Snowed out yesterday, boss called early and said don't bother getting out of bed. Fiddled away the day getting things straightened out-- then chopped up a few logs to stock up the fireplace for the weekend. Only took one day without work to drive me crazy. Pretty rough sign of things to come-- maybe a week or so left. Met up with Gizzie at "The End" bar around midnight to polish up a few more scripts-- a few of 'em are looking pretty damn good.
Today
Sunny all day through, but took most of the day to warm up-- a good inch or two of snow covered the fields (most melted away by one or two in the afternoon). Cold winds, cold air. The temperature hung at 34F all morning-- afternoon high managed to reach 45F.
Rough jobs today, but they passed mostly pleasant. Started off with the foreman clearing away the last tractor attachments and bits of machinery surrounding the greenhouse (gotta be wide open before any serious snow). The real business began soon after-- Gizzie and I sharpened an edge to the maul and started whacking away at the lumber pile. As I might of mentioned before, the boss lives in his underground bungalow-- so he's pretty heat efficient, only takes a wood stove to keep him and his family through winter. But it certainly takes a good load of wood. Gizzie and I traded back and forth-- one chopping, one rolling in new logs. Many cigarettes and bullshit was had. We filled the tractor's front loader up three times before lunch (and the foreman hauled each load off to the boss's wood shed).
Swinging an ax takes a lot outta ya.
Things changed after lunch. Chopping was fine enough, but the boss had other plans. With the snow mostly melted he figured that Newport and I should get started on pulling the plastic wrap outta the fields. Sad work. We started with the closest field-- the late season zucchini/squash/pickling cukes/2nd cantaloupe rows running alongside the greenhouse. First things first-- we hoed up the soil along either side of each row. Then we got down on our knees and pulled the wrap out-- fistful by fistful. Wind, weather, picking, vermin and planting has shredded up most of the plastic-mulch-sheets by now-- all the same, progress was slow.
The boss and the foreman continued on splitting wood, Gizzie baked out a few pies/cooked the last round of tomato sauce in the kitchen-- Newport and I kept on with the plastic through the rest of the day. In five hours we manged to clear 8 rows worth. Not much at all. Told Newport-- hell, at this rate we'll still have a job into next weekend. Plastic wrap left: 2 rows in the 2nd cantaloupe, 25 long tomato rows, 23 short rows of cherry tomatoes, 3 rows of basil, 5 peppers, 3 eggplant, 3 long summer squash/zucchini/patty pan, then also the cucumber and the pickling cuke rows up in the forest fields. 68 plastic rows (of varying length) to go.
Muddy day ended just in time. Half frozen, we joined up with the boss and foreman to stack the last load of firewood. Day was done.
On the bus now, on my way to Darlin for the weekend. We'll see what next week brings. There's another storm due this Saturday, the numbers are all over the place, but some claim up to 6-10 inches will fall. That complicates things. We still don't have a thorough frost, so once everything melts off we can continue ripping up plastic-- if it melts off. Either way-- I can't pull up what I can't see, so the boss said (depending on the snowfall) take a long weekend and see Darlin. Can't argue with that. The plastic will still be there waiting when I get back.
Off to it then. Take it easy.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Slow Down Willy Boy
Lousy weather today, worse promised for tomorrow. Spotty rain and mist this morning gave way to cold dry clouds in the afternoon. The highest temperature today was 45F.
Late start this morning-- had to go to my doctor appointment. And so far so good-- now I know what I don't have: it's probably not a tetanus infection or the flu. To be safe he gave me the flu shot and a tetanus/whooping cough vaccine-- he also took some big blood samples to run by the lab. Unfortunately I'm a high risk case for Lyme disease-- so crossed fingers waiting on those test results.
After the appointment I pulled on my boots and got to work.
Clean up day. Pulled in and gave Newport a hand cleaning up the produce wagons/yard. All the remaining tomatoes have been piled into the store displays-- so we joined the foreman in clearing/cleaning out the entire workshop/storage area of the barn. Spotless. We wheeled down all the produce wagons, extra tables and market tents. Everything needed to be organized-- shipping supplies all in one place, tools in another, extra cardboard elsewhere, etc, etc. Newport and I climbed up through the barn and cleaned up the general supply 'area'-- then we dragged up all the salvageable pick crates and bushel boxes/baskets. The greenhouse was next-- all the steel/iron cultivator drags and odd pipe pieces needed to be stacked inside and organized. The boss brought down 20 some bushel boxes-- we sifted through the remaining winter squash and made two piles. One: perfect-ish squash we might be able to sell (got 1 box of butternut, 3 buttercup), Two: less that perfect squash to donate to the local food bank (10 boxes of butternut, 6 boxes of buttercup). The remaining squash were junk and headed to the compost. The foreman and I got busy making tractor trips back and forth, loading all the tractor's attachments into the barn (the water pump, seeder, fertilizer spreader, spray tanks all had to be inside). Lunch time.
Had a 15 minute lunch and then watched the store for the boss.
Back to work. Newport and I took down the back awning and folded it up-- took it and all the other loose tarps into the barn. We swept up the back area, put away all the dollies and stuffed back the trash cans. The foreman came back from lunch and we started the heavy work. The three of us stomped through the tomato fields and dragged out all the irrigation piping-- the 4in arteries and 2in water gun lines were stacked up along the side of the store. Newport and I wrestled out the big acre-sized gun-- hefting it up alongside the pipe pile. The foreman brought round the tractor and wagon-- time to pull the tomato trellises. We headed down to the bottom of the tomato field and began the painstaking process of separating, untangling and coiling up all the lengths of wire. After kicking out the stakes, the dog work began. The foreman inched along the tractor while Newport/I kicked each trellis post loose, ripped it from the ground and tossed them into the front loader. It took 5 full bucket loads of posts to clear the field-- hard, but quick work.
Newport and I stomped up to the forest field to deal with the forgotten 2nd round cherry tomatoes. Newport was bitter-- he and the foreman had planted the tomatoes and sunk in the posts, except things got busy. We never got around to wiring up the plants or even picking them-- the cherries just grew wild and rotted. It was a shame. We staggered down the line and kicked out a front loader's worth of posts and tossed on the unused coils of wire. And that was it.
Newport was inches away from a panic attack all day as bill collectors phoned him up one after another reminding him of missed payments. After one call too many he threw down a few coils of wire and just started yelling, then he said-- I just don't know what the hell they expect, it's the middle of a recession and I know what I don't have, but this is too much. I fed Newport cigarettes as he sulked about trying to avoid the foreman-- they were at each others throats about something. Pulling out the posts evened things out a bit-- everyone was fine by the time we all sat around the store chatting with the boss about tomorrow. Weatherman is calling for heavy rains tonight through tomorrow, then afternoon snow flurries. All the inside work is completely finished, so we're all waiting on the phone call tomorrow-- waiting to see if we get to work/get paid. Lots of field clean up remains, but this is it-- the final stretch.
Might not work through the end of next week. Gizzie could be let go even sooner. This season flipped off like a light switch-- it's all ending much too fast. Can hardly make sense of it and wrap my head around what comes next.
Take it easy.
Late start this morning-- had to go to my doctor appointment. And so far so good-- now I know what I don't have: it's probably not a tetanus infection or the flu. To be safe he gave me the flu shot and a tetanus/whooping cough vaccine-- he also took some big blood samples to run by the lab. Unfortunately I'm a high risk case for Lyme disease-- so crossed fingers waiting on those test results.
After the appointment I pulled on my boots and got to work.
Clean up day. Pulled in and gave Newport a hand cleaning up the produce wagons/yard. All the remaining tomatoes have been piled into the store displays-- so we joined the foreman in clearing/cleaning out the entire workshop/storage area of the barn. Spotless. We wheeled down all the produce wagons, extra tables and market tents. Everything needed to be organized-- shipping supplies all in one place, tools in another, extra cardboard elsewhere, etc, etc. Newport and I climbed up through the barn and cleaned up the general supply 'area'-- then we dragged up all the salvageable pick crates and bushel boxes/baskets. The greenhouse was next-- all the steel/iron cultivator drags and odd pipe pieces needed to be stacked inside and organized. The boss brought down 20 some bushel boxes-- we sifted through the remaining winter squash and made two piles. One: perfect-ish squash we might be able to sell (got 1 box of butternut, 3 buttercup), Two: less that perfect squash to donate to the local food bank (10 boxes of butternut, 6 boxes of buttercup). The remaining squash were junk and headed to the compost. The foreman and I got busy making tractor trips back and forth, loading all the tractor's attachments into the barn (the water pump, seeder, fertilizer spreader, spray tanks all had to be inside). Lunch time.
Had a 15 minute lunch and then watched the store for the boss.
Back to work. Newport and I took down the back awning and folded it up-- took it and all the other loose tarps into the barn. We swept up the back area, put away all the dollies and stuffed back the trash cans. The foreman came back from lunch and we started the heavy work. The three of us stomped through the tomato fields and dragged out all the irrigation piping-- the 4in arteries and 2in water gun lines were stacked up along the side of the store. Newport and I wrestled out the big acre-sized gun-- hefting it up alongside the pipe pile. The foreman brought round the tractor and wagon-- time to pull the tomato trellises. We headed down to the bottom of the tomato field and began the painstaking process of separating, untangling and coiling up all the lengths of wire. After kicking out the stakes, the dog work began. The foreman inched along the tractor while Newport/I kicked each trellis post loose, ripped it from the ground and tossed them into the front loader. It took 5 full bucket loads of posts to clear the field-- hard, but quick work.
Newport and I stomped up to the forest field to deal with the forgotten 2nd round cherry tomatoes. Newport was bitter-- he and the foreman had planted the tomatoes and sunk in the posts, except things got busy. We never got around to wiring up the plants or even picking them-- the cherries just grew wild and rotted. It was a shame. We staggered down the line and kicked out a front loader's worth of posts and tossed on the unused coils of wire. And that was it.
Newport was inches away from a panic attack all day as bill collectors phoned him up one after another reminding him of missed payments. After one call too many he threw down a few coils of wire and just started yelling, then he said-- I just don't know what the hell they expect, it's the middle of a recession and I know what I don't have, but this is too much. I fed Newport cigarettes as he sulked about trying to avoid the foreman-- they were at each others throats about something. Pulling out the posts evened things out a bit-- everyone was fine by the time we all sat around the store chatting with the boss about tomorrow. Weatherman is calling for heavy rains tonight through tomorrow, then afternoon snow flurries. All the inside work is completely finished, so we're all waiting on the phone call tomorrow-- waiting to see if we get to work/get paid. Lots of field clean up remains, but this is it-- the final stretch.
Might not work through the end of next week. Gizzie could be let go even sooner. This season flipped off like a light switch-- it's all ending much too fast. Can hardly make sense of it and wrap my head around what comes next.
Take it easy.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Sporadic
This is the final stretch. Unfortunately my health hit the skids Sunday night-- woke up Monday and couldn't get out of bed. Slept 20 hours through to today and decided to give work a go. I gotta admit-- feeling a bit strange, not sick in any conventional sense. Lined up a doctor's appointment for tomorrow, gonna have some blood work done. I don't wanna say it, but Lyme disease could be a possibility. Ugh, ugh, ugh.
Otherwise, the weekend was great. Darlin came up to visit-- we met up with Gizzie and went to our friend's 30th birthday party. It was a riot of a time-- our friend packed an entire Elk's Lodge with friends and family. Darlin and I cooked up a big farm feast for Saturday dinner, and then took it easy.
This week is shaping up to be a mess. Rain tomorrow, rain/snow on Thursday. There isn't much to do inside anymore, so the boss is gonna call everyone if he needs us. Last Friday marked the beginning of field clean up-- we pruned back all the blackberries along the lower fields.
Today
Full sun all day through-- lots of cold winds blowing. The cold has settled in to stay-- temperature hardly inched above 52F.
Today was a straight work day. Gizzie and the daughter got the van all packed for the final big money market, then they took off. Newport, the foreman and I rolled up to the blackberry rows along the hilltop-- we pruned all day through. Finished up the final stretch just before closing.
Over the season the blackberry canes grow thick-- their root systems toss up tons of extra shoots and create a veritable wall of plant matter. While that's great for berry production, it's bad for weathering the plant through the winter. The jumbled canes offers an ideal nesting area for all types of rodents-- who will consume/kill the berry canes for sustenance. So we clear the drooping/dying/poorly positioned branches out of the rows-- leaving 3-4 good canes per root cluster. There's more blackberry plants butchered and tossed into the tractor rows now than there are still in the ground.
