I have two favorite phrases about vegetable farming.
The first one is “I'm glad I don't have to do this all day long.” Which is kind of funny, considering that raising vegetables is how I make my living, and also that I like raising vegetables. But what I really mean is that I am glad for the variety of tasks I have as a small farmer. It's a rare day when I have to do the same thing all day long.
If it is 92 in May and we are not used to that kind of heat yet but still have to water in our greenhouse transplants by hand, I am glad the task only takes an hour. I don't have to drip with sweat all day long. (Drip with sweat or start getting chills, which means I better get out of the greenhouse right away to cool off.)
If we are transplanting peas in the field and somehow the fluffy bed of soil got compacted as we tried to figure out our new landscape fabric system, I am glad I don't have to lean my weight on the dibble all day long to make holes for the transplants. The task feels endless because it is harder than normal, but it really only takes a few hours. (Go, strong pea roots, go! You can grow in concrete!)
If we are wrestling our way through the farm accounts or trying to organize the CSA pick-up schedule, I am glad it only takes an hour or two. I don't have to sit in front of the computer all day long, cursing at the things I accidentally make the computer do. (Where did those 5 million numbers I just painstakingly entered suddenly go?)
Even if we are potting up seedlings in the greenhouse, a job I love, I am still glad I don't have to do it all day long, because the potting up muscles in the neck and shoulders begin to object. Same with close hand-weeding, of carrots for example: I love that kind of fine work, but my knees and back start to say I've done enough.
My phrase also works for the crops we plant in larger quantities, such as potatoes and onions, since they cover a relatively small area compared to other bigger farms. Our vegetable farmer friends might be planting onions for days. My fellow and I spend four hours. (That doesn't count the half a day loading the spreader by hand with compost or the discing, harrowing, and bed-making with the horses, which are different tasks than actually planting, of course.)
Visiting our farmer friends leads to my second farming phrase: “Wow, it sure is nice to talk to somebody who really gets it!” As in, a white-footed mouse dug up and ate four flats of spinach seeds in the greenhouse in one night, or the voles just ate a quarter of the kale transplants. As in, there's too much rain or not enough rain. As in, potting soil and irrigation parts and everything else get more and more expensive, and it's hard to stay in the small farm business.
We are the only vegetables growers in our farmer group that work with horses, so sometimes we also have farmers-with-livestock problems, such as making hay. Luckily we know some small thrifty farmers with cows or horses too.
In fact, our farrier was here recently. He trims and shoes horses and makes hay to feed his own horses and to sell. My fellow was telling the farrier about unloading the expensive potting soil from our truck and realizing that the gas tank was hanging six inches above the ground.
“I put a strap on it to hold it up,” my fellow said. “The garage won't touch it.”
“I've done that,” said our farrier. “It works great!”
It sure is nice to talk to somebody who gets it. I sure am glad I don't to have to strap up gas tanks all day long.
Originally published in the Monadnock Shopper News, May 27 - June 2, 2026