This is why I do this work. It’s for the production, of course: the thousands of pounds of potatoes popping out of the ground that will be eaten by all kinds of people with all levels of resources, including wealthy families, unhoused people, and those with nothing but crumbs and an old can of green beans in their pantries. The meticulous attention to quality for sale, cleaning and processing, weeding and row covering, transplanting an entire greenhouse in an hour. I do it for the pride of production and satisfaction of efficiency, the rewarding feeling of physical exhaustion at the end of a long day. But there’s more than that.Read More
They were born in February and March. Single, grass-like cotyledons springing up from the cold, moist potting soil in the nursery. Thousands of them, soft and supple, forming a carpet of growing tips that I used to run my hand over as I walked through the winter greenhouse to check on all the babes. I love the way they come out folded over-- creased right in the middle of that single fine stem-- and hang on to their black seed coats for a while, giving them a brief ride toward the scattered daylight.Read More
Christopher's slurping from the side of a green melon as I get up from my lunch time resting spot in the orchard. He's gnawing on it from the side, looking out over the youth farmer gardens.
"Is that melon from your garden?" I ask.
"Yeah, it is!"
"Sweet, that's awesome." He nods, keeps gnawing, looking kind of unsatisfied. It looks a little underripe from the deep green of the exterior. I was headed back to the picnic tables to start getting ready for the afternoon's projects, but I decide to linger for a bit.Read More
This is why I've been forcing myself to write every day: because when I set out to document and reflect on an entire week that's somehow slipped past me, the task seems impossible. There are so many details and conversations and colors and projects that happen in one hour, let alone one day-- and forget one whole week!-- that to try to encompass the whole will be woefully inadequate. Nonetheless, I guess, I'll persist.Read More
"Useful non-commercial plants of the Youth Farm, aka Weed Walk"
An annual workshop for the Youth Farm crew about plant medicine
(In much better words than I could conjure up on this hot afternoon)
1. I am not an expert. I have been studying herbs intentionally for about seven years, in varying degrees of intensity and in various ways (reading books, taking workshops, class series, and experimentation with myself, friends, and family), but I've only scratched the surface. My training has been focused primarily on Western European herbs that have naturalized here in the Pacific Northwest, as well as many northwest native species. Most of my perspective comes from two teachers, Jaci Guerena and Howie Brounstein, as well as a smattering of other teachers at herbal gatherings and workshops. If anyone ever tells you they're an expert in herbal medicine, run away.Read More
It's finally fresh corn season on the farm. In just the week I was gone, our first planting came and (almost) went. Our next one is fully pumping now, and we have four more waiting after that. Imagine: the youth farmers were planting baby seedlings for our last round, just down the field from where others were harvesting from the first round last week. Field two, behind the greenhouses, is a microcosm of the summer season, with three successional rounds planted side by side, baby to kid to teenager corn stalks, all still waiting to tassel and reproduce. The crazy part of it all, I realized yesterday, is that each planting's maturity brings us one week closer to the end of the crew's season. By the time they say goodbye at the end of September, we'll be closing in on those last plantings that today seem so far off from ever producing ears.Read More
I woke up super early on Saturday, excited. Excited about feeling love, excited for a weekend to come, excited to get the farm stand up and running, excited to work with a small crew of motivated youth farmers. I've learned again and again that the world gives me back what I bring to it, and today was no exception. I brought excitement, and the day proved generous and full to meet me.
Yes, we got the market set up in time, with beautiful mounds of vegetables, glistening deep red strawberries, buckets of flower bouquets. Yes, we harvested everything we needed to harvest before break time, weeded an overgrown bed of leeks, tilled up a new area to be planted. Yes, timing was right to get beds shaped, amended with manure and lime, and re-tilled flat for planting. Yes, enough youth farmers knew how to work with drip tape that I could just explain the goal of finishing the onion field and they were off and running with it without much help. Yes, the two volunteers that showed up could blend right in with the crew.
The farm is starting to manage itself. Yes, yes, yes.Read More
We took our annual youth farmer field trip on Friday-- the first time I've been around to join in. Jen finds a different farm to visit most years, as it's a difficult time for farmers to give up an entire morning for a tour. A couple years ago the crew went to Open Oak Farm in Sweet Home, where Adaptive Seeds operates its breeding programs. This year, we drove to Cottage Grove to tour Branch Road Farm with owner Andy, as well as FOOD for Lane County's Grassroots Garden in Eugene.Read More
Edith* comes back from the field rosy-cheeked and smiling. "We're done with transplanting, so we're going to start pulling potatoes." She looks enlivened despite the sweat and heat. Summer hasn't bogged her down yet. She heads off with Gerome to lead the rest of the field crew in the potato patch.
