The rains last weekend set us up for some light days . Between the water and the boss's bank troubles, the money and work had run thin. Newport was coerced into a mandatory unpaid vacation week, while the boss and I fussed around with the store. The board of health was coming for their inspection on Thursday, so we gave the kitchen/store/bathrooms a deep double clean. I played the part of maintenance man, disassembling the condensers in the berry/soda coolers-- cleaned out the motor filters and generally poked about. We scrubbed our knuckles pink-- shinning up the ice cream implements and cleaning all the corrosion from the pipe work. The board of health only has so much jurisdiction over us-- they gauge the general cleanliness of our kitchen/bathrooms but they have no say over our produce/harvest infrastructure/methodology. Small agriculture exists under a magic pseudo-bureaucracy where no one really gums about in your business.
We passed the inspection, but couldn't escape a small list of recommended improvements-- so, they'll be back for a follow up-- much to the boss's frustration.
I'm a bit embarrassed, but we had a few problems in the greenhouse this week. I've been a tad heavy-- carpet watering all the seedlings. As the boss now repeats-- too much water is more dangerous than too little. 4-5trays worth of the swiss chard developed root rot-- instead of growing up and out, they slowly closed up and their color paled. Over the week half of the trays perked up-- we let them get bone dry and the rot died off. I say 5 bad trays out of hundreds isn't bad, but so it goes. The rest of the greenhouse is humming along, they'll be moved outside (once we finish the cold frame) to make room for the next wave. I grabbed a can of wasp spray and went on a killing spree-- 30 some nests wiped out in the greenhouse rafters alone.
The week was mostly spent on small pain tasks-- the tractor's front right tire went flat, so we hauled it off for repairs, spent hours trimming more blueberry bushes, harrowed more rows up on the hill and tinkered about with some of the seeders.
Thursday was clear and calm, so we burned off the few remaining brush piles. The boss had a little dinner event-at-sea to attend so I minded the blazes alone.
Lucy the dog has fallen a little worse for wear. The boss let her out one night and she had a run in with a bear sized coyote-- a big ol' bite was tore right along her back leg and rear. Now she's wearing a plastic cone and 700 dollars worth of stitches.
Friday was a mad scramble. In another twist of weather, a large front is blowing down out of the north-- bringing 30F night time frosts. Bad news. The wind gusted heavy, 40mph at times, as the boss and I scrambled to set up all the irrigation guns and arrange the water pump. I was soaked to the icy bone after unclogging the fields worth of guns, but everything was running smoothly before nightfall. We filled the tractor to the brim with diesel and let her run all night-- the constant water keeps the plants and buds a few precious degrees above freezing. I talked to the boss Saturday morning and everything survived the night fine, just a few more days of frost warnings to go... But the strawberries will be fine, it's the blueberries I worry about. They can handle the 30Fs well enough, but if we get a maverick night plunging into the low 20Fs-- their baby berry buds are doomed. Fingers crossed.
Hmmm. Looking back I guess I forgot to mention it, but strange thing happened the other week. A scrapper friend of the boss swung by in his rig looking for any odd metal he could pick up. We could hardly move with all the old metal piling up so the boss gave it all away free. Newport and I helped the guy load up a few tons worth of sheet metal/rusted tractor attachments and odd copper piping. I have my theories on how the boss met this fella, but he was a rare breed of crazy. When I told the man about where I lived he laughed his head off. He knew the area well. Back ten years ago the scapper used to be a manager for strippers. He would book them gigs and shuffled them between different dance halls. But he laughed because there was an old diner nearby, which would close down into a "sex-show-extravaganza" at night. He would shuttle his girls over there ever week. He was certainly a shady piece of work.
May is slipping up quick and I've plans a-million in the brain cooker. We'll see how next week goes.
Take it easy.
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