The New Toys....er, Tools

If there is ever a down-side to being the small producer, it is…well…being the SMALL producer.

Sometimes, it seems like no one takes you seriously. Our operation has often been referred to in a disparaging way...The Boss' tractor deemed "cute" on more than one occasion.

On the other hand, the ginormous debt-load and subsequent worry are not an issue around here. SMALL producer has an up-side as well. J

When the “big guys” buy a new piece of equipment, a lot of folks take notice. Heck, I take notice.  New tractors get everybody’s attention!

I just checked prices of new John Deere equipment. …and no, I didn’t check any other brands…tractors are just supposed to be GREEN!  J  A new JD tractor with all the bells and whistles can cost anywhere from around $40,000 to $400,000. Harvesters and other equipment can be even more costly.  While they look awesome sitting out there…and do some amazing and truly necessary work, the thought of that kind of payment gives me major nightmares. But, they sure look good!

Back to the real world…

(For the record, those big tractors would be useless around here…they are just TOO big.)

This has been the year of the replacements around here.  We’ve been doing this long enough that I guess we’re just due… But, honestly, it seems like EVERYTHING needs fixing or replacing.  No, take that back…the tractor is okay. That is only because it had to spend some quality time in the shop LAST year.  We do need to get the tractor bucket fixed, but I am trying not to think about that right now.

First Troy up and quit on us. The Boss finally gave up on the whole repair deal with that one and sold it part and parcel, new engine included, to Mechanic SiL “T-bone”.  He was thrilled and got it running. It has developed further “issues”. But, it’s gone from the Hill…

We replaced the garden tiller with a BCS that we picked up in H’burg on the way home from our trip that delivered the first lambs to the processor.  Yeah, when we buy “equipment” it fits in the back of the pick-up.

 And NO, that really doesn't do a whole lot for our “real farmer” image.   But, it fills our needs and we were able to pay CA$H.

Once the Boss got this new tiller into the garden, he began to wonder WHY he ever bought and used the other brand.  The soil is so amazingly fine (in texture) after using the BCS.  We are converts!

Okay, solved that issue!  …but then…

The tiny tiller, used for hoophouse cultivation, has been ever so slowly driving the Boss to distraction.  I cannot tell you how many times we have had to replace the primer bulb alone.  Okay, we have replaced it so many times that the guy at the hardware store knew what I needed before I told him. It’s a small town…but, that was just too hilarious!  Rather than have the Boss completely lose his mind, it was time to replace THAT too.

That EQUIPMENT purchase was done on-line, and FedEx dropped it at the top of the lane.  Does it say something about your operation when your newest “equipment “acquisition fits in a box smaller than the dog? …and the wife can carry it back down the driveway?   Oh, yeah…you’re a SMALL producer!

The next day, it was assembled and immediately put to work.  Wow!  We should have done this YEARS ago.  It works incredibly well and doesn’t cause the choking smoke of the other brand. So much for brand loyalty.

Our machine shed may look like a toy box to some folks.  But, these new toys, I mean…TOOLS…make work much easier and have a very real positive effect on our bottom line.

.

Nothing like the perfect tool for the job to allow us to to an excellent job growing vegetables for Market.

Thankful Thursdays

Just today, I noticed that a good number of the blogs I read on a regular basis have a “Thankful Thursday” post.

At first it seemed a little corny, maybe a little hokey (although in this part of the world that is a good thing…seems like everyone is somehow connected to VATech and its hokie bird mascot), but, maybe it was something worth thinking about.  Hmmm, I dunno…some of the worst things that have ever happened in my life occurred on a Thursday. Honestly.  But, it’s kinda silly to have “issues” with a day of the week, isn’t it?

As I was mulling over the thought of thankful Thursdays, I absent-mindedly switched on my MP3 player.   Of all the 1306 songs that could have been playing…THIS is what I got.

