The pleasures of the firsts

The firsts of the season.
The vegetables I look forward to as I am walking through the grocery store mid-February.
The flavors that make my mouth water in anticipation.
The options for meals.
The variety of textures and tastes and scents.
These have arrived.

Two weeks ago we harvested the first beets. This may be the one vegetable I await the most...although I probably say that about a lot of vegetables! My mom loves beets. No but really. She loves beets. As a child, I was quite the opposite. I did not like beets. But I wanted to be like my mom, so every time she ate them, I would give it a try. After years of beet tasting and being disappointed, my taste buds experienced a revolution. I finally understood what my mom always said, "they melt in your mouth" "its like eating candy" "I could eat a whole jar of pickled beets." Ever since that moment, its true, I can eat a whole jar (by the way, my mom makes THE BEST pickled beets) and I can dig them up, wipe them off, and eat them raw and I can roast a whole pan full for dinner. The sweet earthiness is such an exquisite experience. It is here for the season!

Have you ever dug a new potato, rinsed it, boiled it, and ate it? If not, you must. New potatoes are a completely different experience than a basic russet or yukon gold. The skin is paper thin, the texture is smooth and meltable. Its like you smash them with a tablespoon of butter, but you don't, its just the potatoes. Two days ago we were in the tomato field all morning, pruning and tying. As always, 11am rolled around our stomachs made hunger noises and soon our conversation turned to food. We were making guesses of what lunch would be. The last thought in my mind was that we would already have potatoes. Well I was pleasantly surprised! Potato season is here.

The potato field. Red potatoes have purple flowers and white potatoes have white flowers. This picture sure does not capture the intense beauty of this field.

And for dessert...nothing says july like intense red mingling with deep blue. So its not a vegetable. But strawberry and blueberry season is here, unfortunately, its almost gone too.

Summer is a great season in the midwest for a plethora of reasons. The flavors of fresh local food is just one of those. We have been enjoying every step of growing that food. But nothing quite compares to the pleasures of eating it! Wendell Berry explains it well, 

The pleasure of eating should be an extensive pleasure, not that of the mere gourmet. People who know the garden in which their vegetables have grown and know that the garden is healthy will remember the beauty of the growing plants, perhaps in the dewy first light of morning when gardens are at their best. Such memory involves itself with the food and is one of the pleasures of eating. The knowledge of the good health of the garden relieves and frees and comforts the eater...I think it means that you eat with understanding and with gratitude. A significant part of the pleasure of eating is one's accurate consciousness of the lives and the world from which food comes.

We hope you are pleasuring in the flavors of this season.

The battle of vegetables.

Quackgrass is a perennial weed that is troublesome to eliminate. The latin name, agropyron repens means 'a sudden field of fire' which attests to its ability to take over fields and gardens. Some of our first experiences in the field were pulling clumps of quackgrass and removing them. Dan told us stories of its strength and capacity to overrun a field. He shared some of his first experiences with quackgrass. He called his father-in-law for some advice of how to get rid of it. The response: you can pull quackgrass, leave it in the sun to dry up, throw the remains into the fire, and a day later you will have quackgrass growing up through the ashes. We listened with a bit of apprehension because we had never experienced this first hand. But now we have. 

We were in the pepper field with English hoes fighting the fight. Two days prior, Dan had cultivated this field with "the G." Our goal was to get between the plants and really attack the weeds. Within minutes, we found the first evidence of this amazingly tough perennial...troublesome to eliminate for sure. It had been ripped from the ground and was laying on the surface drying in the sun. We picked it up and discovered this supposedly dried up weed was actually the beginning of life for six little shoots of quackgrass. Just like this weed, Dan's story of quackgrass rising through the ashes came back to life in my mind. Even though it is a continual problem weed, I had to be amazed at the example of resiliency. I guess in some way, we all can learn from this weed. To fight through adversity. To overcome what tries to get us down. To keep growing. Unlike this weed, we must be careful to battle against the right things, to not try to beat out what is good.           

Now to a major potato/eggplant/tomato pest, the Colorado Potato Beetle. These are actually kind of a beautiful bug, with a bright orange/yellow body and ten narrow black stripes running down the wing covers. But the facts about these beetles significantly decrease their beauty in my eyes. They overwinter as adults in the soil and emerge in the spring. I mean seriously, they come up from the ground, genius. They feed for a while and begin to mate in late spring. The females lay their eggs in clusters of 10-30 bright orange eggs on the underside of leaves. Each female can lay up to 350 eggs in their life. After about 2 weeks, the eggs hatch and damage from the larvae begins. The adults and larvae feed on the foliage, which a potato plant can only handle so much of. These little pests are capable of completely defoliating plants. An entire potato crop can be lost to these tiny things. Beautiful for a moment. Then you become an organic vegetable grower.

