to the ceiling.
The crew has been out all week on account of the weather-- needing the money, they begged to come in today. Bah looked like he was wearing a tent and Old Rudopho was dressed in full lobster-fisherman regalia.
Today was the foreman's birthday-- he wasn't too thrilled. Newport wanted to take him out for a drink and asked me to come along-- I said, of course-- but the foreman just wanted to go home. So as a birthday gift, I took his late shift today and stayed late. I sat around chatting with the boss a long time-- he's taking his first days off since May this weekend and I'm gonna watch the farm. And he wants me in the tractor-- I have finally arrived! He wished that he'd spent some time training me, but figures we might try a tractor crash course tomorrow. The boss had a doctor's appointment this morning and it went okay-- just okay. He looked and walked a lot older this evening. We picked up Gizzie and packed in the market load/CSA.
Home and Dry.
More Rambling:
There's been a lot going on and to be frank-- it's hard to bring it all together coherently. Gizzie and I have been meeting up for late-night-weekday drinks. We go to a place far behind the train yard (far away from the noise/college drunks), it has pink neon signs in the window that say "This is It" and "The End." It is nice. No loud music is played, there's no scrambling to catch the bartender's eye, the back porch is secluded/ encased with trees. We sit, talk, have a few beers and smoke. At closing, we help the waitress clean out the ashtrays and then go home. We talk about the farm and about people in general. There's a lot to be said/learned about both.
But maybe that's for tomorrow.
Take it easy.
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