It’s called “Be Grateful” by The FARM

The chorus got me thinking…

Every time you think you got it bad
you can find someone who's got it worse.
All the things you take for granted now;
they started out as blessings first.
If you got someone who loves you
and a steady job that puts food on the table
If you're strong and able…
Man, be grateful!

                                              The FARM, Inc.

Yeah, we have SO much for which to be grateful…thankful…whatever you want to call it. We live in a beautiful place, do work as we choose to do it, and get to enjoy the fruits of our labors.

                                                We got it good. J

It seems like when you start looking for something to be thankful for…your attitude toward everything changes. That can be a very good thing.

So, I guess I’ll jump on this bandwagon and try to be particularly thankful on Thursdays…

 



                       …and every other day, too.

It's the Thought that Counts

Living on a farm, with three cats and two dogs as part of the “home team”, you really begin to wonder sometimes…

All those “offerings” on the porches, in the barn, by the vehicles…are they really tokens of great affection?  Or did “someone” lose interest once the thrill of the chase was over and forget to clean up after him/herself?

Lately, I have gotten a lot of surprise “gifts”.  Dead mice, shrews, voles, a rat (I think), a partial rabbit (don’t ask…that one was GROSS).  Yesterday, I got a groundhog.  Yep…a whole stinkin’ groundhog. (quite literally) …and to think I almost missed seeing this one!

The Boss was headed to a Market meeting, so I rode down to the mailbox with him.  It is really helpful to have a passenger to get the gate at the top of the lane when you have to drive somewhere.  The gate is not to indicate that we are anti-social, it is a pre-emptive measure protecting us from the errant calf, horse, sheep and/or dog that may be wandering up or down the lane. I know for a fact that each of these species has been stopped by the gate.  I think it may deter deer as well…maybe even foxes and coyotes (but, that may be wishful thinking).

I walked up the hill from the mailbox, enjoying the lovely evening. When I came back in the gate,the dogs were there to greet me in their usual fashion and I noticed blood on Ellie Mae’s face.  There were just little splatters that indicated it was not her blood.  I checked Jed, but couldn’t find anything. While I wondered what happened, I didn’t give it a whole lot of thought. I was thinking ahead to my next project.

They were both agitated and drew my attention to something in the orchard. They were doing their "happy dog" thing that they do when they seem to think I will be pleased with their antics.  At first I thought it was Boooyyyy taking a nap in the grass.  Closer examination indicated that it was a groundhog…a very dead groundhog.

                                                                                   That led me to post the following:

An etiquette question for all my Facebook friends...
When being presented with a DEAD GROUNDHOG as a gift, should one:
a) shriek and recoil in terror
b) do some sort of "omg, this is so gross!" dance
c) accept graciously, offering gratitude to the giver
d) try to keep from "losing one's cookies" (oh, the smell...)
e) try to pawn it off on someone else (or should I say, re-gift?)
f) wait until no one is looking and dispose of said "treasure"
g) some form of all of the above

I must say...there are times when I wish I was NOT quite so loved. LOL 
Farm life....Nuthin' like it!

I admit it…I did EVERYTHING on the list.  Ewww, blech!  I really don’t like dead stuff.  However, SOMEBODY had to do it…so I took care of it, leaving my next project for some other time.

Yes, I praised the dogs. (I think it was Ellie and NOT Jed…but, they both got cookies)

I texted the Boss in hopes that he would “volunteer” to take care of it.  That didn’t work.

Then, I cleaned it up with absolutely NO thought of taking my friend’s advice to EAT the thing.  Yuck! 

When I was young, Dad got his final revenge on the blasted groundhog that was eating his corn, melons and the rest of the garden by shooting it and yes…convincing my Mother to cook it.  I fail to find words to describe the potpie that she made with it.  While my mother was never an award-winning cook, this time the ingredients failed her miserably.  Suffice it to say…been there, done that. …and NEVER again!

My FB list did indeed miss one item. 