"I can go help them if you need," Madison says as they're leaving. She's stuck up front, processing produce for market tomorrow with a small crew. I know she prefers the field, and she's being a good sport about volunteering for whatever we need. She busts out salad mix washing by herself, sprays rounds of beets, sorts onions-- and all the while she's imagining her hands in the soil, across from someone else crouched low to the ground, sun on her back, the satisfaction of seeing a freshly transplanted bed. She stays in processing, because we need her up front today.
Meanwhile, Abby is off in the CSA shed with Jen all day, bagging salad mix and cleaning up leftover produce. She takes her break and lunch late because we forget that she's over there, forget to call her off. But she seems happy in the shade and ease of preparing CSA totes-- unlike Madison, she'd be dreaming of cleaning onions if she were stuck out in the field hoeing or planting.
Every youth farmer is so different.Read More
It sounded so easy: "Transplant the winter squash." They've been ready for a week or two already, so what's the big deal? Just pop 'em in the ground.
After a full week of trying to get such a seemingly simple project done, I am humbled. Yes, amazed by how much zucchini is coming out of the fields, dumbfounded by how fast weeds are growing, impressed by the skill and pace of all the interns, and surprised by how much time irrigation management takes. But mostly, I am humbled by this project that's not even close to done on the eve of our last chance for the week.Read More
Days like this expand and contract beyond my control. They start quiet, if I arrive early enough to beat the crew and volunteers and barrage of questions they inevitably bring. I can walk the farm, open sheds, check the nursery, get my bearings. The stretching circle with the crew centers us, brings laughter and conversation, and the work meeting sets the stage for the day.
Beyond that, it expands in leaps and bounds until there are twenty things happening at once.Read More
"How about, what store do you shop at?" Everyone hesitates and looks around. I know there's going to be questions like this. Do you like red or green apples better? What time do you wake up every day? But not today, so early in the season. "Come on, how about something a little deeper?" I step in. "Just a little?" Eventually someone suggests talking about what we've learned and how we've grown over this past school year for the morning stretching circle talk, and we begin.Read More
"I showed up around ten o'clock for my environmental studies class assignment. I had a hard time waking up, and the sun felt really intense even by mid morning. A woman showed us around for a while, and I tried raw kale for the first time. It was actually pretty good. Leafy tasting. I volunteered to thin apples before I knew what it meant, and I was happy I did: I got to be in the shade most of the morning, just cutting baby apples off the branches to make better fruit. I even climbed up into some of the trees, and for a few minutes I forgot all about my classes and final projects-- the sound of apples plopping onto the tarp, light filtering through the leaves, birds chirping nearby. What a relief."Read More
Community. It's an overused, misunderstood, idealistic idea. I use it all the time in my orientation tours for groups at the farm, mentioning "the community" as if it's a concrete group of people. Or on social media, thanking "the community" for its support of our plant sales and farm stands. We talk about it as part of our organizational values, emphasizing that everyone is included and welcome in the work we do. Back when I first starting organic farming at Gathering Together Farm in Philomath, Oregon, I was doing interviews with staff and surveys of Community Supported Agriculture members for an independent study in school, and asked the owners what they thought about "community". For all the talk of inclusiveness and outreach toward consumers in this food movement, what they said really stuck with me: "If people talk about the community, it really is the group of us working." Small farms do so much work to try to include customers and families to feel "part of the farm," but the real connections come from working hard together.
On Saturday, a new community started to form as the youth farmer crew started their first day of work. Most arrived early and huddled near the tool shed, labelling their cubbies and making nervous small talk. A few friendly words exchanged among strangers. Step one.Read More
We met with this season's six crew leaders this afternoon. Jen arrives early to get paperwork set out and greet everyone while Ted, Kiya, and I scramble to finish off a few projects before the meeting. They trickle in early, all in good spirits, so ready to jump back in to the farm.Read More
Kiya arrives late, zipping up a borrowed FOOD for Lane County hoodie on her way toward me in the nursery. She looks frazzled. An Americorps NCCC crew of ten young people is here again for the whole day, and I'm racing back and forth between potting up field tomatoes and showing one of them how to water our sand box heat mats to maintain heat conductivity. Kiya looks beyond me for Ted for a moment, then immediately apologizes for being late, launching into a string of events that had her car and bike both break down as she tried to get here this morning. I stop what I'm doing, try to soothe her anxiety, and listen.Read More
For those of you who read my last post, rest assured that I had my moment with the bean sprouts this morning, and, though it wasn't as profound as it could have been, I let them break me out of my mind for a breath or two and appreciate their strength. Yes, I kept my rambling mind in check today, enjoying the random moments of mixing fertilizer or showing volunteers how to spray carrots, setting up hoses and sorting through random piles of labels. There's one thing that I've been allowing my brain to continue mulling over and over, even as the day ends and the evening light sparkles hundreds of wishes in the orchard.
The crew. Jen and I have been interviewing a couple dozen applicants for this season's youth crew, and it's one of the most difficult processes I go through all year.Read More