I chatted with the boss a long time before going home. Talk turned to next year-- many plans to do things better. Business has lurched to a complete stand still-- CSA is over, hardly two or three customers show at the store on a given day. Doesn't look like we'll have the money to plant a cover crop over winter-- can't afford the seed much less the labor to plant it. The state of things is clear-- once the clean up work is over Newport, Gizzie and I are all let go. But next year-- the boss has endless plans to do things better: fewer unnecessary summer helpers, more fully planted fields and, hopefully, better weather for growing.
The boss is really thinking about doing a block of barley/hops next year-- he wants to get a production license and brew beer. As a kick off/send off, the boss wants to take all of us (Newport, Gizzie, the foreman and me) to a local microbrewery-- to sample the goods, celebrate the year and get ideas for making beer next year. Sounds more than perfect to me.
Looks like I could have a few unwanted days off this week. If that's the case I'll still be here-- talking over some of the farm issues/accoutrements there hasn't been time to address.
Take it easy and here's hoping it's not lyme disease.
Otherwise, the weekend was great. Darlin came up to visit-- we met up with Gizzie and went to our friend's 30th birthday party. It was a riot of a time-- our friend packed an entire Elk's Lodge with friends and family. Darlin and I cooked up a big farm feast for Saturday dinner, and then took it easy.
This week is shaping up to be a mess. Rain tomorrow, rain/snow on Thursday. There isn't much to do inside anymore, so the boss is gonna call everyone if he needs us. Last Friday marked the beginning of field clean up-- we pruned back all the blackberries along the lower fields.
Today
Full sun all day through-- lots of cold winds blowing. The cold has settled in to stay-- temperature hardly inched above 52F.
Today was a straight work day. Gizzie and the daughter got the van all packed for the final big money market, then they took off. Newport, the foreman and I rolled up to the blackberry rows along the hilltop-- we pruned all day through. Finished up the final stretch just before closing.
Over the season the blackberry canes grow thick-- their root systems toss up tons of extra shoots and create a veritable wall of plant matter. While that's great for berry production, it's bad for weathering the plant through the winter. The jumbled canes offers an ideal nesting area for all types of rodents-- who will consume/kill the berry canes for sustenance. So we clear the drooping/dying/poorly positioned branches out of the rows-- leaving 3-4 good canes per root cluster. There's more blackberry plants butchered and tossed into the tractor rows now than there are still in the ground.
I chatted with the boss a long time before going home. Talk turned to next year-- many plans to do things better. Business has lurched to a complete stand still-- CSA is over, hardly two or three customers show at the store on a given day. Doesn't look like we'll have the money to plant a cover crop over winter-- can't afford the seed much less the labor to plant it. The state of things is clear-- once the clean up work is over Newport, Gizzie and I are all let go. But next year-- the boss has endless plans to do things better: fewer unnecessary summer helpers, more fully planted fields and, hopefully, better weather for growing.
The boss is really thinking about doing a block of barley/hops next year-- he wants to get a production license and brew beer. As a kick off/send off, the boss wants to take all of us (Newport, Gizzie, the foreman and me) to a local microbrewery-- to sample the goods, celebrate the year and get ideas for making beer next year. Sounds more than perfect to me.
Looks like I could have a few unwanted days off this week. If that's the case I'll still be here-- talking over some of the farm issues/accoutrements there hasn't been time to address.
Take it easy and here's hoping it's not lyme disease.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Near Empty
Wild weather changes. Steady rain and thick fog this morning, but a new weather system pushed in around noon time. The rain stopped, the sun burned off the fog and within 10 minutes it was a full on sunny day. Temperature started in the low 50Fs but rose to upper 60Fs with the sun.
Today was the last big picking day-- there's nothing left now. I rolled into the farm a few minutes late this morning and gave Gizzie a hand straightening up the store. We loaded up the trash and started cleaning around the produce wagons when Newport and the foreman finally drove up-- real late. The foreman had another car accident-- he was fine, but the repairs are going to be a fortune and an endless problem.
First up was the cabbage. We headed to the hilltop and filled 6 boxes with everything left. Dumped off the cabbage heads at the store and took off to the lower fields-- next was the final round of kale. This time, instead of picking off good leaves, we chopped the good 'tops' off each plant and bunched them as they were. Filled 4 crates of dinosaur and 3 crates of red bore. The foreman's arugula in the center of the lower fields looked ready-- so we inched along and over 2/3 of the triple row: we filled 8 crates.
Time for lunch and drying out.
After lunch we headed back to the lower fields and filled 5 sopping wet sacks with corn. Not much of anything is left anywhere. CSA was starting soon, so we washed up all the greens and filled up the wagon displays. Saturday is the last CSA pick up of the year, only the store and a few market's are left after that. Today we had: 5 types of potatoes (Red Norlands, Yukon Golds, Satinas, Keuka Golds and Kennebunks), red bore/dinosaur kale, butternut/buttercup squash, big tomatoes, corn, broccoli, arugula, green peppers, beets and cabbage-- lots of everything, but the variety has slimmed down. The boss was scratching his head trying to think of more for us to do: One last big haul-- the foreman, Newport and I tractored up to the forest field and cleared the last row of beets. We took everything, but sorted them 2 ways-- the few big beets were bound and bunched, the many tiny beets were clipped down and boxed. Managed to get 1 crate of bunches and 4 big boxes of loose beets.
That was it. We returned to the farm, washed the beets and just stood around. Newport took off early to go to a hockey game with his girlfriend, the foreman flipped through a seed catalog in the store and Gizzie was tied up making jam in the kitchen. I hopped in and lent Gizzie a hand pouring in the pectin, so the jam would set properly, but after that there was nothing left in the fields.
Well almost nothing. I clamored up into the tractor and drove into the remains of the brother's big pumpkin garden-- time for the last of the giants to make their way up to the storefront. I heaved 4 front loaders worth up the hill and arranged them as best as I could manage. Looking for busy work, I took the tractor down to the greenhouse and sorted all the rotten squash out of the piles-- filled an entire front loader with the rot. I dumped it all in the compost heap, returned the tractor and waited the rest of the day away.
I sat down with the boss before the day's end-- tomorrow begins the field clean up work. The days of picking are truly over (although, I swear there has to be more potatoes up on the hill). It's scary stuff.
The foreman came over at closing time and asked if I could give him a lift to the auto-body shop, where his car was being repaired. I said, of course. We chatted on the way-- this weekend is the big one for him. It's a quiet secret that the foreman is hoping to move on this winter. He's been talking to several farms around the city who are looking for a field manager. He wants both worlds-- living with his girlfriend in the city and working for a good farm wage. This weekend he's going to meet one of the farmers.
And maybe it is about time for him to move on-- he's been working this farm with the boss for the past 8 years. But all of this really has me thinking. I'm not blind to all that's been happening this summer-- I've been groomed to take the foreman's place. The boss has been teaching me field layouts, planting/watering times and cycles, he's got me in the tractor and out taking apart pumps/machinery. I just don't know. Talking with Darlin, I keep trying to make up my mind-- cause I'm moving to the city over the winter too. The question is: whether I'm staying there in Spring or coming back to be foreman. And I have got no answer yet.
I love this job, and that's no secret. I'm pretty good at it and there's much more to learn. The boss is an unusually good man and I owe him my sanity-- this job caught me right before I teetered off the edge from unemployment into crazy. But then there's Darlin, friends, writing and many things waiting down in the city. Hm. I would miss the brush burning and planting in Spring, long Summer and Fall harvests.
But I keep coming back to that line from Thoreau-- "It was time that I left Walden, for there were other lives to lead."
Darlin is coming tomorrow. We're meeting up with Gizzie and heading to a good ol' friend's 30 birthday. It's suppose to be quite the affair. I'm also drinking with Gizzie tonight-- I'm suppose to read through and critique the scripts he's been working over. Hm. Thinking to be done.
Take it easy.
Today was the last big picking day-- there's nothing left now. I rolled into the farm a few minutes late this morning and gave Gizzie a hand straightening up the store. We loaded up the trash and started cleaning around the produce wagons when Newport and the foreman finally drove up-- real late. The foreman had another car accident-- he was fine, but the repairs are going to be a fortune and an endless problem.
First up was the cabbage. We headed to the hilltop and filled 6 boxes with everything left. Dumped off the cabbage heads at the store and took off to the lower fields-- next was the final round of kale. This time, instead of picking off good leaves, we chopped the good 'tops' off each plant and bunched them as they were. Filled 4 crates of dinosaur and 3 crates of red bore. The foreman's arugula in the center of the lower fields looked ready-- so we inched along and over 2/3 of the triple row: we filled 8 crates.
Time for lunch and drying out.
After lunch we headed back to the lower fields and filled 5 sopping wet sacks with corn. Not much of anything is left anywhere. CSA was starting soon, so we washed up all the greens and filled up the wagon displays. Saturday is the last CSA pick up of the year, only the store and a few market's are left after that. Today we had: 5 types of potatoes (Red Norlands, Yukon Golds, Satinas, Keuka Golds and Kennebunks), red bore/dinosaur kale, butternut/buttercup squash, big tomatoes, corn, broccoli, arugula, green peppers, beets and cabbage-- lots of everything, but the variety has slimmed down. The boss was scratching his head trying to think of more for us to do: One last big haul-- the foreman, Newport and I tractored up to the forest field and cleared the last row of beets. We took everything, but sorted them 2 ways-- the few big beets were bound and bunched, the many tiny beets were clipped down and boxed. Managed to get 1 crate of bunches and 4 big boxes of loose beets.
That was it. We returned to the farm, washed the beets and just stood around. Newport took off early to go to a hockey game with his girlfriend, the foreman flipped through a seed catalog in the store and Gizzie was tied up making jam in the kitchen. I hopped in and lent Gizzie a hand pouring in the pectin, so the jam would set properly, but after that there was nothing left in the fields.
Well almost nothing. I clamored up into the tractor and drove into the remains of the brother's big pumpkin garden-- time for the last of the giants to make their way up to the storefront. I heaved 4 front loaders worth up the hill and arranged them as best as I could manage. Looking for busy work, I took the tractor down to the greenhouse and sorted all the rotten squash out of the piles-- filled an entire front loader with the rot. I dumped it all in the compost heap, returned the tractor and waited the rest of the day away.
I sat down with the boss before the day's end-- tomorrow begins the field clean up work. The days of picking are truly over (although, I swear there has to be more potatoes up on the hill). It's scary stuff.
The foreman came over at closing time and asked if I could give him a lift to the auto-body shop, where his car was being repaired. I said, of course. We chatted on the way-- this weekend is the big one for him. It's a quiet secret that the foreman is hoping to move on this winter. He's been talking to several farms around the city who are looking for a field manager. He wants both worlds-- living with his girlfriend in the city and working for a good farm wage. This weekend he's going to meet one of the farmers.
And maybe it is about time for him to move on-- he's been working this farm with the boss for the past 8 years. But all of this really has me thinking. I'm not blind to all that's been happening this summer-- I've been groomed to take the foreman's place. The boss has been teaching me field layouts, planting/watering times and cycles, he's got me in the tractor and out taking apart pumps/machinery. I just don't know. Talking with Darlin, I keep trying to make up my mind-- cause I'm moving to the city over the winter too. The question is: whether I'm staying there in Spring or coming back to be foreman. And I have got no answer yet.
I love this job, and that's no secret. I'm pretty good at it and there's much more to learn. The boss is an unusually good man and I owe him my sanity-- this job caught me right before I teetered off the edge from unemployment into crazy. But then there's Darlin, friends, writing and many things waiting down in the city. Hm. I would miss the brush burning and planting in Spring, long Summer and Fall harvests.
But I keep coming back to that line from Thoreau-- "It was time that I left Walden, for there were other lives to lead."
Darlin is coming tomorrow. We're meeting up with Gizzie and heading to a good ol' friend's 30 birthday. It's suppose to be quite the affair. I'm also drinking with Gizzie tonight-- I'm suppose to read through and critique the scripts he's been working over. Hm. Thinking to be done.
Take it easy.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Wash Out
Heavy rain all day. Temperature never broke above 48F.
No pictures of the combine today, too wet.
It's time to dry out and sleep.
We polished up the entire haul of tomatoes, scrubbed up the week's potatoes and sorted out the winter squash for the last CSA days. Managed to get soaked to the bone despite being in the barn most of the day.
Long, cold, wet day.
Drying out-- we'll try again tomorrow.
Take it easy.
No pictures of the combine today, too wet.
It's time to dry out and sleep.