I should have thoroughly rejoiced that at least ONE of the blasted groundhogs that attempt to eat EVERYTHING in the garden/hoophouse is finally gone.

Score one for the "home team"!  Go, Dogs!

Pokeberry Days

Long before the seasonal change of light, or the first falling leaf, the Phytolacca Americana is growing vigorously and by late summer is covered with an abundance of tiny white flowers and berries in various stages of development.  By the time the berries are hanging in purple masses, the nights are chilly and other indicators are saying AUTUMN is here!

Growing in the areas of the farm that don’t get much attention, the pokeberry plants can reach enormous heights.  We have a specimen behind the barn that prior to last night’s wind must have been in excess of eight feet high.  Despite the wind damage, it is remains noteworthy. It does seem a shame that all that beautiful growth is just weedy waste.

The animals won’t eat this particular species of plant.  The jury is out on whether humans should either.  There are those who swear by its healing properties and yet others insist the entire thing is poisonous and should be treated with care.

In Appalachia and other parts of the rural South, in the springtime the young plant is boiled and eaten and referred to as “poke salet”. I understand that wine and jelly can be made from the berries (if they are handled "just right").  I remember eating the greens in the springtime at least once as a little girl.  They tasted a lot like spinach, and I did live to tell the tale.  However, just like any other wild food, there is a time and technique to preparation, and I would never recommend its consumption to the uninformed.  Some old timers suggest eating a dried berry or two a day for the pain of arthritis. This has led to a renewed interest in the plant for possible medical use for many ailments.

The berries are a beautiful color. They start out a pale chartreuse and eventually turn a deep purple. When popped, they make a pretty pink stain.  Historically, it was used for ink and dye. It is said that the Constitution is written in pokeberry ink.  Legend also has it that many letters written to the home folks during the War Between the States were written using the purple berries. Native Americans marked their animals with it, too.  Back in our early homeschooling days, the girls mashed some for a project in writing and drawing.   Using dowels sharpened with a pencil sharpener, their fingers and a couple dozen q-tips for paintbrushes, they enjoyed pretending they were back in the “olden days”.

About the time the pokeberries are evident, the summer garden grinds to a screeching halt.  The tomato vines that just a week or so ago were producing abundantly are brown and withered, their fruit small and misshapen.  The cucumber plants have succumbed to blight and are no longer producing.  The same can be said for the squash plants.  The garden is a weedy, messy, discouraging sight.

                          That is, until you turn the other direction.

By facing away from the rotting tomatoes and the dying cucumbers, you see kale and turnips growing in a luxurious green carpet.  Beyond them, the fall broccoli plants are just beginning to form small heads inside their sturdy leaves. The same can be said for the cabbage and cauliflower plants.  There are potatoes and sweet potatoes just under the surface of the garden, waiting to be harvested and stored for winter.

The okra is still going strong and when the yellow flowers open in the late afternoon, it is a beautiful sight. There are younger, healthier plantings of squash, cucumbers and beans that have the potential to keep the supply of those crops going until the frost settles…so, harvest time is long from finished.

But, the pokeberries are like an early warning system…hey, there…pay attention…things are going to change…and change SOON!

A Pokeberry Wave - 1994

Because, this, my friends, seems like it was only yesterday! J

So, I Do a Little Writing...

I'm gonna share a little secret with you...

                 I have always....

                         ...always wanted to be a writer!

A "real" writer, not just someone who scribbles stuff from time to time.

Since those days as a little girl sitting at "Danny's" typewriter, banging away ("gently, Dolly, gently")...I can't tell you how I've wanted to write.

Something about those letters on the page...even when I didn't know they made words...and words made sentences...that expressed grand ideas and conveyed emotions, even the petty ones.  Words grant the power to convict and change, the ability to comfort and educate.  Words have an incredible power, and I wanted to tap into that. 

Over the years, I have written reams and reams... letters, papers, journals, just plain crap, bad poetry, sad stories, junk...well, you get the picture.  All in the hopes that someday, somewhere, someone would recognize that I truly have something meaningful to say and the ability to express myself in an interesting manner.