So how do we keep this from happening? We crawl down each row on our hands and knees squishing the bright orange eggs, the destructive larvae, and the invasive adults. All we want is to save the plants. The fights we fight to help these vegetables win the battle.

Beautiful right? Do not be deceived.

The eggs.

Just hatched.

Pictures upon pictures.

My mom used to tell me a watched pot never boils. I started to think that applies to plants growing this season. I want to wake up some morning and see the plants doubled in size. This may be a big request, but I know it actually is possible. However, this cold spring has truly been a challenge for most things we put into the ground. Somedays it feels like the plants are the same size as when they were planted over one month ago. But when I look at the last pictures I shared with you, I realize A LOT has changed and grown and greened up and only we have had the pleasure of seeing it. Despite the cold and rain and wind, this has been a most enjoyable growing season thus far. Let us share the last month with you and entertain your eyes with all we are blessed to be part of...

Staking the tomatoes in the tunnels.

Mulching in the tunnels.

Bringing row cover out to the field...yeah, its May 2nd and we are in heavy coats and layers and stocking caps.

Laying down row cover in preparation for the May 3rd frost.

"The G" loaded with plants.

"The 504" ready for for transplanting.

Changing the spacing on the transplanter.

Check out these green beans breaking through the ground!

The lettuce field.

A look at the farm with peppers in the foreground.

Molly and Jane out in the pasture.

Sunday morning chores: water the horses.

Its a double rainbow all the way...woah thats so intense.

Hoeing the Chinese Cabbage.

Bringing plants to the field to put in the ground.

Hand transplanting Zucchini

Recapping after a full week of work.

Ben and Dan cultivating with Molly (one of the draft horses).

Ben drove Molly and Dan cultivated.

The lettuce field right before harvest day.

The first harvest.

Harvesting

The harvest shed.

Washing the produce.

Hauling tomato stakes to the field. 

Laying out tomato stakes.

One field of tomatoes all staked. 

The first tie...we will tie tomatoes three times.

Kale field mulched.

Ben's got the farmer look...

And so does Sarah.

Summer solstice was Friday, June 21. Here's to summer finally being here!

Chemicals.

A few weeks back a single moment in the field hit me. I saw it with my own two eyes. It was not just an article I read or a scene I saw in a movie. It became real. I realized we have been so removed from how our food is grown and where it comes from. Even though Ben and I are continually trending in a direction toward sustainability and living naturally, in my mind, this moment thrust me forward ten steps.

At Common Harvest we put great attention and our whole energy into caring for the land we work, the food we grow, and the wildlife around us.

We were at work, finally in the field. Dan driving the tractor, Ben and I on the transplanter. We had just finished a row and were reloading some flats. We heard a rumble coming down the road. When you live out in the country, traffic is infrequent, it typically draws attention. We look up to see a semi truck hauling large tanks. The words out of Dan's mouth dropped like a ton of bricks on my ears, "there go the chemicals."

All of this went racing through my mind...

The seeds rest in my palm and one by one are placed into a fertile mix of potting soil and compost. The greenhouse is the perfect host for these seeds to germinate and flourish. We check the plants at least two times a day, water as needed. The sun produces a humid 80 degree climate. The ideal growing conditions.

But nature is not ideal. A winter that hangs on too long. Snow. The coldest April in over 100 years. More clouds than sun. A blizzard in May. Even though according to prior years many things should have been in the ground, we waited. And waited.

The snow melts. The temp rises. The soil slowly warms. But there has to be a transition. This is where the cold frame enters the picture. Plants are moved to 50 degrees and exposed to gentle breezes. The stems are able to strengthen and hold up the growing leaves. The plants have adjusted and are ready...

And at last so are some of the fields. Dan spent almost every day on the tractor for two weeks. It took about three hours per field spreading compost and poultry manure to enhance the nutrients for the forthcoming plants.