We polished up the entire haul of tomatoes, scrubbed up the week's potatoes and sorted out the winter squash for the last CSA days. Managed to get soaked to the bone despite being in the barn most of the day.
Long, cold, wet day.
Drying out-- we'll try again tomorrow.
Take it easy.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Long Pulls
Cloudy morning gave way to a sunny afternoon-- rain coming in tonight. The temperature started at 50F but rose to 63F by the day's end.
Today was the big money market (maybe the last), so I gave Gizzie and the boss a hand filling up the market boxes. Before too long the foreman called me over and the picking day began.
We started off by marching through the corn rows in the lower field-- we filled 4 sacks. We dropped off the corn and loaded up on boxes and shears at the store-- then the foreman found out I knew how to drive the tractor.
Much to my surprise he seemed relieved-- I think the long lonely days harrowing drove him to hate the machine. I'd always assumed he'd be angry, thinking that I was stepping on his toes or taking over his job. Instead he put me behind the wheel and gave me some tips on working the diesel clutch-- Newport hopped aboard and I drove the three of us up to the forest fields. We filled 8 big boxes with the last of the green peppers and 3 buckets of green string beans. At one point a bow hunter came up to scope out the woods for the deer season (starting soon). He waved over to us and went about his business. We piled the catch into the tractor and I drove us back for lunch.
After lunch we rolled uphill and hit the potatoes. Before going to market the boss said we'd need 20 buckets full-- so we set to work. It took all afternoon to inch our way through the remaining yukon golds, satinas and kennebunk-- but we managed to get the full 20 buckets. There are a few rows left-- maybe next week we'll finally get around to emptying the field.
It was almost closing time when we came down off the hill. We stacked up the potato buckets behind the back awning and packed away the day's haul into the cooler. Here's a little foreshadowing:
The demon machine is back. The foreman called me and Newport down-- we climbed all over the machine checking all the chains and inner workings (tomorrow I'll take internal pictures and explain the entire mechanization). But, this is the feed corn harvester-- it's attached to the tractor and then another wagon is attached behind it. It's driven through the corn rows, it sucks up the corn stalks whole, peels out the ears, then shucks/grinds off the kernels and finally spits them out into the back wagon. Looks like the foreman will pilot the whole apparatus from the tractor, while Newport and I take turns managing the kernel flow and the stalk/ear chaff exhaust chute. The boss got this monstrosity for free last year-- it's from the 1940s and runs exactly as you'd expect: loudly, rusty and brokenly. We have a lot of prep work before go time: all the hundreds of chains need oiling, the grease boxes/joints need filling, the engine oil needs to be drained and replaced-- then the innards need a slow inspection/tests/repairs. The foreman seems to think we'll tackle everything this week. I like big machines, so this is all pretty exciting. But Newport and I stared into the grinding plates and shook our heads (you'll see what I mean tomorrow)-- it'd be hell to get any part of you chewed up in this thing.
After walking over the machine and familiarizing ourselves with its workings the foreman called it a day. Homeward bound.
Take it easy.
Today was the big money market (maybe the last), so I gave Gizzie and the boss a hand filling up the market boxes. Before too long the foreman called me over and the picking day began.
We started off by marching through the corn rows in the lower field-- we filled 4 sacks. We dropped off the corn and loaded up on boxes and shears at the store-- then the foreman found out I knew how to drive the tractor.
Much to my surprise he seemed relieved-- I think the long lonely days harrowing drove him to hate the machine. I'd always assumed he'd be angry, thinking that I was stepping on his toes or taking over his job. Instead he put me behind the wheel and gave me some tips on working the diesel clutch-- Newport hopped aboard and I drove the three of us up to the forest fields. We filled 8 big boxes with the last of the green peppers and 3 buckets of green string beans. At one point a bow hunter came up to scope out the woods for the deer season (starting soon). He waved over to us and went about his business. We piled the catch into the tractor and I drove us back for lunch.
After lunch we rolled uphill and hit the potatoes. Before going to market the boss said we'd need 20 buckets full-- so we set to work. It took all afternoon to inch our way through the remaining yukon golds, satinas and kennebunk-- but we managed to get the full 20 buckets. There are a few rows left-- maybe next week we'll finally get around to emptying the field.
It was almost closing time when we came down off the hill. We stacked up the potato buckets behind the back awning and packed away the day's haul into the cooler. Here's a little foreshadowing:
After walking over the machine and familiarizing ourselves with its workings the foreman called it a day. Homeward bound.
Take it easy.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Sharpen the Edges
I've been writting sloppy and repetitive. It's time to sharpen the edges and flex out. Gotta stay loose, gotta keep going-- season ain't over yet.
State of the Farm
Things have slowed, that's certain. Corn is on its last legs, only a few green peppers left (the reds are too delicate for the weather/rotted), the kale and chard have grown old-- the leaves are much smaller these days. Cherry tomatoes are all dead, berries (as I've belabored) are dead, the string beans have stopped any further growth. No more pumpkins/no more squash/no more onions, their fields are empty. So whats left-- a few beets, lots of potatoes, that little bit of corn, thyme needs to be cut, the hilltop tomatoes will keep chugging until the first killing frost, then there's broccoli, cabbage, brussel sprouts, spinach and arugula-- but that's it. We're cooking up a good amount of jam these days-- filling up the shelves for the winter holidays. It won't be too many weeks before we start clearing up the fields and start the winter pruning. Another month, by my counting, until most of the field work is shut down until March.
State of Things
Lot's of action these days. Just came back from another weekend in the city. Darlin had some big plans up her sleeve-- it's been all over the internet and trickled into the 'normal' news. I booted up and we marched with all the protesters to a big rally in the center of the city. I can't do much half way-- I hollered my head off and lost my voice down to a whisper. It was my personal mission to keep Darlin from getting arrested again, and that nearly failed. Most of the march was pretty worry free-- lots of families, old folks, little kids, students, workers and the whole lot. We stood in front of a big group of doctors in their lab coats-- flanked by a contingent of dentists. Marched along with a World War 2 vet and his wife-- she wore his flight jacket and medals, he had on a sandwich board as he hobbled along with his walker. When we got to the center of the city things started to get heavy-- police buses, paddy wagons and swat trucks lined the way. Cops stood every 5 ft from the beginning, but near the end were row on row of serious fellas decked out in riot gear-- shields, clubs and enough quick-ties to arrest half the city.
Things got pretty tense-- we kept moving and singing along with the little kids. At one street corner I got a real bad feeling-- the police had stretched out the 'kettling' nets and had formed a shield wall. I pulled Darlin out of the march up into a store front saying-- whoa whoa, lets hold on for a moment. Not a minute later the nets were drawn, trapping everyone else inside-- there were screams and fifty-some riot shields scooted up from behind. Darling and I slipped back along the store fronts and away from the trouble. But we kept on-- we found a way around and joined up at the big central rally. No further incidents while we were there-- though I've seen the pictures of horse police charging in later in the night. We were far off by then.
So now I'm home again. Gizzie and I are planning on something tonight-- all this work and play only amounts to so much. I want him to teach me to act, ehehehe-- seems like something good to be able to do. But most likely-- we'll settle down and record more music. Last winter we played around with some mixing boards and equipment-- we play guitars, mandolin, accordion, drums and bass between the two of us. We banged out one good-horrifying song and 6 or so crap-half finished songs. So it's time for more of that. Another option is to write-- we chatter off a dozen or so story/scene ideas every time we go for a drink. Maybe it's time to reign in the stallions and get some pages filled. That's for tonight-- if only to prove ourselves wrong, thinking we wont do it.
Today
Full sun all day through. Temperature in the upper 50Fs.
Old Rudolpho is gone. Headed back to Guatemala-- and I might never see the guy again (Marco let on that the old man might not have another season of work left in him). It's too bad, really. It's just the boys now.
We loaded up the tractor with buckets then rode the hilltop early in the morning-- a full day of tomato picking ahead. The foreman and Newport took their rows, Gizzie and I took ours. No surprises here-- just buckets to fill. We picked straight to lunch.
There was considerably more to do after eating. The boss's brother is selling off six of his calves-- they're going to farmers who'll fatten 'em up over a year, then it's to slaughter. Of the four calves he's keeping-- the baby bull will be raised up maybe to breed or maybe to sell for breeding, the 3 cows will be fattened and then slaughtered next fall. So after lunch we trucked down to pasture to separate out the calves from the herd-- so the brother could decided which he wanted to hold onto. We set up a holding pen down by the feed trough-- the herd was all gathered together nearby. They knew something was up-- the cows yelled over and again. The brother gave us sticks to guide/drive the cows with. We dumped a few bags of corn into the pen-- and the whole herd ran in and gobbled the stuff up. It took a few minutes to round up the strays, but everything went without a hitch. With the whole herd inside the pen, the boss and his brother hopped inside and corralled back the calves while we lead the adults out with more corn-- it took 2 minutes tops. We left the brother and his wife to handle sorting through the calves. I got splattered with more than my share of cow shit.
Back to the tomatoes. We cleared the rest of the field, loaded the buckets onto the wagon and trucked 'em down to the barn-- 87 buckets total. Great numbers. We grabbed knives and set out again-- this time to cut the broccoli. Gizzie hadn't cut the stuff before and was excited-- he was sorely disappointed. The foreman was in a sour spot-- he nearly bucked Gizzie off the tractor and into the horse pond on the ride up. We filled 5 bushels before closing.
Tidied up the yard and got things ready in the barn for tomato sorting tomorrow. Then off for home.
Day was done.
On Gizzie:
My friend has made himself right at home on the farm. Ehehehe, but really-- the boss has really got a soft spot for him. Out of the boss's farm 'sons' Gizzie has become the beloved baby.
Riding to and from markets the old man really opens up and talks straight-- saying personal things I have no business writing about. But according to Gizzie: while rolling down the highway, Lucy perched on his lap, the boss will ruffle the dog's ears and say "whaddya think Luce? Should we let the kid get his nicotine fix or just let 'im squirm? Alright, alright-- spark up Gizzie, but you should really think of quitting. Maybe try smoking something else beside cigarettes, worked for me when I was a kid."
Stay warm. Take it easy.
State of the Farm
Things have slowed, that's certain. Corn is on its last legs, only a few green peppers left (the reds are too delicate for the weather/rotted), the kale and chard have grown old-- the leaves are much smaller these days. Cherry tomatoes are all dead, berries (as I've belabored) are dead, the string beans have stopped any further growth. No more pumpkins/no more squash/no more onions, their fields are empty. So whats left-- a few beets, lots of potatoes, that little bit of corn, thyme needs to be cut, the hilltop tomatoes will keep chugging until the first killing frost, then there's broccoli, cabbage, brussel sprouts, spinach and arugula-- but that's it. We're cooking up a good amount of jam these days-- filling up the shelves for the winter holidays. It won't be too many weeks before we start clearing up the fields and start the winter pruning. Another month, by my counting, until most of the field work is shut down until March.
State of Things
Lot's of action these days. Just came back from another weekend in the city. Darlin had some big plans up her sleeve-- it's been all over the internet and trickled into the 'normal' news. I booted up and we marched with all the protesters to a big rally in the center of the city. I can't do much half way-- I hollered my head off and lost my voice down to a whisper. It was my personal mission to keep Darlin from getting arrested again, and that nearly failed. Most of the march was pretty worry free-- lots of families, old folks, little kids, students, workers and the whole lot. We stood in front of a big group of doctors in their lab coats-- flanked by a contingent of dentists. Marched along with a World War 2 vet and his wife-- she wore his flight jacket and medals, he had on a sandwich board as he hobbled along with his walker. When we got to the center of the city things started to get heavy-- police buses, paddy wagons and swat trucks lined the way. Cops stood every 5 ft from the beginning, but near the end were row on row of serious fellas decked out in riot gear-- shields, clubs and enough quick-ties to arrest half the city.
Things got pretty tense-- we kept moving and singing along with the little kids. At one street corner I got a real bad feeling-- the police had stretched out the 'kettling' nets and had formed a shield wall. I pulled Darlin out of the march up into a store front saying-- whoa whoa, lets hold on for a moment. Not a minute later the nets were drawn, trapping everyone else inside-- there were screams and fifty-some riot shields scooted up from behind. Darling and I slipped back along the store fronts and away from the trouble. But we kept on-- we found a way around and joined up at the big central rally. No further incidents while we were there-- though I've seen the pictures of horse police charging in later in the night. We were far off by then.