To that end, I recently entered a writing contest...a farmers' market writing contest ...and didn't even place.  They didn't even send a "thank you for your crappy submission" letter.  I cannot tell you how totally bummed I was.  It was the final straw in what had already been a stressful, frustrating day. I can't say that I felt any better after reading the winning submissions.  But, you know what?  It's okay.  It's really okay.

Because it made me realize something (after the Boss had to do some real mop-up work and give a VERY long pep talk) ...it doesn't matter what "they" think.  Their opinion of my expression doesn't diminish from the passion and emotion that goes into our work and/or my writing.  It doesn't matter if someone doesn't pick ME this time.  I'll keep writing 'cause I have a lot to say...about the living and dying, the work and relaxation, the whole of farming. My words may have some influence somewhere, sometime in the future.  In the meantime, there is a whole bunch of farmwork to do that keeps me far, far from any keyboard.  And, that's okay, too! Because the farm is what I love and who I am...writing about it just allows me to share that with others.

Perhaps someday, someone, somewhere will appreciate the work we do on the farm and the words with which I describe it.  (oh, my!  I think I finally got my head around Dad Womack's infamous quote..."your time will come"! That in itself may have been an epiphany.)  

Until then, I'll keep posting here.  ...and I hope someone will keep reading.

Here's my entry in the contest in its entirety... (I jazzed it up with a few old pictures)  The point of the contest was to share how being part of a market has affected your life. 

How The Farmers’ Market Saved My Life

 “Y’all should think about doin’ the Farmers’ Market!” It was an offhand suggestion put forth by a friendly market vendor years ago that quite possibly saved my life.  While that may be a slight overstatement, being a Market vendor indeed defines my life today.

In late ’96, we took an enormous leap of faith in hopes of becoming a little more self-sufficient, debt-free, and aiding family in an existing farming operation in the Shenandoah Valley.  We sold our house and car along with many of our personal possessions and moved about a hundred miles from our longtime home. Just weeks after the move, the farming deal ended in a painful and irrevocable way.  To say we were devastated would have been an understatement.  Mere words fail to describe my personal anguish.

While we clung to one another and our two young daughters, we realized that there is great truth in “you can’t go home again”.  We found a new spot to call our own, but it meant starting over from scratch.  The property had perimeter fence and a septic system and NOTHING else!  It became obvious that we needed to figure out a profitable enterprise before we reached the end of our rapidly dwindling nestegg. 

Our newfound friends were participating in the local Farmers Market. The Staunton/Augusta Farmers’ Market was fairly new and looking for vendors. The nationwide boom in popularity of Farmers Market had not yet reached our part of the world, so this venture was somewhat of a gamble.  Long appreciative of good food, we had been baking, gardening and raising animals for some time prior to the move.  We were committed to natural and wholesome production. The fit seemed a good one.  We decided to give it a go.  What did we have to lose?

From the first Market, our offerings were well received.  My gregarious husband had found his niche.  The interaction with the customers comes naturally to him and he enjoys Market day immensely. He was thrilled to sell out that first day; despite the fact the total was a paltry $66.50. The positive feedback was a balm to my own hurting heart. That day gave us the courage and enthusiasm to continue, and to expand our horizons a little.  With each positive response, I found a deeper desire to provide the best possible to these folks who were unwittingly helping me through one of life’s harder times. Baking and growing for the Market provided a creative outlet that I never knew existed. The Market quickly became a family affair, providing unparalleled learning experiences for all of us.

Sometime later, a market committee member commented, “you should have MORE stuff!  Then you wouldn’t be sold out so soon!”   That was an epiphany for me.  More stuff, more sales, more dollars at the end of the day. It was possible that the Market could indeed support our little family. From that moment on, we have worked hard to “have more stuff”.  Every year we have added a little more but, we may never be able to grow enough!

