Fall Spirits on the Farm

For years, we farmers waited eagerly for Halloween to fall on a CSA harvest day. Finally, not long ago, it did, and we played lots of funny tricks on our CSA members. We changed all the vegetable signs around, so that the lettuce read carrots, and the kale read beets. We put some rocks in the potatoes, and we drew ghosts and spiders on our harvest chalkboard. We even had a fierce fanged green pepper and a turnip jack-o-lantern.

We were so thoroughly Halloweeny we thought the trick or treat spirit would last us for another good many years. But Halloween happened on harvest day again, a mere three years later, and we didn't have any new tricks up our farmer sleeves.

Luckily, even if we weren't ready, the Halloween spirits were.

A little autumn on the farm background: for two months, we dig our potatoes for the week on a Monday, so that we are ready for the following Tuesday and Friday harvest days. The potatoes are not a quick harvesting job; it takes 3 or 4 hours to dig a 200 foot bed. We had been digging our Monday potatoes for a good month or six weeks before October 31st this year.

But somehow, on the Monday right before Halloween, we completely forgot our potatoes. Of course, we were doing other useful harvest tasks, such as gathering apples to press cider, but potatoes? Never crossed our minds.

Thus it was, on Halloween harvest morning, that I woke with a jerk.

“Oh, no,” I whispered, in great alarm.

“What's the matter?” whispered my sleepy fellow.

“Did you dig the potatoes?” This despite the fact that I had been working with my fellow all day, and we clearly had not dug the potatoes.

“No,” he whispered, very succinctly.

I uttered a mild Halloween curse. “We're never going to get done on time!” I threw off the covers, and leapt into my clothes. My fellow did likewise. We stumbled down the stairs. There in the kitchen was our laughing Halloween clock: it read 4:00 a.m.

“Oh, geesh,” I said. “It's four o'clock.”

“Happy Halloween,” said my fellow.

“Meoooow -puuurrrr,” said our Halloween Kitty, which translates as, “This is fantastic, I love getting up this early, let's go outside right now and catch a mouse!”

By that time we farmers were so overstimulated by our harvest panic that we couldn't imagine going back to bed. We strapped on our headlamps, and went out with our happy kitty to greet the Halloween stars. They were brilliant. The air was still, and it was relatively warm. It was actually quite pleasant. I harvested the lettuce, and the kale, and the Swiss chard. My fellow tackled the potatoes.

At 6 a.m., which is when we might normally get up on an October harvest day, we went inside for breakfast. We didn't linger over coffee and kefir, however, because we still had a lot to do. My fellow went back to the potatoes. I went on to beets, squash, and carrots. The morning wore away. We began to feel we had been up for a good many hours.

Around ten, we had some popcorn, complete with Halloween colors – a little black on the burned  

bits, a little orange from the turmeric, which tastes good, and is anti-inflamatory, i.e., it wards off Halloween devils. The popcorn pepped us right up, or at least kept us harvesting.

We picked, sorted, washed, and labelled. We were getting close to our one o'clock deadline, when CSA members would begin to arrive. Since I had so few years to think since the last Halloween harvest, and so few hours of sleep, I really couldn't seem to come up with any new tricks. I resorted to my old ones: switching the vegetable labels around.

My fellow came over, yawning, with the parsley he'd just picked. It was the last crop of the long morning

“Let's see,” he said slowly, “Why does the kale say potatoes? What happened here with the tags?”

I smiled at him. “Looks like my old trick still works,” I said.

He looked at me, a little blankly, a little sleepily.

“Happy Halloween!” I said.

My fellow mustered up a smile. “Oh, right. At least we got done in time. That's a treat.”

“Indeed,” I answered, and we held hands all the way to our Halloween Harvest lunch.

Originally published in the Monadnock Shopper News, Nov 22-28, 2017

Farmers On Tour

Not long ago, here on our New Hampshire vegetable farm, we gave two farm tours, one to the Cheshire County Conservation District Board, and one to a Keene State College class studying ecological agriculture. We farmers enjoy an occasional tour, because it's fun to tell stories about our vegetables and our horses and our goofy, yet sustainable, farming.

But the nicest thing about giving farm tours is how much people appreciate our farm. Even as we say, “Oh, we haven't quite finished weeding this section yet,” meaning, “It looks so bedraggled and overrun by weeds because we haven't even started weeding it yet,” or “Oh, gee, we've got a lot of work to do in this greenhouse,” meaning, “We've had to ignore this for months because every other crop is so pressing,” people say, “What a beautiful place! What wonderful horses and vegetables! Everything looks great!”

This of course, is very nice to hear, and now we've had the even greater pleasure of going on other people's farm tours, courtesy of the recent Monadnock Farm and Community Coalition's Farm Tour Day. We wanted to visit all eighteen farms on the tour, but we only had time for four, which turned out to be three, because we got lost so much. We saw a lot of beautiful back roads of New Hampshire, and we also saw:

Wellscroft Farm in Harrisville, NH, a fine sheep farm and fence supply business. In fact, our new deer fence (thanks to a grant from the Natural Resources Conservation Service) came from Wellscroft, so it was nice to see all that fencing and then revel in the fact that our fence was already put up, not still waiting in enormous piles for the hours and hours of work it would take to build it.