So now I'm home again. Gizzie and I are planning on something tonight-- all this work and play only amounts to so much. I want him to teach me to act, ehehehe-- seems like something good to be able to do. But most likely-- we'll settle down and record more music. Last winter we played around with some mixing boards and equipment-- we play guitars, mandolin, accordion, drums and bass between the two of us. We banged out one good-horrifying song and 6 or so crap-half finished songs. So it's time for more of that. Another option is to write-- we chatter off a dozen or so story/scene ideas every time we go for a drink. Maybe it's time to reign in the stallions and get some pages filled. That's for tonight-- if only to prove ourselves wrong, thinking we wont do it.
Today
Full sun all day through. Temperature in the upper 50Fs.
Old Rudolpho is gone. Headed back to Guatemala-- and I might never see the guy again (Marco let on that the old man might not have another season of work left in him). It's too bad, really. It's just the boys now.
We loaded up the tractor with buckets then rode the hilltop early in the morning-- a full day of tomato picking ahead. The foreman and Newport took their rows, Gizzie and I took ours. No surprises here-- just buckets to fill. We picked straight to lunch.
There was considerably more to do after eating. The boss's brother is selling off six of his calves-- they're going to farmers who'll fatten 'em up over a year, then it's to slaughter. Of the four calves he's keeping-- the baby bull will be raised up maybe to breed or maybe to sell for breeding, the 3 cows will be fattened and then slaughtered next fall. So after lunch we trucked down to pasture to separate out the calves from the herd-- so the brother could decided which he wanted to hold onto. We set up a holding pen down by the feed trough-- the herd was all gathered together nearby. They knew something was up-- the cows yelled over and again. The brother gave us sticks to guide/drive the cows with. We dumped a few bags of corn into the pen-- and the whole herd ran in and gobbled the stuff up. It took a few minutes to round up the strays, but everything went without a hitch. With the whole herd inside the pen, the boss and his brother hopped inside and corralled back the calves while we lead the adults out with more corn-- it took 2 minutes tops. We left the brother and his wife to handle sorting through the calves. I got splattered with more than my share of cow shit.
Back to the tomatoes. We cleared the rest of the field, loaded the buckets onto the wagon and trucked 'em down to the barn-- 87 buckets total. Great numbers. We grabbed knives and set out again-- this time to cut the broccoli. Gizzie hadn't cut the stuff before and was excited-- he was sorely disappointed. The foreman was in a sour spot-- he nearly bucked Gizzie off the tractor and into the horse pond on the ride up. We filled 5 bushels before closing.
Tidied up the yard and got things ready in the barn for tomato sorting tomorrow. Then off for home.
Day was done.
On Gizzie:
My friend has made himself right at home on the farm. Ehehehe, but really-- the boss has really got a soft spot for him. Out of the boss's farm 'sons' Gizzie has become the beloved baby.
Riding to and from markets the old man really opens up and talks straight-- saying personal things I have no business writing about. But according to Gizzie: while rolling down the highway, Lucy perched on his lap, the boss will ruffle the dog's ears and say "whaddya think Luce? Should we let the kid get his nicotine fix or just let 'im squirm? Alright, alright-- spark up Gizzie, but you should really think of quitting. Maybe try smoking something else beside cigarettes, worked for me when I was a kid."
Stay warm. Take it easy.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Shucking Walnuts
Bad weather. Heavy rains last night lead to steady rains this morning. By the early afternoon the clouds slacked back to a light drizzle/mist/fog. Temperature never broke above 58F.
The day started as usual-- getting the store filled up and ready. Newport and the foreman pitched a market tent over the sinks and we scrubbed up 10 buckets of potatoes from yesterday afternoon. Gizzie and I piled up the potatoes/winter squash for the CSA, then we got around to boxing up food for market. We peeled and chopped up a bunch of butternut before heading down to the barn. Old Rudolpho stayed home on account of the rain, so we picked up where he left-- shining and sorting the last tomato buckets. By lunch time there were only a handful left.
Gizzie and I sped off for pizza today.
It was a slow day around the store. Not a single customer until CSA started, and even then it was a slow trickle. We packed the wagons full: butternut, buttercup, acorn squash, green peppers, spinach, lettuce, mint, 3 types of potato (Red Norlands, Keuka Golds, Kennebunk), cabbage, tomatoes and swiss chard. It's getting a little lean-- next week might be the last CSA pick up days. Newport and I swept/power-washed off the hardtop, then we headed back to finish up the tomatoes. Gizzie took off for market.
Old Rudolpho left something behind-- It was the most intimidating slingshot I'd ever seen. He'd carved the handle into an owl and strung it with big loops of industrial rubber bands. The foreman and Newport took turns shooting each other in the back with tomatoes. Before long the wholesaler came by and we loaded up thirty 10lb. boxes. Slim pickings.
The 'harlot's fruit tree' or dark walnut has started to drop its nuts-- the boss wants to try drying out/selling some this year. So the three of us got a bushel basket and started to stomp off the protective meat-- shucking the green, keeping the tan nuts. You have to be pretty critical when eying over the nut-- black patches due to rot/over maturity makes the taste turn inediblely bitter. The protective meat is filled with some strong chemical-- all our hands are dyed a deep yellow/black-- it wont wash or scrub off. Oh well.
We filled the basket and the boss sent us off to pick as many string beans as we could manage before closing. 4 buckets later I was in my car warming up. Day was done.
I'm city bound tomorrow after work. Darlin wants to take me to a march and I'm going-- I like to see things, so let's go see things that are happening (I say to myself).
Drinks with Gizzie tonight, I reckon.
On with it and onward. Take it easy.
The day started as usual-- getting the store filled up and ready. Newport and the foreman pitched a market tent over the sinks and we scrubbed up 10 buckets of potatoes from yesterday afternoon. Gizzie and I piled up the potatoes/winter squash for the CSA, then we got around to boxing up food for market. We peeled and chopped up a bunch of butternut before heading down to the barn. Old Rudolpho stayed home on account of the rain, so we picked up where he left-- shining and sorting the last tomato buckets. By lunch time there were only a handful left.
Gizzie and I sped off for pizza today.
It was a slow day around the store. Not a single customer until CSA started, and even then it was a slow trickle. We packed the wagons full: butternut, buttercup, acorn squash, green peppers, spinach, lettuce, mint, 3 types of potato (Red Norlands, Keuka Golds, Kennebunk), cabbage, tomatoes and swiss chard. It's getting a little lean-- next week might be the last CSA pick up days. Newport and I swept/power-washed off the hardtop, then we headed back to finish up the tomatoes. Gizzie took off for market.
Old Rudolpho left something behind-- It was the most intimidating slingshot I'd ever seen. He'd carved the handle into an owl and strung it with big loops of industrial rubber bands. The foreman and Newport took turns shooting each other in the back with tomatoes. Before long the wholesaler came by and we loaded up thirty 10lb. boxes. Slim pickings.
The 'harlot's fruit tree' or dark walnut has started to drop its nuts-- the boss wants to try drying out/selling some this year. So the three of us got a bushel basket and started to stomp off the protective meat-- shucking the green, keeping the tan nuts. You have to be pretty critical when eying over the nut-- black patches due to rot/over maturity makes the taste turn inediblely bitter. The protective meat is filled with some strong chemical-- all our hands are dyed a deep yellow/black-- it wont wash or scrub off. Oh well.
We filled the basket and the boss sent us off to pick as many string beans as we could manage before closing. 4 buckets later I was in my car warming up. Day was done.
I'm city bound tomorrow after work. Darlin wants to take me to a march and I'm going-- I like to see things, so let's go see things that are happening (I say to myself).
Drinks with Gizzie tonight, I reckon.
On with it and onward. Take it easy.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Answers
Two different days in one. This morning had clear skies and was in the upper 60Fs. The front started to pass over early this afternoon-- dark clouds (it's raining now) and low 50Fs.
I joined up with the foreman and Newport as they straightened up the store this morning. We filled up the tomato display and I did a little riding around in the tractor-- dumping off compost. I filled up the van with junk cardboard/trash bags for a dump run-- everything was all squared away. The three of us headed up to the potato fields on the hilltop and pulled all the remaining Red Norlands. We hacked away with the hoes until lunch.
Curve ball. Newport invited me back to his house-- he had loads of pork ribs leftover from a feast last night. I couldn't refuse. I met his two dogs and parakeet-- he loaded me up a plate. We slumped down in his basement to eat/joke around/watch Family Feud. The foreman came down and was more than a little surprised to see me. It was an uncomfortable meeting. I eased the tension slightly with a few sport anecdotes I'd filed away for just such an occasion. We ate up and argued over the television-- it was an eerily familiar hour. Back to work.
The air changed quickly with the oncoming weather system. Newport and the foreman rolled off to pick swiss chard and more potatoes-- I stayed behind. Today was Viking's one day of work, so we caught up on each others lives-- then made some blue berry/raspberry jam. I filled up the sinks out back and scrubbed/boxed up all the potatoes from yesterday and this morning (quite an undertaking).
While tied to the sink-- I noticed a few visitors. The boss's wife is a college professor and 2 van loads of environmental science students clambered out-- they looked like babies, pale and bundled up in hooded sweatshirts. The boss sat down with the group for a long talk and then gave them a tour around the farm-- I scrubbed more potatoes.
I managed to polish off all the wash work in a few hours. The college kids climbed back into their vans and headed off. The boss waddled over and we headed out to cut a few cases of mint (big beds are scattered among all the gardens and fields). Physical Therapy hasn't been kind to the boss-- we got a milk crate for him to set down on-- otherwise he could hardly bend over. We talked about the state of the season, but he was pre-occupied. Eventually he just got on with it and said-- so, I'm gonna keep you on into November-- with Bah let loose, someone has to prune all the berry canes and help the foreman get the fields cleared. I was happy to hear it-- half expected I wouldn't even get to work through the end of October. The boss straightened up a bit and seemed in better spirits.
While cutting the mint around the barn gardens-- we had more visitors. The boss's brother's dog died over night. It was only five years old but had acute liver failure and was put down-- very strange. The brother has a puppy, but the deceased dog was for breeding. Quite a loss. The brother had the dead dog in his tractor bucket as he puttered off to bury it-- his wife walked behind with the puppy. After they passed, the boss said-- you know, it's illegal to kill your own animals. He explained that animal protection laws make it illegal to kill/put down most farm animals except through the 'proper' channels. I guess that he meant his brother wanted to handle his dog himself. But the boss continued-- the law is a problem for many farmers, so they're trying to have it over turned. Horse breeders/owners are stuck with fields full of old unusable animals they cannot get rid of-- it's illegal in the US. Canada and other countries all have horse slaughterhouses that will buy the old animals for meat. Horses are expensive animals to buy/keep/feed, so selling them recoups some of the losses and puts the animal to use-- rather than just wasting away to death and eventually rotting into the ground. We got back to the mint.
We filled three crates full of mint bunches. The boss headed off to check up on Old Rudolpho, while I headed over to the boss's house to cut more mint and some sage. The clouds grew darker and the air colder. I filled one more crate 1/2 mint, 1/2 sage, before closing.
Time to get warm and hunt after Gizzie.
Take it easy.
I joined up with the foreman and Newport as they straightened up the store this morning. We filled up the tomato display and I did a little riding around in the tractor-- dumping off compost. I filled up the van with junk cardboard/trash bags for a dump run-- everything was all squared away. The three of us headed up to the potato fields on the hilltop and pulled all the remaining Red Norlands. We hacked away with the hoes until lunch.
Curve ball. Newport invited me back to his house-- he had loads of pork ribs leftover from a feast last night. I couldn't refuse. I met his two dogs and parakeet-- he loaded me up a plate. We slumped down in his basement to eat/joke around/watch Family Feud. The foreman came down and was more than a little surprised to see me. It was an uncomfortable meeting. I eased the tension slightly with a few sport anecdotes I'd filed away for just such an occasion. We ate up and argued over the television-- it was an eerily familiar hour. Back to work.
The air changed quickly with the oncoming weather system. Newport and the foreman rolled off to pick swiss chard and more potatoes-- I stayed behind. Today was Viking's one day of work, so we caught up on each others lives-- then made some blue berry/raspberry jam. I filled up the sinks out back and scrubbed/boxed up all the potatoes from yesterday and this morning (quite an undertaking).
While tied to the sink-- I noticed a few visitors. The boss's wife is a college professor and 2 van loads of environmental science students clambered out-- they looked like babies, pale and bundled up in hooded sweatshirts. The boss sat down with the group for a long talk and then gave them a tour around the farm-- I scrubbed more potatoes.
