Shining Through

Mostly sunny throughout the day, only a few odd clouds. Temperature never climbed above the low 70Fs.

It was a picking morning.
Gizzie and I got started setting up the boxes for today's big money market. Some of the pumpkins out in front of the store had started to rot and cave in, so we mulled through the rows and culled out the stinkers. Newport and I picked through the zucchini/summer squash rows alongside the greenhouse-- not much happening there anymore, but we still managed enough for market plus another bushel for the store. It was time to start the real business. The boss took me, Newport and the foreman down to the corn in the lower fields-- we picked 5 burlap sacks full. We headed straight up to the forest field: picked 3 buckets of green peppers, 2 buckets worth of beets, 1 bucket of oriental eggplant and 1 bucket of fat eggplant.

We sat around on the tractor talking with the boss awhile-- he's getting prepared to meet the congressman tomorrow. The nature of the visit has changed several times over-- as of now, it's all business. The congressman wants to see us going about our everyday routine, so he can get a feel for what it takes for small agriculture to stay afloat. The boss has a list of things he's ready to pounce on, but we'll have to wait until tomorrow for that.

Gizzie had the van mostly loaded up when we returned. We boxed up the haul and chilled the remainders. The boss took Gizzie and headed out for market, I slumped out back for lunch.


After lunch I headed down to join Old Rudolpho and his nephew for some tomato shining. I scrubbed like a man possessed. With all the buckets from yesterday it was a monumental job for just 3 people. It took the rest of the day--I stayed late with Old Rudolpho to finish the last 4 buckets (90 some buckets total, ~70ish 10lb boxes for wholesale, 24 big trays to ripen, 15 big trays of seconds).

The foreman dragged me up to the store for an emergency session midway through the tomatoes. A business woman had arrived and demanded 6 baskets of our holiday-gift-wrapped-jams-- problem was everything was stowed away in the barn. We tore the place apart, finding the nice wicker baskets/wrap paper/Styrofoam padding/ faux hay/shrink wrap. The foreman hauled out the jam while I assembled the basket/paper combinations-- I packed in the jams and hay, then the foreman sealed the shrink wrap over each with an industrial heat gun. The business woman was very apologetic about the last minute order, even while insisting we complete it  immediately. At least we got a heap of money in return.


Then back to the tomatoes, shining to sunset.


Tomorrow is the big day. My boots are all ready, I saved my good work pants (the only ones not riddled with holes all over the knees/thighs/pockets/ass). This weekend's plans are coming together-- Gizzie, his girlfriend, me and our dear mutual friend (we'll call him bonesaw) are going to the big regional carnival/agricultural fair. It's a big thing-- most people go for the carnie rides/booths/bullshit, but there's extensive seminars/competitions for all things agriculture. Several state farm bureaus chip in on the affair-- a union congress is even held there behind closed doors. The foreman went last weekend, and since we're all professional agriculturists-- the boss got him complimentary admission tickets/parking passes. Once the congressman fiasco is over tomorrow afternoon, I'm gonna see if I can get the boss to give our crew the same high class treatment. Anyway, it'll be good. I am gonna keep my eyes peeled for all things chickens/herding dogs.

But that's all a few days away. Tomorrow first.

Take it easy.