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.
WENDELL WEDNESDAY.
It has been a rainy Wednesday. My drive home from work was a terrifying journey through some crazy flash flooding and powerful gusty winds. Hard to even remember those dry days of the drought.- Hannah.
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.
STRANGE DAYS.
The garden is a strange place right now. We stand in it and feel a bit lost, still unsure of when we will have to leave. We continue to work - but our labors are no longer filled with hope and excitement and satisfaction. Planting our fall seedlings feels a little sad, each of us working in silence as we transplant, neither of us saying what we are thinking - "what is the point?" Our ambitious weeding and mulching program has fallen out of the picture completely, our cover crops neglected, the deer fence taken down. Our main focus has been the fall garden, hoping for a change to at least stay til November, and so we place our enthusiasm in that - tending to our little cauliflowers and broccoli and cabbages and hoping for a rain, for a little more time.
The garden also looks like a strange place these days, wild and full of life. Like I said, the weeds are a bit out of control. Our pole beans have overwhelmed their trellis, sending a massive tangle of vines toppling into the sorghum row. Watermelons are growing throughout the sweet potato patch. The vines of the pumpkins have died back, leaving them peculiarly arranged, inttermintantly placed alongside the tomatoes. We were letting our future garlic patch sit under a heavy planting of buckwheat, whose flowers have brought a consstant, throbbing hum of honeybees. One of my favorite examples of garden neglect is the old lettuce row. Lettuce, when left alone, will grow to an extreme height, getting taller and taller until it resembles some sort of Dr. Seuss-like flower. It is like a little alien garden of purple and green and yellow algae. On the plus side, besides lookingkind of amazing, letting your lettuce go to flower also allows you to collect and save seed!
We are hoping tonight to be able to sit down and determine our exact timeline – when we have to be out of the house, and what is going to happen with the garden. This will definitely help us to have a better idea about what comes next, the possibility of a Fall CSA share, and allow us to make some big decisions. As always, we will keep you updated!- Hannah