I managed to polish off all the wash work in a few hours. The college kids climbed back into their vans and headed off. The boss waddled over and we headed out to cut a few cases of mint (big beds are scattered among all the gardens and fields). Physical Therapy hasn't been kind to the boss-- we got a milk crate for him to set down on-- otherwise he could hardly bend over. We talked about the state of the season, but he was pre-occupied. Eventually he just got on with it and said-- so, I'm gonna keep you on into November-- with Bah let loose, someone has to prune all the berry canes and help the foreman get the fields cleared. I was happy to hear it-- half expected I wouldn't even get to work through the end of October. The boss straightened up a bit and seemed in better spirits.
While cutting the mint around the barn gardens-- we had more visitors. The boss's brother's dog died over night. It was only five years old but had acute liver failure and was put down-- very strange. The brother has a puppy, but the deceased dog was for breeding. Quite a loss. The brother had the dead dog in his tractor bucket as he puttered off to bury it-- his wife walked behind with the puppy. After they passed, the boss said-- you know, it's illegal to kill your own animals. He explained that animal protection laws make it illegal to kill/put down most farm animals except through the 'proper' channels. I guess that he meant his brother wanted to handle his dog himself. But the boss continued-- the law is a problem for many farmers, so they're trying to have it over turned. Horse breeders/owners are stuck with fields full of old unusable animals they cannot get rid of-- it's illegal in the US. Canada and other countries all have horse slaughterhouses that will buy the old animals for meat. Horses are expensive animals to buy/keep/feed, so selling them recoups some of the losses and puts the animal to use-- rather than just wasting away to death and eventually rotting into the ground. We got back to the mint.
We filled three crates full of mint bunches. The boss headed off to check up on Old Rudolpho, while I headed over to the boss's house to cut more mint and some sage. The clouds grew darker and the air colder. I filled one more crate 1/2 mint, 1/2 sage, before closing.
Time to get warm and hunt after Gizzie.
Take it easy.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Beginning of the Beginning
Full sun all day through. The temperature was in the mid 70Fs. Another cold front is moving in, bringing rain with it-- should hit tomorrow afternoon. The weather system isn't due to clear significantly until next week. When does the axe finally strike?
I hitched a ride in with Gizzie this morning. He made a few pit stops for cigarettes and breakfast-- we arrived ripely late. The store was mostly ready, but we finished culling out the bad tomatoes. Lots to do in preparation for the rain and cold. The warm weekend bought us another light round of picking but little more. Gizzie set about getting the van packed for today's big money market. The foreman took off on a road trip out of state-- he was picking up a bulk order of jam jars (we couldn't wait for delivery). So it was just me and Newport.
First up: we took the machete down to the lower fields and cut/bundled up cornstalks. The boss is donating a few hundred bunches to different churches/temples around town so they can be festively decorated for Fall. It was extremely fast work. After stowing away the stalks away, we grabbed buckets and headed up to the forest field-- one last lightning round of string bean picking. The rows were extremely lean-- few beans and no new flower buds. It took the entire double row of the yellow wax beans to fill 1/3 a bucket. The greens were coming out better-- we each filled half a bucket through the course of half a double row. We dumped off the beans with the daughter in the store, then it was time for pre-winter cleaning. We headed down into the pasture around the horse pond and disconnected/stacked up the galvanized steel irrigation pipes (unused since July/early August).The boss's brother wants to harrow out the crab grass and plant something more nutritious for horse grazing, so we dragged all the cinder blocks/logs/stones out of the way. It was lunch time.
I had a late lunch. I figured out a little arrangement to solve the problem of sun/air drying the onions Darlin and I picked Saturday. I laid out 10 plastic mesh trays, poured the onions in, sifted out the dirt and left them to bake in the sun.
Genius.
Just as I was about to sit down to my sandwich, the boss's brother hollered over-- the cows had escaped again. I ran with him across the street and saw 2 calves had escaped-- I blocked them off from the road as the brother scooted up from behind. It's almost a matter of course at this point: the calves went in without a problem. Lunch time.
Here's another picture. It's Lucy the boss's demon dog. I've told the story before, but she's the monster known to tear the wings off birds, grow bored and leave them to writhe to death. The boss chuckles and calls her Lucy-fer.
The foreman finally returned from his jar journey-- we headed to the forest fields again for one last sweep through the eggplant. Everything, any size, had to go-- still we narrowly filled 3 buckets.
We dropped off the eggplant at the store, then loaded up with buckets and hoes-- the great potato harvest begins. The foreman drove us up the hilltop and took out the field chart-- it's no longer a matter of how much we need (buckets per market/per CSA/per day), everything needs to get pulled from the ground. We picked one of the odd-ball varieties we haven't touched yet and got to work. I can't remember the name of the variety, but these were huge potatoes-- soft ball sized and larger. We hoed through the rest of the day-- filling 18 buckets with just the one variety. We finished the row just a little after closing.
All the potato buckets were stashed beneath the back awning, then I stacked all the onion racks into the store for safe keeping/dew protection. Whew. Homeward.
Drinking with Gizzie tonight? Hope so, I got a few dollars and a liver burning holes through my pockets.
Take it easy.
I hitched a ride in with Gizzie this morning. He made a few pit stops for cigarettes and breakfast-- we arrived ripely late. The store was mostly ready, but we finished culling out the bad tomatoes. Lots to do in preparation for the rain and cold. The warm weekend bought us another light round of picking but little more. Gizzie set about getting the van packed for today's big money market. The foreman took off on a road trip out of state-- he was picking up a bulk order of jam jars (we couldn't wait for delivery). So it was just me and Newport.
First up: we took the machete down to the lower fields and cut/bundled up cornstalks. The boss is donating a few hundred bunches to different churches/temples around town so they can be festively decorated for Fall. It was extremely fast work. After stowing away the stalks away, we grabbed buckets and headed up to the forest field-- one last lightning round of string bean picking. The rows were extremely lean-- few beans and no new flower buds. It took the entire double row of the yellow wax beans to fill 1/3 a bucket. The greens were coming out better-- we each filled half a bucket through the course of half a double row. We dumped off the beans with the daughter in the store, then it was time for pre-winter cleaning. We headed down into the pasture around the horse pond and disconnected/stacked up the galvanized steel irrigation pipes (unused since July/early August).The boss's brother wants to harrow out the crab grass and plant something more nutritious for horse grazing, so we dragged all the cinder blocks/logs/stones out of the way. It was lunch time.
I had a late lunch. I figured out a little arrangement to solve the problem of sun/air drying the onions Darlin and I picked Saturday. I laid out 10 plastic mesh trays, poured the onions in, sifted out the dirt and left them to bake in the sun.
Just as I was about to sit down to my sandwich, the boss's brother hollered over-- the cows had escaped again. I ran with him across the street and saw 2 calves had escaped-- I blocked them off from the road as the brother scooted up from behind. It's almost a matter of course at this point: the calves went in without a problem. Lunch time.
The foreman finally returned from his jar journey-- we headed to the forest fields again for one last sweep through the eggplant. Everything, any size, had to go-- still we narrowly filled 3 buckets.
We dropped off the eggplant at the store, then loaded up with buckets and hoes-- the great potato harvest begins. The foreman drove us up the hilltop and took out the field chart-- it's no longer a matter of how much we need (buckets per market/per CSA/per day), everything needs to get pulled from the ground. We picked one of the odd-ball varieties we haven't touched yet and got to work. I can't remember the name of the variety, but these were huge potatoes-- soft ball sized and larger. We hoed through the rest of the day-- filling 18 buckets with just the one variety. We finished the row just a little after closing.
All the potato buckets were stashed beneath the back awning, then I stacked all the onion racks into the store for safe keeping/dew protection. Whew. Homeward.
Drinking with Gizzie tonight? Hope so, I got a few dollars and a liver burning holes through my pockets.
Take it easy.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Lonely Onions
It has been a while. We narrowly dodged all of last week's frosts-- only a few pumpkin vines were nipped in the low lying areas. The cold front has been pushed out and we have a settled heat-- 80F over the weekend.
Friday was another straight picking day-- dawn to dusk. But, Darlin came up to visit for the weekend! And, what's more-- she came with me to work on Saturday and held her own out in the fields! She was excited about the whole thing. We arrived early and helped the foreman set up the CSA-- the lettuce was in rough shape and needed to be picked through, everything needed a lot more attention than usual. Darlin's sunny disposition melted all the ice-- the foreman was supremely friendly-- he chatted our ears off.
Gizzie was manning the store front and the boss was busy talking to the families-- so Darlin and I lit out to the onion fields. We pulled 11 buckets full of onions (Darlin was a natural-- fast and consistent). After talking with the boss and Gizzie, we headed up to the forest fields and cut the few eggplants that survived the cold (2 buckets of big/oriental/fairytale-- only 2). After stacking up some winter squash in the greenhouse we noticed the CSA hours had passed, so we packed everything up and went off for a day of fun. Darlin certainly needs to come work more often-- time flew by.
Today
Full sun without a cloud in the sky. The temperature burned at 80F all day through. It was heaven.
Today was a loose holiday, so both the foreman and Newport took the day off to be with their girlfriends-- it was just Me, Gizzie, the boss and Old Rudolpho. We got the store arranged and ready, hoping for a rush of holiday customers, but very few actually showed. I climbed into the tractor and dumped off a few front loaders full of compost-- then it was off to join Rudolpho in the hilltop tomatoes. This was my first time taking the tractor uphill-- not bad, but going over the small/narrow stone bridge was terrifying. One wrong twist of the wheel and the tractor would flip 7ft down into the big stream. I crawled along in the lowest gear possible.
I forgot to mention earlier, but Saturday was Old Rudolpho's Nephew's last day. His name is Marco and he's a good fella. His son is very sick and waiting to undergo a series of big operations-- so Marco sends all his pay back home to cover the bill. Darlin speaks Spanish-- so we finally got to have a real conversation with Marco and Old Rudolpho. When it was time for him to go-- I shook Marco's hand, 'See you next year' he said.
(I am learning to speak Spanish this winter)
It was just me and the old man on the hill top-- just us and the tomatoes. Old Rudolpho thought it was good that Darlin liked to work, he said she was a good woman and very pretty. We laughed and picked non-stop until lunch.
The boss kicked Gizzie out of the store, saying-- you're skin and bones, go get pizza with your friend. So we went and had pizza.
Endless tomatoes. Old Rudolpho and I make a pretty efficient team. We cleared the entire top field-- 74 full buckets total. I started carting them back to the barn with the tractor-- 20 some buckets at a time. The boss went off to a friend's barbecue after lunch-- so there were only the 3 of us left. But picking/packing the tomatoes wiped Old Rudolpho out, so he called it an early day. Only me and Gizzie remained.
A lot still needed to be done, but daylight was growing short. I took off and carted back the 11 buckets of onions that Darlin and I picked Saturday (the foreman must have forgotten them). Then I headed down to the trellised tomatoes/remainders of the big field, giving them a quick walk through. They were in rough shape-- I only filled 2 buckets over the course of 15 rows.
I stowed away the tractor for the night, then had a few long cigarettes with Gizzie out behind the store.
Homeward.
Asides:
Fall erupted this weekend-- the leaves started to turn en mass.
Had many drinks with Gizzie last night at "The End" bar (too many). I finally got around to asking my friend-- what he thought about joining up with me, moving down to the city over the winter. I told him just to think about it (lots of nitty-gritties to be sorted out)-- but he seemed interested. It would give us the chance to work on any number of the endless silly projects we've concocted between ourselves over the years/farm days.
There was a visitor today-- our friend Moats's father came to drop off a gift. He is an artist and has been sketching scenes around the farm-- he framed one and gave it to the boss. It's hanging up in the store, but I haven't gotten a chance to check it out yet. Mighty nice gesture-- didn't even realize that he'd started, much less finished, these farm pieces.
More, more, more to talk about, but I'm still getting my head all sorted after this weekend. We'll talk later in the week.
Take it easy.
Friday was another straight picking day-- dawn to dusk. But, Darlin came up to visit for the weekend! And, what's more-- she came with me to work on Saturday and held her own out in the fields! She was excited about the whole thing. We arrived early and helped the foreman set up the CSA-- the lettuce was in rough shape and needed to be picked through, everything needed a lot more attention than usual. Darlin's sunny disposition melted all the ice-- the foreman was supremely friendly-- he chatted our ears off.
Gizzie was manning the store front and the boss was busy talking to the families-- so Darlin and I lit out to the onion fields. We pulled 11 buckets full of onions (Darlin was a natural-- fast and consistent). After talking with the boss and Gizzie, we headed up to the forest fields and cut the few eggplants that survived the cold (2 buckets of big/oriental/fairytale-- only 2). After stacking up some winter squash in the greenhouse we noticed the CSA hours had passed, so we packed everything up and went off for a day of fun. Darlin certainly needs to come work more often-- time flew by.
