OFF GUARD FARMING.
My parents came to visit on Wednesday and I could tell when they left that the drought was concerning them. That is probably why they called on Thursday and asked us what we would do if it didn't rain again soon.The drought, it should be said, is a concern. On Monday I noticed our quarter acre of sweet potatoes wilting. Our late summer and winter squash, too. I knew that if we didn't indeed get rain for another (blazing hot) week, we would have to do something.But our options are limited. Hannah and I can haul water in five gallon buckets from the creek for our small plot, and have been. But for the big gardens, we would have to find a way to irrigate––watering a quarter acre of anything by hand is a day-long joke.We would do what we could, though, but inevitably some would be lost. In fact, it's possible we could lose so much that our fall share––a third of our income––would have to be cancelled. In an already tough year without chanterelle mushrooms and with the loss of forty turkeys (also known as $4,000), it would be crippling. But that's farming, and that's what I had to tell my parents. That we would inevitably be fine–-we have enough potatoes to make it through the winter––but yes, our income would be smashed to pieces.I'm sure they exist, but I can't really think of another job that demands seven days a week of work and does not guarantee you anything in return (maybe real-estate, but the payoff is larger). Of course, you can force farming to guarantee you things––through irrigation for example––and you can learn to be smart about how you plant and handle your moisture throughout the year. Yet some years it's just bound to catch you off guard. 2014 has been that year for us. In other jobs when you learn a lesson, you learn it, apply it and move on. In farming, you have to wait until the Spring to apply what the previous Summer taught you.Then it rained on Thursday night and I called my parents the next day to tell them we got an inch, we're hoping for more, but that inch will get us through the week. Farming off-the-grid as we do is immaculate in its level of difficulty. The stress hits you from all sides and sometimes it even manifests itself in wilting sweet potatoes. But this isn't a job just about money. This is a job about feeding people and healing the planet. It's a job about health and life and a million other things I will probably never see nor understand. So I try to keep that in mind when I'm caught off guard and feeling bewildered. I try to keep in mind that no matter what happens we'll survive and every year our farm and community will be that much healthier. Explaining this to your parents, however, is not always easy to do.- Jesse.
HISTORY LESSONS.
This winter I've been trying to catch up on some reading and lately the theme has seemed to lead to a simple conclusion: you aren't just what you eat, you are, unequivocally, what everyone eats.I'm currently reading Timothy Egan's "The Worst Hard Time," on The Great American Dust Bowl. This is a period of our history when the government pushed Native Americans (masters of husbandry, those guys) off their land and encouraged farmers to move West. Millions of acres were soon plowed on what was traditionally, and naturally, perennial prairie grass. Wheat was planted heavily throughout the late 1920's with the blessing of the government, a booming economy and good weather. Then, suddenly as if by punishment, the economy crumpled and the rains stopped... for nearly 10 years.
Far too many parallels can be drawn between how we were treating the land and the economy in the 20's vs. now––i.e. roaring 20's/Great Depression/Dustbowl vs. Roaring 2000's/Great Recession/Great Drought––and that might not seem so scary if I weren't a farmer now. In a situation like the Dust Bowl, it simply does not matter how one treats the land if everyone around them is plowing it up like idiots (sound familiar?). And we can now throw pesticides, herbicides and fungicides into the mix and arrive at not only the possibility of a brutal air assault, but a lasting and effective attack on our ground water, our local wildlife and our health.Last week, in fact, the New York Times had an article about that very subject, how at least one community in California could no longer drink its water for the poisons it contained from the runoff of a nearby commercial dairy (somehow tainting ground water is legal?). I know a natural farm whose spring––which they rely on entirely for their drinking water––was recently compromised when the neighbors decided to plant their wonderful pastures up the hill to corn, an act which requires loads of herbicide. Herbicide will seep into the soil, then the ground water, then build up in our bodies if we consume it. When we eat anything commercially farmed, we have to acknowledge there is a family somewhere who can't drink their own water because of it. And increasingly, a country that can't either."At present," writes Wendell Berry in a recent piece for the Atlantic, "80 percent of our farmable acreage is planted in annual crops, only 20 percent having the beneficent coverage of perennials. This, by the standard of any healthy ecosystem, is absurdly disproportionate." If we as a culture continue to depend on big agriculture for our food, all food will suffer, because all farmers will suffer. Everyone loses. We need proper husbandry and land practices, absolutely, but we farmers can only do so much. If our neighbors are still getting subsidies and the corn and soybeans are still flying off the shelves (and freezers), they will continue to plant them with gusto. And if mother nature decides she wants to cut the rain for a while (seen any terrifying droughts around lately?), then we might not see a trickle down effect, the effects might just roll over us like dirt in the Dust Bowl. All of us.- Jesse.
LE SIGH.
Unfortunately, our crazy relative Aunt Drought is back in town, staying in our garden and being a general annoyance: yesterday marks three weeks dry. Last night, since no rain randomly graced us, we found ourselves once again hauling water from the pond up to the garden to keep the fall share going which, at this moment, we're not even entirely sure if we'll be able to offer.A sigh doesn't quite explain this year entirely, but it comes close.We're not trying to unload another negative post, though! We just want to update our readers with what's going on and, unfortunately, what's going on sorta sucks. Besides the return of the dryness and the whole losing-our-garden thing, there are many positive possibilities revealing themselves, they are just too young to really talk about yet. So we try to simply focus on the small joys of our days...constant fresh bouquets of zinnias, a happy little wooden painting, a tree outside our window heavy with pears, bushels of garlic ready to be planted - location to be determined!Since we were asked to leave, our inbox has been flooded with kind notes and advice from many friends, family and strangers. It has all been very inspiring, and it will likely be out of this support that we find the setting for the next chapter––one you're helping to write. We haven't made a decision as to what to do next just yet, but we have been moved by how many options have presented themselves, and how many keep coming.We promise to keep everybody updated, and to keep keepin' on. We're sorry the blog has been such a downer lately, but we also hope one day we can be apologizing for being too cheery, too upbeat from a glut of wonderful happenings. This year might have been a sigh so far, but there's still plenty of time to turn it into a smile, and with all your love and support, plenty of reason to.- Jesse.
THE DROUGHT AND YOU.
We're hearing a lot in the news lately about the price of food: because of low soybean and corn yields this year, the price of food is going to rise. But it's not actually. Cheap, processed food is definitely going to start costing more––most of it being made with corn, corn syrup, and soybeans––which it should. But you, our dear CSA shareholders, other farmer's market supporters, and grass-fed meat buyers, will likely not have to spend an extra penny on your food. The drought hurt us and our garden, most definitely, but it did not devastate our supply. We have food and will continue to have food and your price will not change. In fact, with rising prices in the supermarket and fast food restaurants, the greatest effect supporters of small farms will see is probably more value in the food they already buy. Without changing anything, in comparison to prices in supermarkets, you will be getting an even better deal on better food than you already do! People often have a hard time justifying the price of local meat and produce, but if the local food is not much more expensive than the imported stuff you find in supermarkets––which I just heard a reporter on NPR say the price of corn-fed beef and lamb could rise as much as 5%––then perhaps more people will begin to transition over. Just a thought, but a pleasant, promising silver lining to this year's harsh (still ongoing for many) drought.- Jesse.