The tractor just fits into the tunnels and is used to prepare the center rows. But the most northern and the most southern has to be prepared by hand. With digging forks, we break the ground then wheelbarrow load by wheelbarrow load shovel compost down the whole row. Another go with the forks to turn in the compost. Five hours later one row is prepared for plants.

In the field we ride the transplanter to get the seedlings into the fertile soil. We have a flat with 98 plants on our lap, take one at a time, hold the soil block, place the stem and leaves into the spinning disks until they have a firm grip and grab the next plant. Do not be mistaken, this all happens very quickly. After a field is planted, we walk down every row to tuck in any plants that did not get covered by soil and to put a plant where we missed one.

The tunnels are a different process. We string a line to be sure we plant a straight row, get on our knees at the beginning, plant a seedling and measure the length to where the next one will go. A single row takes anywhere from 2-8 hours.

No matter where we plant, water is always needed. Hours upon hours are spent dragging layflat and hauling irrigation piping. A never ending job to be sure the plants are hydrated.

A late frost in the middle of May to a non farmer is just another day, maybe a crabby one, but not THAT big of a deal. But to a vegetable farmer, it is stress and time and money. Two days of unrolling row cover over the most delicate plants. All this put into saving a crop, knowing that the frost will actually only be a couple hour window over night - then it will be done and a new day of warmth will come.

With warmth come weeds. Pigweed. Purslane. Quack grass. Rye. Lamb's quarters. Some pretty, some edible, but when its not wanted, its a weed. We use wheel hoes and English style hoes and Diamond hoes. Row by row eliminate the weeds that are consuming nutrients from the soil. I used to be committed to doing P90X and Jillian Michael videos and going for 10 mile runs. Now, I wheel hoe. Seriously. a. workout.

With cold damp soils come pesty slugs and bugs. Cabbage maggots love...you guessed it, cabbage. We put row cover to prevent the attack. Every potato beetle we see, we smoosh between our fingers.

Our ten hour work days are spent nurturing and learning and planting and seeding and sweating and hoeing and walking and lifting and shoveling and managing. All because we are farmers. We want to produce good food.

Now, I am standing in this field, looking at this truck, and trying to comprehend how and why. Just down the road is the destination of these chemicals. An hour later, it comes back for a refill. We are surrounded by fields that are saturated in chemicals - apparently the answer to weeds and pests. The problem - these are synthetic, not natural. They are being sprayed onto the food we eat. They kill unwanted things. How can we be sure that these unnatural chemicals are not having a negative affect on our bodies? Chemicals are used in conventional farming because the amount of acreage covered by one farmer is too large to farm in great detail. Are these pesticides and herbicides sprayed onto these massive plots of land so smart that they only kill the unwanted? What about the monarch butterflies and the water we drink and the red belly snakes and the hummingbirds and the sunfish and the weeping willows?

These are thoughts I had before this moment. But like I said, it suddenly became very real. I saw the act happening.  The importance of our workdays just multiplied in my mind. There is a glaring need for small, sustainable, organic farmers. We as consumers need to be aware and connected to our food. We need to understand where it comes from and how it is grown and what is on it that should not be. We need to realize that we have power because of the food choices we make.

This is layflat. The durable hose that is used to transfer water spewing at 30 gallons per minute. A secure connection is made at the water main and hundreds of feet run in different directions to the edge of the fields in need of water. 

Irrigation pipes are placed parallel in the center row. There should be fifty feet between each sprinkler. Make sure all connections are secure and do not forget the end cap. Turn the water on full force. Even at that speed, it takes a couple minutes before water is spraying out the sprinklers and hydrating the thirsty plants. 

Irrigation is never boring. There is always a leak, a spray, a puncture. Just when one is repaired, another appears. A field is watered over night to avoid evaporation and drying out from wind. This length of time on one field equals an inch of rain. Once plants are in the ground, irrigation has to constantly be on the mind of a farmer. It is a never-ending task. A constant battle of heavy hose and 30 foot pipes and ten trips to turn the water off then on and splicing and repairing and getting drenched from a sudden disconnection and hours upon hours of work. 

But its water. The main source of life. Its what blood is for humans. The vehicle that transports nutrients. Without it, life cannot go on. 

In my mind, rain has always been a good thing. But today, when we woke to the steady pitter patter of rain on the tin roof, I praised God for the life He was sending to every single plant we nestled into the soil these past two weeks. What one rainfall gave this morning was a weeks worth of irrigation. Another reminder of how big our God is and how small our efforts are in comparison.