Today
Full sun without a cloud in the sky. The temperature burned at 80F all day through. It was heaven.
Today was a loose holiday, so both the foreman and Newport took the day off to be with their girlfriends-- it was just Me, Gizzie, the boss and Old Rudolpho. We got the store arranged and ready, hoping for a rush of holiday customers, but very few actually showed. I climbed into the tractor and dumped off a few front loaders full of compost-- then it was off to join Rudolpho in the hilltop tomatoes. This was my first time taking the tractor uphill-- not bad, but going over the small/narrow stone bridge was terrifying. One wrong twist of the wheel and the tractor would flip 7ft down into the big stream. I crawled along in the lowest gear possible.
I forgot to mention earlier, but Saturday was Old Rudolpho's Nephew's last day. His name is Marco and he's a good fella. His son is very sick and waiting to undergo a series of big operations-- so Marco sends all his pay back home to cover the bill. Darlin speaks Spanish-- so we finally got to have a real conversation with Marco and Old Rudolpho. When it was time for him to go-- I shook Marco's hand, 'See you next year' he said.
(I am learning to speak Spanish this winter)
It was just me and the old man on the hill top-- just us and the tomatoes. Old Rudolpho thought it was good that Darlin liked to work, he said she was a good woman and very pretty. We laughed and picked non-stop until lunch.
The boss kicked Gizzie out of the store, saying-- you're skin and bones, go get pizza with your friend. So we went and had pizza.
Endless tomatoes. Old Rudolpho and I make a pretty efficient team. We cleared the entire top field-- 74 full buckets total. I started carting them back to the barn with the tractor-- 20 some buckets at a time. The boss went off to a friend's barbecue after lunch-- so there were only the 3 of us left. But picking/packing the tomatoes wiped Old Rudolpho out, so he called it an early day. Only me and Gizzie remained.
A lot still needed to be done, but daylight was growing short. I took off and carted back the 11 buckets of onions that Darlin and I picked Saturday (the foreman must have forgotten them). Then I headed down to the trellised tomatoes/remainders of the big field, giving them a quick walk through. They were in rough shape-- I only filled 2 buckets over the course of 15 rows.
I stowed away the tractor for the night, then had a few long cigarettes with Gizzie out behind the store.
Homeward.
Asides:
Fall erupted this weekend-- the leaves started to turn en mass.
Had many drinks with Gizzie last night at "The End" bar (too many). I finally got around to asking my friend-- what he thought about joining up with me, moving down to the city over the winter. I told him just to think about it (lots of nitty-gritties to be sorted out)-- but he seemed interested. It would give us the chance to work on any number of the endless silly projects we've concocted between ourselves over the years/farm days.
There was a visitor today-- our friend Moats's father came to drop off a gift. He is an artist and has been sketching scenes around the farm-- he framed one and gave it to the boss. It's hanging up in the store, but I haven't gotten a chance to check it out yet. Mighty nice gesture-- didn't even realize that he'd started, much less finished, these farm pieces.
More, more, more to talk about, but I'm still getting my head all sorted after this weekend. We'll talk later in the week.
Take it easy.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Lost 'Em in the Onions
Clear skies and sunny. The temperature was a cold 58% at its warmest.
Newport was busy seeing to some legal matters, so it was Gizzie, the foreman and me this morning. We stocked up the store and cleaned out the wagons for today's CSA (only a few more weeks left). The boss and I headed down to the greenhouse for winter squash-- but picking in the mud makes for messy fruits, every single one needed to be wiped down. So the boss and I cleaned up a loader full of butternut, one of buttercup and one of acorn squash. We talked over end of the season preparations, frost preparations and the like, Gizzie had told him that Darlin had been arrested-- so I gave him the story. He chuckled and said he understands-- it was much more common in his generation, he said, protesting is necessary: no one cares how people feel/what they want unless the powers that be are forced to reconcile. He was a little disappointed that me and Gizzie missed the big multi-state agro-fair-- it's a sight to see, he said. We had a lot of work to do in order to weather the deep frost tonight-- but picking/CSA always comes first.
I helped Gizzie arrange the CSA, today we had: 5 types of potatoes (Satina, Red Norlans, Red French Fingerlings, Yukon Golds and Kennebunks), butternut, buttercup, acorn squash, green/romaine lettuce (bought in), cabbage, big tomatoes, corn, fairytale/oriental/big eggplant, red/green/italian peppers, swiss chard, dinosaur/red boar kale and tiny ornamental pumpkins. I followed the boss out in the tractor to load up a few more bags of corn (15 bags)-- dumped some for the storefront, some for market and the rest for CSA. Gizzie and I hit the sinks to prep up 3 boxes of carrots for the store-- finished up just in time for lunch.
Gizzie and I were feeling a bit lazy today, so we dined like kings at the pizza place in town.
After lunch we bustled to get the compost/cardboard trash all dumped away, then we packed up Gizzie for market and sent him on his way. Newport was back and manically happy that all his legal concerns worked out for the best-- we swept up around the wagons and got things pretty. The greenhouse's back window had taken a bit of wind damage-- the plastic layering had torn loose from its bracing. We stretched everything back into place and nailed the whole mess up tight. Time to pick.
We grabbed 25 buckets and headed up hill. First up was the broccoli-- I focused on trimming back the over-mature buds/flowers as Newport/the foreman followed behind chopping the good stuff. We filled 8 buckets of broccoli. The cabbage was looking good (in places), so we hacked out 30 heads worth and packed the front loader. Finally, we turned to the tomato field. Frost is a fickle thing. Every degree around or below the 32F freezing point dictates just how screwed the plants will be. 33F-- not bad, things will recover fine. 32F-- not bad, things can recover with some nice sun. 31F-- bad, many plants die outright or their leaves are singed. 30F-- very bad, most plants die and leaves will be singed. 29F-- killer, almost all veggies die completely. So even 1/2 a degree makes a big difference. The hilltop tomatoes are positioned to do well, but all the same we culled through and picked 17 buckets worth of anything with the slightest color. Some tomatoes are better than none. This weekend is gonna be warm and beautiful, but we'll see what survives into tomorrow-- the heat might not make a difference.
As we loaded the tomatoes into the barn, the boss pulled up and called me over-- time for another tomato run. Old Rudolpho and his nephew had picked over the entire big field-- but only had 20 buckets to show. I loaded 'em into the van and it was back to the barn. Once the tomatoes were stowed away we closed up the barn and greenhouse-- day was done.
It is freezing-- the summer months have turned me soft. Maybe I'll go meet Gizzie for a late night drink, but then again-- it maybe too cold to move. Darlin is coming tomorrow to stay the weekend-- she's planning on working with me on the farm this Saturday. Should be pretty fine.
Take it easy.
Newport was busy seeing to some legal matters, so it was Gizzie, the foreman and me this morning. We stocked up the store and cleaned out the wagons for today's CSA (only a few more weeks left). The boss and I headed down to the greenhouse for winter squash-- but picking in the mud makes for messy fruits, every single one needed to be wiped down. So the boss and I cleaned up a loader full of butternut, one of buttercup and one of acorn squash. We talked over end of the season preparations, frost preparations and the like, Gizzie had told him that Darlin had been arrested-- so I gave him the story. He chuckled and said he understands-- it was much more common in his generation, he said, protesting is necessary: no one cares how people feel/what they want unless the powers that be are forced to reconcile. He was a little disappointed that me and Gizzie missed the big multi-state agro-fair-- it's a sight to see, he said. We had a lot of work to do in order to weather the deep frost tonight-- but picking/CSA always comes first.
I helped Gizzie arrange the CSA, today we had: 5 types of potatoes (Satina, Red Norlans, Red French Fingerlings, Yukon Golds and Kennebunks), butternut, buttercup, acorn squash, green/romaine lettuce (bought in), cabbage, big tomatoes, corn, fairytale/oriental/big eggplant, red/green/italian peppers, swiss chard, dinosaur/red boar kale and tiny ornamental pumpkins. I followed the boss out in the tractor to load up a few more bags of corn (15 bags)-- dumped some for the storefront, some for market and the rest for CSA. Gizzie and I hit the sinks to prep up 3 boxes of carrots for the store-- finished up just in time for lunch.
Gizzie and I were feeling a bit lazy today, so we dined like kings at the pizza place in town.
After lunch we bustled to get the compost/cardboard trash all dumped away, then we packed up Gizzie for market and sent him on his way. Newport was back and manically happy that all his legal concerns worked out for the best-- we swept up around the wagons and got things pretty. The greenhouse's back window had taken a bit of wind damage-- the plastic layering had torn loose from its bracing. We stretched everything back into place and nailed the whole mess up tight. Time to pick.
We grabbed 25 buckets and headed up hill. First up was the broccoli-- I focused on trimming back the over-mature buds/flowers as Newport/the foreman followed behind chopping the good stuff. We filled 8 buckets of broccoli. The cabbage was looking good (in places), so we hacked out 30 heads worth and packed the front loader. Finally, we turned to the tomato field. Frost is a fickle thing. Every degree around or below the 32F freezing point dictates just how screwed the plants will be. 33F-- not bad, things will recover fine. 32F-- not bad, things can recover with some nice sun. 31F-- bad, many plants die outright or their leaves are singed. 30F-- very bad, most plants die and leaves will be singed. 29F-- killer, almost all veggies die completely. So even 1/2 a degree makes a big difference. The hilltop tomatoes are positioned to do well, but all the same we culled through and picked 17 buckets worth of anything with the slightest color. Some tomatoes are better than none. This weekend is gonna be warm and beautiful, but we'll see what survives into tomorrow-- the heat might not make a difference.
As we loaded the tomatoes into the barn, the boss pulled up and called me over-- time for another tomato run. Old Rudolpho and his nephew had picked over the entire big field-- but only had 20 buckets to show. I loaded 'em into the van and it was back to the barn. Once the tomatoes were stowed away we closed up the barn and greenhouse-- day was done.
It is freezing-- the summer months have turned me soft. Maybe I'll go meet Gizzie for a late night drink, but then again-- it maybe too cold to move. Darlin is coming tomorrow to stay the weekend-- she's planning on working with me on the farm this Saturday. Should be pretty fine.
Take it easy.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Frosting
Sunny all day through. A cold front is finally pushing off the big rain rotation, but the temperature peaked in the low 60Fs and settled in the mid 50Fs. A light frost is due tonight-- tomorrow night, however, a serious frost is coming (they're calling for 29F overnight). It's time for the last hard rush.
The boss is still mulling over Viking's letter-- he talked with us a bit this morning about business. The foreman, Newport and I didn't have much to say-- the season is winding down fast and our only concern is working up enough dollars to last the winter. We saddled up the wagon to the tractor and rolled up the hilltop. It was a picking bonanza-- we filled the wagon with ever sugar pumpkin, and then piled up the front loader with all the acorn squash and a few stray buttercup.
Newport and I set up a little ground cover over one of the dead gardens around the store-- we piled it high with the sugar pumpkins. The foreman got himself into a predicament-- while dumping off the acorn squash into the greenhouse he forgot to shut the tractor's cab door (the glass shattered). Embarrassed as all hell he cleaned up every speck and offered to cover the repair costs. The accident aside-- the greenhouse is loaded with 3 mountains of squash, they're ready to weather out the frost.
It was time for some serious picking. The boss came with us down to the big gardens and we pulled 25 or so of the enormous novelty sized pumpkins. The biggest weighed 250lbs, and even the smallest was 90lbs. Using the tractor, we carted them out to the store front and plopped them all around the fence/gardens and roof posts. The sea of orange really brightens up the place. Lunch time.
Lunch was cut short when the wholesaler arrived-- 40 boxes going out. I started loading the 10lb boxes from the barn into the truck, when another big truck pulled in. It was a delivery of 500 more tomato shipping boxes (this 40 box shipment was all the cardboard we had left). The boss had 1000 boxes delivered earlier thi summer, so 10,000 lbs have gone to just the wholesaler-- an equal or greater amount headed to the markets/store/CSA. I think it's a fair guess that we cleared the 20,000lb or 22,000lb tomato marker so far this season. I scrubbed up yesterdays potatoes while waiting for the boys to get back from their lunch.