But the best thing about Wellscroft was the sheepdogs. We got to see three dogs herding sheep and goats, and one dog guarding sheep and goats. The guarding mostly consisted of a huge white dog happily lolling in the shade while all we farm tourists rubbed his big fluffy belly. The herding, on the other hand, was a lively affair, with a demonstration of a young and overeager dog doing things she shouldn't, such as creeping up on the sheep, or racing around in circles in the wrong direction. We also got to see what happens when an active wasp nest is in the very run-in shed which a flock of sheep wants desperately to enter, to get away from a young and overeager sheepdog. “Oh, gee, this doesn't usually happen,” said the farmers. “What a beautiful farm,” we said. “What wonderful dogs! Everything looks great!”

Draft Gratitude is a draft horse and mule rescue center in Winchester, NH. There are 12 or 15 critters here, some of whom will go on to adoptive farms, and others who will peacefully, comfortably live out their lives with well-cared for arthritis or cancer or lameness troubles. We got to imagine happy retirements for all draft animals (including our own, right on our own farm, we hope), as we met the horses and mules, all outside enjoying the fresh air and snacking or snoozing.

Since we were there at feeding time, we also got to see how grumpy happily retired horses can be when a volunteer inadvertently changes the order of feeding. Squeal, snap, kick! “Oh, gee, this doesn't usually happen,” said the owner.  “What a wonderful place!” we said. “What wonderful horses! Everything looks great!”

Picadilly Farm: We got to this farm five minutes before the farm tours ended. The farm tour brochures were very clear that a person should not come too early or stay too late. We tumbled out of the car, happily into the arms of our friends, the Picadilly farmers. “We got lost, and we really wanted to come here!” we said. “We're so glad it's you!” they answered.

Our farmer friends proceeded to give us a tour of the beautiful old barns, and the vegetable shed, and the greenhouses, and the you-pick gardens for CSA members. We walked around the fields and visited the piggie-wiggies, and then our friends invited us to pick from the you-pick gardens, fed us supper, and caught us up on farm news. Their farm news is much like ours, since Picadilly is also a vegetable and CSA farm, though on a larger scale, with similar farm news and troubles, also all on a larger scale. “Our tomatoes aren't quite what we'd like this year,” they said, and “Oh, gee, we're not quite finished weeding this section yet.”

“What a beautiful farm,” we said. “What wonderful pigs and vegetables! Everything looks great!”

There's nothing like a farm tour to cheer a farmer.  Especially someone else's farm tour.

Originally published in the Monadnock Shopper News, Oct 25-Oct 31, 2017

Sustainable Farm Alarm: Sleepy Farmers Face the Dawn

September is a lovely month on a New Hampshire vegetable farm. The summer crops, tomatoes and zucchini, yellow squash and cucumbers, peppers and eggplant, are still productive, but they are not so productive that a farmer dreads the thought of harvest. Nine hours of picking tomatoes, or two hours of picking tomatoes: two hours seems positively luxurious.

With our extra seven hours, we can start moving into the fall crops: digging potatoes or topping the Brussels sprouts or gathering apples to make cider, always a welcome fall treat.

Or we can sleep. Gee, it seems harder and harder for a vegetable farmer to get up this time of year. Luckily, we have several sustainable methods of accomplishing this:

The Kitty Alarm, #1: All summer, the kitty likes to go out at 4:30 a.m. Sometimes when I gaze blearily out at the 4:30 a.m. world, I think, hey, it's light enough to get some work done. Happily, my bleary body thinks this is a Very Bad Idea and takes my bleary mind back to bed. Even more happily, as dawn comes gradually later, the kitty changes her schedule too, and this time of year she doesn't want to go out until 5:30 a.m.

The Coffee Alarm: In the early part of the season, when the peppier of the two farmers gets up at 5 or 5:30, he works for an hour or more, and then comes back in for his coffee. He comes in very quietly, so as not to disturb the sleepier farmer. But there is no way to quiet the coffee alarm. It takes three taps to dislodge the coffee grounds from the metal coffee-basket into the metal compost bin. Tap. Tap. Tap. It's time for coffee. Or it's time for sleepy farmers to get up.

The Draft Horse Alarm: This works best when the horses are in the pasture they like least, which borders a swampy area and is full of bugs. They come galloping down the hill, hooves pounding and noses snorting, and generally emanating enough “Get out of your beds, you lazy farmers, and let us in the barn!” vibrations that we comply. On rainy or cooler days, however, the horses are perfectly happy to stay in their pasture night and day. Thus draft horses do not make a dependable alarm, in case you're thinking of getting a few to replace your morning buzzer.