Some of the folks we met the first year are still customers today.  We’ve watched children grow into adults, young adults become parents, and families expand. New arrivals to the area have turned into dear friends. It has been with sadness that we bid farewell to customers who moved on, both literally and euphemistically.  All these folks have become very special to us, and the Saturday morning Market camaraderie is something we would hate to miss.

The rhythm of the Market season provided a diversion from the distress that threatened to overwhelm me at times. Between preparing for the market, raising a young family, and building the farm from the ground up, time to lament over the past was short.  This forced us onward and upward. There was much to do and even more to learn. There have been moments of crisis and hardship, but all in all it has been a most rewarding adventure. Our daughter once complained that the Market had taken over our lives.  I corrected her by saying, “the Market IS our life.” I don’t think she understood just how much I needed the positive input or how much we, as a family, needed the income.

When we started as vendors, we sold baked goods and a few vegetables.  After ten years of baking up to 100 loaves of bread a week, I hung up my potholders and we turned our focus more toward vegetables. We grow asparagus to zucchini, more than 20 different vegetables, as well as some fruits. Eggs, chicken and lamb round out our line-up. Our little homestead may only be 12 acres, but most of those are used in production of Market goods.

Becoming a Market vendor has been a personal journey of faith and inspiration from day one.  Without the encouragement from those first customers in the early days, I don’t know if we would have had the fortitude to continue.  In turn, our customers have come to find they depend on our products.  So much so, that five years ago, we began a winter sales group of our own, supplying farm products to 40 or so customers all winter while the regular market is closed. This works well for all involved.  The customers have access to fresh vegetables, eggs, chicken and lamb, and we have some positive cashflow at a notoriously slow time of year.

Fifteen years bring many changes. Our young daughters are now married women.  My gregarious husband is the Market Manager. Our sales have grown substantially, and now we average over one thousand dollars a week during the season. I have overcome the painful past and eagerly welcome the opportunity to produce food for the Market customers who helped me to heal.  We have learned much about agriculture and many related subjects.  Our customers often come to us for information and direction. The Market is now a bustling, vibrant place full of good food, enthusiastic customers and live music. The eclectic mix of vendors and customers has eased that ache in my heart.

My rural roots run deep and personally there is nothing more rewarding than growing food, except perhaps growing food as a livelihood.

Old Walt Disney might have been right,

 "You may not realize it when it happens,

but a kick in the teeth may be the BEST thing in the world for you."

                                                                           ~ Walt Disney

Honestly, we are thankful for that “kick in the teeth” despite all the anguish and sleeplessness it caused.  The Market has granted me the opportunity to do make a living doing something at which I (we) excel and love doing, with my best friend, in a beautiful location, knowing that folks appreciate my every effort.  It did indeed make my (our) life.

              Thanks, Farmers’ Market! J 

I should add here---a BIG thanks to the Boss for the pep talk (the on-going pep talks)...

 ...and THANK YOU for reading!

Off to the barn to start another day...

Oh, EWWWWW!

Sometimes, you might think that I have some serious problems...

...or perhaps I am just a REALLY bad housekeeper.  

Why would anyone let a beautiful specimen of a tomato like this one...

…turn into something like THIS?

Blech! 

Despite the fact that it looks like this is a science project gone bad…very bad, I really wanted this to happen.  I have a “method to my madness” and next planting season I will be glad for the moldy, smelly tomato glop that was drawing hordes of fruit flies.

But, why?

There are hundreds of varieties of tomatoes out there.  There are entire seed catalogs devoted to the delicious fruit.  Why create such a hideous mess when I could simply buy another package of seeds for under five bucks?