Off to the big pumpkin field. We rolled through the patch and once again filled the wagon and front loader to over flowing. There's next to nothing out there now, it looks pretty sad. You can always tell a season is almost dead when the pumpkins are outta the field. Back at the store, I climbed up the pumpkin mountain and hurled them down to the foreman and Newport. They arranged another sea of orange to surround the giant novelty pumpkins, cover the gardens over and stretch out along the parking lot. Newport and I hefted up the biggest monster pumpkin and propped it against a post, surrounding it/supporting it with the biggest green pumpkins we could find. Viking was covering the store today (her only shift now)-- she has some horrifying ideas for the monster. She might paint something, or-- her favorite idea-- hollow out the inside and cut it to look like a casket, then put a spooky doll inside. I laughed my head off-- just thinking of the endless irate parents we'd have to deal with.
Time to finish the potatoes. We crawled up the hilltop one last time and got busy pulling. We filled 4 buckets of Nikola and 4 buckets of the Reds. Big potatoes are a blessing, the buckets fill quick. We horsed around on the hill a while and then finally down to the store for scrubbing. My day ended early-- my mother needed a lift to the doctor's office-- so it was time to get going. I chatted with the boss and foreman for a few minutes, then got on my way.
I bet more emergency picking is in order tomorrow. Thursday's frost will be heavy. The peppers will die, the basil will die, the string beans will die and the eggplant will die. The tomatoes should be fine-- especially the young field on top of the hill (it stays warmer up there, as the cold settles in the valley-- the boss intentionally plants the late crops accordingly). The cherry tomatoes might be killed off -- they've grown too old to easily shrug off bad weather. All my secret berry hopes also die on Thursday-- whatever the weather afterward, the frost will end the raspberries. I'm not sure how the corn will weather, I'll have to ask the boss. It's back to cold weather crops and clean up work.
Take it easy.
The boss is still mulling over Viking's letter-- he talked with us a bit this morning about business. The foreman, Newport and I didn't have much to say-- the season is winding down fast and our only concern is working up enough dollars to last the winter. We saddled up the wagon to the tractor and rolled up the hilltop. It was a picking bonanza-- we filled the wagon with ever sugar pumpkin, and then piled up the front loader with all the acorn squash and a few stray buttercup.
Newport and I set up a little ground cover over one of the dead gardens around the store-- we piled it high with the sugar pumpkins. The foreman got himself into a predicament-- while dumping off the acorn squash into the greenhouse he forgot to shut the tractor's cab door (the glass shattered). Embarrassed as all hell he cleaned up every speck and offered to cover the repair costs. The accident aside-- the greenhouse is loaded with 3 mountains of squash, they're ready to weather out the frost.
It was time for some serious picking. The boss came with us down to the big gardens and we pulled 25 or so of the enormous novelty sized pumpkins. The biggest weighed 250lbs, and even the smallest was 90lbs. Using the tractor, we carted them out to the store front and plopped them all around the fence/gardens and roof posts. The sea of orange really brightens up the place. Lunch time.
Lunch was cut short when the wholesaler arrived-- 40 boxes going out. I started loading the 10lb boxes from the barn into the truck, when another big truck pulled in. It was a delivery of 500 more tomato shipping boxes (this 40 box shipment was all the cardboard we had left). The boss had 1000 boxes delivered earlier thi summer, so 10,000 lbs have gone to just the wholesaler-- an equal or greater amount headed to the markets/store/CSA. I think it's a fair guess that we cleared the 20,000lb or 22,000lb tomato marker so far this season. I scrubbed up yesterdays potatoes while waiting for the boys to get back from their lunch.
Off to the big pumpkin field. We rolled through the patch and once again filled the wagon and front loader to over flowing. There's next to nothing out there now, it looks pretty sad. You can always tell a season is almost dead when the pumpkins are outta the field. Back at the store, I climbed up the pumpkin mountain and hurled them down to the foreman and Newport. They arranged another sea of orange to surround the giant novelty pumpkins, cover the gardens over and stretch out along the parking lot. Newport and I hefted up the biggest monster pumpkin and propped it against a post, surrounding it/supporting it with the biggest green pumpkins we could find. Viking was covering the store today (her only shift now)-- she has some horrifying ideas for the monster. She might paint something, or-- her favorite idea-- hollow out the inside and cut it to look like a casket, then put a spooky doll inside. I laughed my head off-- just thinking of the endless irate parents we'd have to deal with.
Time to finish the potatoes. We crawled up the hilltop one last time and got busy pulling. We filled 4 buckets of Nikola and 4 buckets of the Reds. Big potatoes are a blessing, the buckets fill quick. We horsed around on the hill a while and then finally down to the store for scrubbing. My day ended early-- my mother needed a lift to the doctor's office-- so it was time to get going. I chatted with the boss and foreman for a few minutes, then got on my way.
I bet more emergency picking is in order tomorrow. Thursday's frost will be heavy. The peppers will die, the basil will die, the string beans will die and the eggplant will die. The tomatoes should be fine-- especially the young field on top of the hill (it stays warmer up there, as the cold settles in the valley-- the boss intentionally plants the late crops accordingly). The cherry tomatoes might be killed off -- they've grown too old to easily shrug off bad weather. All my secret berry hopes also die on Thursday-- whatever the weather afterward, the frost will end the raspberries. I'm not sure how the corn will weather, I'll have to ask the boss. It's back to cold weather crops and clean up work.
Take it easy.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
People of the Mud
Cold today. It started slightly sunny this morning, but the heavy clouds came at noon-- carried on an icy breeze. The rain started and hasn't let up. Temperature climbed down to 54F-- hung there all day.
Today was the big money market-- the outlook was bleak. But the boss had other concerns-- Gizzie and Newport packed together the market boxes, while the boss, foreman and I headed over to the pasture. More cows had escaped this morning. The woman who owns the horses(and boards at the boss's brother's house) rounded the cows out of the blueberry fields and back into the fence. We had some major fence repairs to do.
I'm pretty quick at tearing a fence apart (the weeks of re-fencing back in March taught me how to bash/rip with the best of 'em). We untangled all the broken barbed wire and I tore out all the iron staples (gotta be careful not to lose a single one-- the stupid cows eat 'em and slice their innards into confetti). I kicked and dragged out the broken fence posts-- then the foreman rolled up with the auger tractor and drilled new holes. We dropped the posts, tamped them in solid and hammered the staples back (holding the barbed wire in place). 10 posts needed replacing-- then we spliced together all the torn up wire. The boss cranked the wire around a corner post (getting the barbed wire nice and taut) and I bashed more staples into place. All done. Most of the herd was 20ft off watching us, groaning and calling back and forth-- Lucy ran around harassing the bull, good for her.
Before heading back to the store, the boss noticed one cow way out alone in the back fields. A bit concerned,we went to go check on things. But no need for worry-- she was with a freshly born calf. That makes 11-- every cow who could birth did. The boss was happy-- the mother was attentive (staring us down and circling close to the baby, a good sign), the calf was on its feet and strong. Driving back across the pasture we spotted an enormous coyote pacing along the wood's edge.
Back to the day's scheduled business. A frost warning is out for this Thursday. It's time to pull as much of everything as possible. Winter squash was up first. The foreman, Newport and I headed up the hill top to the butternut-- everything had to go. We cleared 8 rows before lunch. (We're piling the squash into mountains inside the greenhouse to protect it from the cold).
After lunch the foreman and I headed back up for more butternut-- Newport stayed behind to mind the store while the boss's daughter went to lunch. Mid way through the remaining squash rows the rain came. It took 4 full front loader trips to clear the field. Newport sauntered up to join us and we hit the buttercup. Old Rudolpho and his nephew were out picking tomatoes-- they fell asleep under a wagon, waiting for the rain to end.
We cleared all the buttercup-- taking everything, even the unripe-- it only took 2 full front loaders. Newport and I slogged through the mud to get a start pulling potatoes. CSA went through 16 buckets worth last week (and that barely tied them over), so this week we're getting 20 buckets. Hoeing through the mud is slow, heavy, miserable work. Covered head to toe in mud-- it became difficult to keep hold of the hoe's pole, the mud slicked and slid everywhere. We inched along-- got 3 1/2 buckets of red french fingerlings, 4 buckets of yukon golds and 4 buckets of Kennebunk. Small mercies-- it was closing time. So 8 buckets left for tomorrow.
We rode downhill, unloaded the potatoes and sunk home.
I got a lot of clean up/repair work to do tonight-- boots, pants, jackets, everything needs fixing.
Tomorrow's supposed to be sunny, here's hoping.
Take it easy.
Today was the big money market-- the outlook was bleak. But the boss had other concerns-- Gizzie and Newport packed together the market boxes, while the boss, foreman and I headed over to the pasture. More cows had escaped this morning. The woman who owns the horses(and boards at the boss's brother's house) rounded the cows out of the blueberry fields and back into the fence. We had some major fence repairs to do.
I'm pretty quick at tearing a fence apart (the weeks of re-fencing back in March taught me how to bash/rip with the best of 'em). We untangled all the broken barbed wire and I tore out all the iron staples (gotta be careful not to lose a single one-- the stupid cows eat 'em and slice their innards into confetti). I kicked and dragged out the broken fence posts-- then the foreman rolled up with the auger tractor and drilled new holes. We dropped the posts, tamped them in solid and hammered the staples back (holding the barbed wire in place). 10 posts needed replacing-- then we spliced together all the torn up wire. The boss cranked the wire around a corner post (getting the barbed wire nice and taut) and I bashed more staples into place. All done. Most of the herd was 20ft off watching us, groaning and calling back and forth-- Lucy ran around harassing the bull, good for her.
Before heading back to the store, the boss noticed one cow way out alone in the back fields. A bit concerned,we went to go check on things. But no need for worry-- she was with a freshly born calf. That makes 11-- every cow who could birth did. The boss was happy-- the mother was attentive (staring us down and circling close to the baby, a good sign), the calf was on its feet and strong. Driving back across the pasture we spotted an enormous coyote pacing along the wood's edge.
Back to the day's scheduled business. A frost warning is out for this Thursday. It's time to pull as much of everything as possible. Winter squash was up first. The foreman, Newport and I headed up the hill top to the butternut-- everything had to go. We cleared 8 rows before lunch. (We're piling the squash into mountains inside the greenhouse to protect it from the cold).
After lunch the foreman and I headed back up for more butternut-- Newport stayed behind to mind the store while the boss's daughter went to lunch. Mid way through the remaining squash rows the rain came. It took 4 full front loader trips to clear the field. Newport sauntered up to join us and we hit the buttercup. Old Rudolpho and his nephew were out picking tomatoes-- they fell asleep under a wagon, waiting for the rain to end.
We cleared all the buttercup-- taking everything, even the unripe-- it only took 2 full front loaders. Newport and I slogged through the mud to get a start pulling potatoes. CSA went through 16 buckets worth last week (and that barely tied them over), so this week we're getting 20 buckets. Hoeing through the mud is slow, heavy, miserable work. Covered head to toe in mud-- it became difficult to keep hold of the hoe's pole, the mud slicked and slid everywhere. We inched along-- got 3 1/2 buckets of red french fingerlings, 4 buckets of yukon golds and 4 buckets of Kennebunk. Small mercies-- it was closing time. So 8 buckets left for tomorrow.
We rode downhill, unloaded the potatoes and sunk home.
I got a lot of clean up/repair work to do tonight-- boots, pants, jackets, everything needs fixing.
Tomorrow's supposed to be sunny, here's hoping.
Take it easy.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Unexpected Marches
It was a big weekend.
I planned on writing up a post for Saturday, but things changed fast.
Here's a shot from the pilot's seat. I got a lot of tractor work done Saturday morning (once I reminded the boss that he'd taught me how to drive it). Picked up a couple loads of corn, dumped off a lot of trash and shifted around a few tons of sugar pumpkins. It was pouring rain all day through, so the mud driving was a little tricky (I can see now why the left and right wheel turning brakes are necessary). The CSA was pretty uneventful-- just a slow rainy day. I talked to Darlin-- she was headed to a political march in the city.
I headed home and puttered about repairing my boots, washing the work clothes and tending to my foot rot. Then things snow balled fast. Darlin sent me a series of terrified messages through her cell phone-- she was trapped on a bridge boxed in by riot police. We went back and forth as I tried to calm her down, she was justifiably panicked. Then the messages stopped. I was beside myself worrying. Hours passed as I chained cigarettes on the porch, calling every single person I knew in the city-- hoping somebody could tell me something, anything about what happened. Then news started to trickle through the internet-- 700 people arrested on the bridge where Darlin was trapped. I flipped into a frenzy.