The School Alarm: This really is a morning buzzer, dreaded by all. But we have a far more pleasant music setting alarm on our digital clock, so we can wake up to some nice cello or flute music. Obviously, this is not in use in the summer months, but in September, when all the farmers except the one who has to go to high school could stay in bed nice and late, the flute and cello alarm encourages all of us to get up and get moving. This alarm varies slightly, from 5:45 to 6:45, depending on how much homework the high school farmer has yet to complete.

The Kitty Alarm, #2: If we get this alarm, we are really slug-a-beds. This happens about 7:30 or 8:00 a.m. Our screen door doesn't latch tightly, and a clever kitty can get her paw around the edge of it and bang the door. And bang the door. And bang the door. Clearly the kitty is ready for her mid-morning snack. Why, indeed, are farmers even in bed at this late hour? Luckily, this alarm is also weather dependent. When we take the screen door off, and put the storm door on, there's nothing for the kitty to catch hold of and bang. 

Of course, by door-changing time, it has gotten cold enough that our kitty stays nicely asleep later and later in the morning with us, and soon it will be cold enough that our garden will be put to bed too. We'll all get to sleep. Ahhh ….
 

Originally published in the Monadnock Shopper News, Sept 27 - Oct 3, 2017

Weeds Are Our Friends (Sort Of)

Weeds are a farmer's friend. Well, sort of our friends. At least they are firm acquaintances, and we've come to know their quirks and habits by long association. They come back, year after year, in dependable succession. Some have lovely flowers and interesting names; some are edible and easy-going; some are deep-rooted and determined. We always say it's a good thing those determined perennial weeds appear first, in the spring, when a vegetable farmer still has abundant energy and will to entertain the first of the weed visitors.

Morning Glory: When our daughter was very small, and just learning weeds, she called Morning Glory “Glorintine.” Thus we have two nice names to call this perennial, in the rare moments when we're not calling it not-so-nice names. Glorintine has a pretty cup-like white flower, but if we get to the flowering stage, we're in trouble, because it means the glorintine has already twined and vined itself with incredible vigor and strength around any and every available vegetable. Recently it took me and a pair of clippers more than an hour to free eight suffering pepper plants from flowering Morning Glory bondage.

Quack Grass: Some people call this couch grass, or quitch grass. Along with Morning Glory, it is our most difficult perennial weed. Quitch is enough to make a farmer twitch, quack, and want to lie down on a couch (though it is pronounced “cooch.” But we'd be happy to lie down on a cooch, too.). It spreads by long white roots underground until it has colonized the entire garden, requiring a weeding revolution, and a fair amount of farmer foaming-at-the-mouth.

Hairy Galinsoga: This is often the first of the annual weeds, and it is speedy, coming to flower (and shortly after to seed, spreading itself everywhere, fast) in only 21 days. It has tiny white daisy-like flowers, and a tough root system that likes to dislodge neighboring vegetables when we pull the weed out. Old H.G. also has an alternate name on our farm. I grew up in a cheddar and American cheese household, whereas my farming fellow's family was morely likely to venture into Brie and Gorgonzola. When I inadvertently said “Hairy Gorgonzola,” my fellow thought this was riotously funny, and now we have lots of hairy, cheesy weeds around.

Red-Rooted Pigweed: We like this weed. It has a good name too, with many variants: purple or common or pigweed amaranth. Best is that it pulls up easily, not disturbing the vegetables nearby, even when it is very large. It does grow fast and has a scratchy flower bud, but we don't mind; it's just such an easy-going weed. When our girl was little, she would start out by weeding everything out of the row of lettuce. Then she would weed out only the weeds she liked; pigweed was one of the ones she liked. (Next she would start playing with the weeds, making families and stories. Then it would be time to go in for a snack.)

Lamb's Quarters: is also known as wild spinach, and some people eat it. In fact, when we had a friend visiting, a friend who finds edible weeds very interesting, he picked a lot of lamb's quarters, laboriously plucked off the tiny leaves, and put them in a basket for our CSA members on harvest day. There was even a sign: “Wild Spinach.” Our CSA members looked with mild interest at this little basket full of little pale green leaves, and then sidled over to the harvest crate full of big dark green hearty civilized spinach. But sometimes I eat a leaf or two as I am pulling it out of my carrots and beets, and I feel very thrifty and wildcrafty indeed.

Purslane: A fleshy, floppy kind of weed, purslane is also edible. It has a tart, almost lemony taste. Recently, we had a Weeding and Ice Cream Party for our CSA members. Undaunted by the knee high weeds in our Brussels sprouts patch, the good members waded in and weeded. Along the rows, we offered the copious purslane up for samples. One person nibbled doubtfully, shook her head, and said “Hmm, I'm not getting lemony.”

Another person took armfuls home for her salad, which just goes to show how weeds really are our friends, and it's good that they visit the farm regularly. After all, If a vegetable farmer doesn't produce enough produce, there's always plenty of weeds for people to eat. Yum.

Originally published in the Monadnock Shopper News, August 30-Sept 5, 2017