When the tomato crop is particularly gorgeous, we would like to perpetuate that for years to come.  By growing open-pollinated, heirloom varieties, that is a real possibility.  Hybrids do not always grow true to type, although the saved seeds will indeed grow and produce fruits.  The very definite positive to heirloom, open-pollinated varieties is that they will produce fruits like the parent plants. Although, the seeds I save will produce a slightly different crop than seeds saved elsewhere.  Eventually, the subtle differences make the tomato distinctive to the growing area.  The tomatoes grown here on the hill are unlike any others.  No, not bragging, just noting that the environmental differences do actually affect taste and quality to some degree.

This year the tomatoes were beautiful early in the season. (I’ll tell you about late season blight some other time….eeewwww) We also tried a new variety that we both really liked, so we wanted to have the ability to replicate this crop next growing season.

I used to think that if I squished the seeds out of a tomato, dried them on a paper towel, and peeled them off, I would be good to go.  That worked…sorta.  But, then I had tomato soaked paper-towels lying around, and sometimes I forgot to label them.  Sometimes, they didn’t peel off the paper towel.  A lot of times someone got grossed out over the whole project and I ended up tossing it and buying seeds anyway.

Eventually, I did a little research, learned a little about seed saving and started this new program.

By allowing the tomato to ferment and well, rot a little, the seeds are exposed to some sort of microorganism that aids in their germination the next season.  No, I really don’t understand all the scientific stuff.

After the tomato reaches a certain point of disgusting-ness, I rinse it thoroughly, washing away what is left of the flesh. 

A close inspection of the seeds reveals a little gel around each one.

When these dry, they look like they have little velour jackets.  They are quite fuzzy.  That fuzz provides the seed a little edge in germinating and taking root.

We then pop them in seed packets, file them and wait for the cycle to start over again in March. 

        ...and we will be looking forward to tomato season once more!

The Farm Fortress

For anyone wondering how we spent our Thursday…well, let me tell you…

Generally, the week has a rhythm, a certain routine.  But, every once in a while, there is a curveball, a completely unexpected and unpredicted issue that we must address. While I realize this happens to everyone, I don’t think everyone starts their day trying to figure out who/what ATE part of their paycheck.

 Oh, yes…something literally ATE part of our paycheck.

Morning started in the usual way.  Check the news and weather, feed the animals, have breakfast and discuss the jobs for the day.  We also were wondering if and when we would get my vehicle back from the shop, but that’s a story for another time.

The Boss set off to harvest potatoes for Market.  I headed to the hoophouses to mark the areas that needed clearing and tilling, and to make a mental list of what needed harvesting. It looked like the green beans needed some attention as well.

Hoophouse #1 looked pretty good, a little weedy, but the crops were looking healthy and nice.

Before the "attack"

As I walked into #2, I had the strangest feeling that something was amiss.

Hmmm, that looks odd…

   ….I think that lettuce is shrinking instead of growing. 

Wait a minute! Lettuce doesn’t shrink!

Oh, my beautiful lettuce! ...was NOT so beautiful anymore.

My first thought was that the recent heat had been too much for the tender crop.  While there are some plants that succumbed to the heat, heat alone didn’t account for the large swaths of damaged plants.

weeds weren't good enough

Closer investigation revealed that something had been enjoying the beautiful lettuce overnight. There were a few weeds that were missing the most tender bits, but apparently this critter had a penchant for lettuce. The most tender…almost ready to pick lettuce.

 No tracks, no scat, no burrowing…what in the world?

It was time to call for reinforcements.  A phone call to the Boss had him hurrying to the hoophouse, trap and tools in hand.  Forget the plan for the day…we were under attack!

First, he weed-whacked around the entire hoophouse. 

Then he secured chicken wire along the side that rolls up

.

Finally, he installed boards across the doorways to make varmint entry difficult.  Of course, it makes human entry difficult as well.  But, we’ll work around that…save the lettuce at all costs!

The hoophouse looks like a fortress. (Which is rather amusing considering we are probably protecting our crops from fairly small rodents). 

On the off-chance our unknown assailant is a groundhog, the trap was set up with bait…on the OUTSIDE of the hoophouse.

If, perchance, the culprit is indeed rabbits…