Dear Farm Friends,
Have you ever seen 192 pounds of green beans? I hadn’t until today, but that was our morning harvest. As with many things this year, the heat of June and July pushed together in time two different plantings that were planted weeks apart in order to spread out their peak abundance. It didn’t work, it’s all right now. Many are in the farmstore, more are coming to market, and believe it or not, more will be ready to harvest on Monday. We can’t quite believe it ourselves. That epic harvest this morning was followed by another bulk harvest, this one of cabbage, as one of our storage varieties, which usually matures in late August or early September, was starting to split because of the heat. The only solution was to cut it and truck it to our rented walk-in cooler space over at the Ag Experiment Station.
I know August is technically not here till Sunday, but it has felt like it here for a while. When we stare at these mountains of produce, just harvested or soon to harvest, the weight of August settles in. Watch soon for some sign-ups for bulk deals on some of these…beets and beans for pickling, cabbage for kraut, kale and squash and more for processing and freezing. We have the food, so much food….we just have to find the ways to get organized and get it to you!
After a strong start in spring, we are well aware our “weekly” newsletters from the farm have dropped off sharply. It’s been one of our hardest seasons, for a myriad of reasons, and the irony is some of that has made it harder than ever to keep our people updated, informed, and connected. We are ever so grateful for the supporters who have known us long enough that they see the struggle, and respond with “I am bringing you dinner.” Last week, by our count, we had food delivered by farm members more days than we did not. I almost tear up just thinking of the caring and love that goes into each of those meals, the fact that we had a whole section of our farmstore for returning people’s dishes on Tuesday. Thanks to that, we got just far enough ahead in washing our dishes that last Saturday we could make a batch of pesto out of the market leftover basil. Those dinners meant we have a few more treats stowed in the freezer for winter dinners of farm food, and we are so glad.
As I write this, Noah is harvesting zucchini by headlamp, and I am trying to gauge what or how much I can tackle from the harvest list that is nowhere near complete. The normal calculus of what is most valuable, what would be most missed, and what we have the ability to muster ourselves for is complicated further by the calculation of what I can or should accomplish in the face of a persistent foot pain for which so far the only prescribed solution is “rest.” Not walking, not taking steps, staying off her feet, simply isn’t something a farmer can do in July without pretty much stopping all the work of farming. The team has been good at trying to stop me, trying to support and pick up the slack. But we are a small crew, already stretched thin, so everything is a tradeoff. So much of the daily work of farming at human scale relies on the body of the humans doing the farming. To be honest, I hate sharing anything about injuries, problems like this. I don’t want to answer 100 questions at market about “what happened” or what my symptoms are. But as Noah constantly reminds me, people have to understand what’s going on. It’s part of the farm we are, or want to be, that people understand. And so we have to admit that this season, especially after losing 1 of the 2 people intended to be the core team with the two of us, we have pushed ourselves, physically and mentally, to and beyond our limits. We have never had quite so many nights of so little sleep, or quite such a constant effort to determine what gets done and what gets cut.
We are dealing with it in various ways; there’s an appointment on Monday with a physical therapist who works with distance runners and understands extreme athletes (we think farming fits that category). We still need to get a new, revamped job ad out to add another farmer to the core crew. We’ll figure it out, like we will the other challenges—how to let the other farmer peel away from the production of produce work, to make progress on our packshed, which is the long-term solution to so many of our current problems—even if we aren’t yet sure how. It can be so hard, though, to take the actions really needed to invest in the long game. To say, we will not harvest crop X today in order to finalize the details of the packshed roof. Or we will have none of crop Y at market, though we have plenty in the field, so that one farmer can stop, ice her foot, and get more sleep. We hear the disappointed sighs in the farmstore at the lack of lettuce or tomatoes, or whatever you were most hoping for. It is heartbreaking, when we have pushed ourselves, to know we have also disappointed. Knowing we are a true community supported farm, we try to ask our people for what we need. It’s odd that the asks for money, for funding a home for us to live in, or loans to fund a better set of tools for soil health, have been relatively easy. Right now, we are not sure what to ask for, other than patience and understanding.
But regardless of all that….there is food. I don’t know, still, what will and will not make it in from the last of the harvest list. I am sure there will a few gaps. I do know all the greens are packed, including chard and kale and salad mix. We have beet and carrot bunches, radishes, bags of bulk carrots, cucumbers of all kinds, so so many of those beans. Beautiful fresh onions, thanks to a new part-time helper Dylan. Sunflowers and some supplies for mixed bunches, thanks to market and flower helper Adrienne. Zucchini enough to feed the whole town, and so much cabbage. Sabrina got all the tomatoes, and there are double the number there were last week, thanks in part to her work pruning and trellising them. There is plenty, plenty of food, so we hope we’ll see you at market Saturday morning, or at the farmstore anytime all week. We’re working on the solutions, and hope that you’ll stick with us.
Possibly the best thing anyone said to us recently was “please don’t lose heart.” Thank you. We are working on it.
With gratitude and grit,
Mary and Noah, SweetRoot Farm