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.
PONDERING.
The other day I was walking through our woods and stepped over a very wet, almost swamp-like piece of ground. It was about 5-10 feet of elevation, and about 100 yards above where our blueberries are growing and where our high tunnel lives. These mushy spots are common, especially in the wet days of winter, but it occurred to me in that moment that it might be a good spot for a small pond. In fact, with its location, and with our predominantly clay subsoil (good for holding water), it might be ideal.So I brought the shovel up and dug a hole. I'm a fan of digging holes. I love the physicality and the results. I love owning property so I can dig a hole wherever I want, because sometimes you just need a hole, or want to dig one. When I was done, I let it fill with water and kept an eye on its level over the next few days. Although a small rain the next day might have tainted the results a bit, it held the water and I felt this might indeed work as our first, small pond.The idea is to have a little extra water source for irrigation and for livestock (when we get them). The pond will be located near the middle of what we're calling our first pasture, which right now looks more like a cedar forest than grass, punctuated by all brand of rose bush, briar and honey suckle, but we're working on that. With the aforementioned elevation, however, we should be able to get enough pressure from the drop to run the water through a sprinkler or drip-irrigation system in our high-tunnel (when we fix it). Digging this pond will be a fun chore when our minds are cloudy, or when we can't think of a particular project to work on, or for me when I just get the urge to dig a hole––which is wont to happen. Because sometimes, that's where ponds come from.- Jesse.
THE HAUL.
Unfortunately, those 20–30% chances of rain over the last few days turned out to be no rain at all, and thus none-to0-helpful. We did get a few drops on Tuesday evening but they promptly evaporated, turning immediately into humidity as the sun came out and the temperature shot back up to 100 degrees. So, this morning we decided to start intervening lightly by adding just enough water to keep our garden chugging along. We waded into the pond, loaded 16 water jugs individually and hauled them up to the garden where they now sit poised to save some plants. Tonight, once the sun relents a bit, we'll spread the water out onto our crops and continue to watch the sky. We don't love the idea of irrigating, but nature seems to be slacking in that department at the moment, and I must say I'm excited to add this pond water––dense with fertility and microbiology––to the garden, even if only in a small dose. The plants will no doubt be excited to feel a bit of fresh moisture against their roots!
- Jesse.