I met Gizzie and his girlfriend for a drink we'd planned on all week. Except I couldn't sit around any longer. Gizzie bought me a beer as I told them what was itching me. I took my leave, packed a bag, grabbed a few hundred dollars out of the rainy day fund and got into the car-- I was going to the city. It was late, but I made arrangements with a good friend to crash at her apartment. I drove.
On the long highway I started to rethink the whole wild ride-- then I thought of Darlin handcuffed up in a prison cell somewhere. The thought nearly gave me a simultaneous heart attack and stroke from rage. No stops, no slowing down-- it was all speed, rage and every horrible possibility playing through my head.
I pulled into the city at 1:45am. I parked my car and ran to meet my friend-- tossed down my crap on her couch. She couldn't believe the situation was real, but said first things first. We headed over to a bar to cool my head with liquor and talk things over. My friend tried to take my mind off the panic-- but I stewed. I kept thinking-- here I am trying to comfort myself while Darlin's rotting/weeping in a cell somewhere. I couldn't handle the bar for another second-- sucked down my pint in a breath and stomped out. Then I finally got through to Darlin's father.
He'd found her and was at the precinct where she was being processed-- and best yet, she was due to be released within the hour. I ran to the subway, but didn't know where to go-- I'm no city man. Darlin's father called again, she was free and he said to meet at her apartment. It was 4:30am. I collected my things from my friend's apartment and we ran down to Darlin's street. We found an open store-- I bought ten bouquets of flowers and 2 of the classiest 6 packs of beer they had. All that was left was to wait. My friend and I camped out on Darlin's stoop.
After a half hour or so, they pulled up. I squeezed Darlin till she nearly broke. But she was fine and in fantastic spirits. The women in jail with her were sweethearts and it was more of a braiding/chatting party than a night in prison. I piled her with flowers-- we broke out the beers and toasted again and again. Darlin's father and I had a few cigarettes outside-- he'd received a message seconds before Darlin was arrested, he dropped everything and took off for the city too. He waited for 6 hours at the precinct while the police tried to figure out what to do with 700 people. It was good to see him and we were all smiles.
Darlin was exhausted, had a borderline case of hypothermia and starved. It was food, warmth and time for bed.
So Darlin was arrested for marching with the city. She was kettled in, quick-tied and left to sit in the rain on the bridge as the police fetched buses to ferry them off for processing. She and all the others waited in cells while the police figured out their business. Originally, all 700 were to receive criminal charges-- but it became apparent that the city didn't have the resources to manage such a fiasco (they're struggling as it is, hardly able to keep up with arrests/processing/paperwork/trials for serious crime). So they were all given traffic violation tickets. Whew-- it worked out somehow.
Darlin couldn't believe that I came down, though she seemed awful happy to see me. We spent Sunday patching her back together and talking everything over. Then it was time for me to get driving.
I got home around midnight-- just enough time to meet Gizzie for a late night drink. At "The End" bar, I told him everything that'd happened-- he seemed a bit overwhelmed by it all. We drank and went home.
Back to Work.
It started sunny this morning, then dark clouds and cold air blew in from the south. Temperature made the lower 70Fs before noon, but dipped hard to the upper 50Fs.
Newport was a mess this morning. He was pale as a ghost, sweaty and spitting out yellow oysters every other minute. The boss sent Newport home the second he laid eyes on him. The boss asked him-- what are you doing, coming in half alive like this? Newport sounded like a ghost when he said-- Just trying to keep the bills paid boss.
Gizzie, the foreman, Old Rudolpho, his nephew and I spent a few hours down in the barn polishing the last remaining buckets of tomatoes lingering from the weekend. Then it was time for picking. We all shipped up to the forest field to pick string beans. Gizzie and I set down in the wax beans, we crept along talking madness and bullshit-- we finished the long row just in time for lunch.
The boss's daughter was very upset at the store. We ate our sandwiches as she told us that her father had made her scrub potatoes-- she like that one bit and wanted us to do it instead. We laughed and kept eating. Fortunately fate intervened-- excusing us from being potato slaves.
The boss rolled up midway through lunch. He yelled us over, he said-- cows got out. Gizzie and I hopped into the back of the van and we sped over to the pasture.
I saw the big cow right away-- trotting off into the woods. Then I saw her calf laying down relaxing in the brush. We fanned out-- the boss and Gizzie stood between the cow/calf and the road, while I circled wide around them through the woods. The boss told me to take it slow and easy so as not to spook 'em into doing something crazy. I strolled over logs and though a marsh, then drove the mama cow back toward the gate. Everything was going so well--until the calf got spooked. It took off toward the boss and Gizzie, doubled back toward me in a panic and then leaped through the barbed wire fence. This was my first time wrangling cows-- in the Spring I kicked them away from bonfires, but that was pretty straight forward. I should have ran at the mama cow-- getting her mind off the calf and driving her to the gate. Instead, I kept up my fast stroll
trying not to spook it-- the mama took off after the calf. Leaping straight into the barbed wire fence. A calf is spry and small-- a cow is not. She tore through, but her hind legs got jumbled in the wire. The cow kicked and struggled. After some tense minutes, she gave another leap and broke free.
The boss was pissed. Luckily the fence wasn't broken and the cow was only scratched up a little. He told me I should have run, so now I know.
Back at the store, Gizzie and I grabbed buckets, then headed back to the beans. We finished the wax and started the green beans. With Old Rudolpho, his nephew and the foreman we cleared the rows in a few more hours' picking. Onto the next order of business.
We loaded 50 buckets into the tractor and rode up to the hilltop-- it was tomato time. I chatted with the foreman for a bit as we looked over the broccoli, cabbage and brussel sprouts (doesn't look like they'll grow fast enough for a crop, just like last year). Then to business. We filled the 50 buckets easily, the foreman grabbed another 20 and we marched the rows until closing time.
The sun is sinking earlier and earlier. The cold is settling down for longer. It sure is Fall.
What a series of days it has been. Nothing to do but hunker down and pull hard until the season's close. We all know our time is coming soon enough-- not enough to do over winter for all of us. So it's time to plan and wait.
Take it easy.
I planned on writing up a post for Saturday, but things changed fast.
I headed home and puttered about repairing my boots, washing the work clothes and tending to my foot rot. Then things snow balled fast. Darlin sent me a series of terrified messages through her cell phone-- she was trapped on a bridge boxed in by riot police. We went back and forth as I tried to calm her down, she was justifiably panicked. Then the messages stopped. I was beside myself worrying. Hours passed as I chained cigarettes on the porch, calling every single person I knew in the city-- hoping somebody could tell me something, anything about what happened. Then news started to trickle through the internet-- 700 people arrested on the bridge where Darlin was trapped. I flipped into a frenzy.
I met Gizzie and his girlfriend for a drink we'd planned on all week. Except I couldn't sit around any longer. Gizzie bought me a beer as I told them what was itching me. I took my leave, packed a bag, grabbed a few hundred dollars out of the rainy day fund and got into the car-- I was going to the city. It was late, but I made arrangements with a good friend to crash at her apartment. I drove.
On the long highway I started to rethink the whole wild ride-- then I thought of Darlin handcuffed up in a prison cell somewhere. The thought nearly gave me a simultaneous heart attack and stroke from rage. No stops, no slowing down-- it was all speed, rage and every horrible possibility playing through my head.
I pulled into the city at 1:45am. I parked my car and ran to meet my friend-- tossed down my crap on her couch. She couldn't believe the situation was real, but said first things first. We headed over to a bar to cool my head with liquor and talk things over. My friend tried to take my mind off the panic-- but I stewed. I kept thinking-- here I am trying to comfort myself while Darlin's rotting/weeping in a cell somewhere. I couldn't handle the bar for another second-- sucked down my pint in a breath and stomped out. Then I finally got through to Darlin's father.
He'd found her and was at the precinct where she was being processed-- and best yet, she was due to be released within the hour. I ran to the subway, but didn't know where to go-- I'm no city man. Darlin's father called again, she was free and he said to meet at her apartment. It was 4:30am. I collected my things from my friend's apartment and we ran down to Darlin's street. We found an open store-- I bought ten bouquets of flowers and 2 of the classiest 6 packs of beer they had. All that was left was to wait. My friend and I camped out on Darlin's stoop.
After a half hour or so, they pulled up. I squeezed Darlin till she nearly broke. But she was fine and in fantastic spirits. The women in jail with her were sweethearts and it was more of a braiding/chatting party than a night in prison. I piled her with flowers-- we broke out the beers and toasted again and again. Darlin's father and I had a few cigarettes outside-- he'd received a message seconds before Darlin was arrested, he dropped everything and took off for the city too. He waited for 6 hours at the precinct while the police tried to figure out what to do with 700 people. It was good to see him and we were all smiles.
Darlin was exhausted, had a borderline case of hypothermia and starved. It was food, warmth and time for bed.
So Darlin was arrested for marching with the city. She was kettled in, quick-tied and left to sit in the rain on the bridge as the police fetched buses to ferry them off for processing. She and all the others waited in cells while the police figured out their business. Originally, all 700 were to receive criminal charges-- but it became apparent that the city didn't have the resources to manage such a fiasco (they're struggling as it is, hardly able to keep up with arrests/processing/paperwork/trials for serious crime). So they were all given traffic violation tickets. Whew-- it worked out somehow.
Darlin couldn't believe that I came down, though she seemed awful happy to see me. We spent Sunday patching her back together and talking everything over. Then it was time for me to get driving.
I got home around midnight-- just enough time to meet Gizzie for a late night drink. At "The End" bar, I told him everything that'd happened-- he seemed a bit overwhelmed by it all. We drank and went home.
Back to Work.
It started sunny this morning, then dark clouds and cold air blew in from the south. Temperature made the lower 70Fs before noon, but dipped hard to the upper 50Fs.
Newport was a mess this morning. He was pale as a ghost, sweaty and spitting out yellow oysters every other minute. The boss sent Newport home the second he laid eyes on him. The boss asked him-- what are you doing, coming in half alive like this? Newport sounded like a ghost when he said-- Just trying to keep the bills paid boss.
Gizzie, the foreman, Old Rudolpho, his nephew and I spent a few hours down in the barn polishing the last remaining buckets of tomatoes lingering from the weekend. Then it was time for picking. We all shipped up to the forest field to pick string beans. Gizzie and I set down in the wax beans, we crept along talking madness and bullshit-- we finished the long row just in time for lunch.
The boss's daughter was very upset at the store. We ate our sandwiches as she told us that her father had made her scrub potatoes-- she like that one bit and wanted us to do it instead. We laughed and kept eating. Fortunately fate intervened-- excusing us from being potato slaves.
The boss rolled up midway through lunch. He yelled us over, he said-- cows got out. Gizzie and I hopped into the back of the van and we sped over to the pasture.
I saw the big cow right away-- trotting off into the woods. Then I saw her calf laying down relaxing in the brush. We fanned out-- the boss and Gizzie stood between the cow/calf and the road, while I circled wide around them through the woods. The boss told me to take it slow and easy so as not to spook 'em into doing something crazy. I strolled over logs and though a marsh, then drove the mama cow back toward the gate. Everything was going so well--until the calf got spooked. It took off toward the boss and Gizzie, doubled back toward me in a panic and then leaped through the barbed wire fence. This was my first time wrangling cows-- in the Spring I kicked them away from bonfires, but that was pretty straight forward. I should have ran at the mama cow-- getting her mind off the calf and driving her to the gate. Instead, I kept up my fast stroll
trying not to spook it-- the mama took off after the calf. Leaping straight into the barbed wire fence. A calf is spry and small-- a cow is not. She tore through, but her hind legs got jumbled in the wire. The cow kicked and struggled. After some tense minutes, she gave another leap and broke free.
The boss was pissed. Luckily the fence wasn't broken and the cow was only scratched up a little. He told me I should have run, so now I know.
Back at the store, Gizzie and I grabbed buckets, then headed back to the beans. We finished the wax and started the green beans. With Old Rudolpho, his nephew and the foreman we cleared the rows in a few more hours' picking. Onto the next order of business.
We loaded 50 buckets into the tractor and rode up to the hilltop-- it was tomato time. I chatted with the foreman for a bit as we looked over the broccoli, cabbage and brussel sprouts (doesn't look like they'll grow fast enough for a crop, just like last year). Then to business. We filled the 50 buckets easily, the foreman grabbed another 20 and we marched the rows until closing time.
The sun is sinking earlier and earlier. The cold is settling down for longer. It sure is Fall.
What a series of days it has been. Nothing to do but hunker down and pull hard until the season's close. We all know our time is coming soon enough-- not enough to do over winter for all of us. So it's time to plan and wait.
Take it easy.
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