Spartan Hayers

July 23, 2009
Yesterday I visited Far Reaches Farm with Amy Rose. We volunteered all morning, starting at nine and finishing around 1. Lucky me, the owner set me to work weeding a large raised bed full of thistles and clover! All the same it was interesting to change my scenery, even if only for a few hours. The plants grown are exotic fuzzy cacti and shrubs with purple Alice in Wonderland berries from around the world. Nestled in black plastic pots, the plants fill 5 hoop houses and an acre of land.


Curran Driving


Cherry Belle and French Breakfast Radishes

Returning to Sunfield at 1, I pitched in to help finish the afternoon chores before gorging on salad, bread, and fettuccini noodles with sugar snap peas. Immediately after lunch we began a marathon harvest of beets (20 bunches), carrots (50 bunches), mizuna (10 gallons), arugla (15 pounds), broccoli, squash, zucchini, basil, parsley, chard, lettuce mix, lettuce heads, and more for the rest of the CSA and most of the Queen Ann market harvest. Loading the harvest truck with icy well water, plastic tubs, harvesting knives, rubber bands, and the rest of the harvesting gear, we managed to finish the job (at least the harvest) by 5. We had 6 people working as fast as possible in the heat of the day so it went quite a bit faster than normal—we usually only have 3 or 4 workers at once. Processing the produce was a team effort as well, washing, boxing, and preparing the goods for market. Finally after cleaning the processing flat we were ready for the real work: haying.


Celebrating 5 Months to Christmas (we needed a reason to stay up late)



Several days before the hay had been mowed, laid out for a couple of days to dry, and then baled the day before yesterday. It was time to collect the bales and huck them to the barn loft. We don’t have an elevator so we had to toss the 40-70 lb bales by hand through the narrow loft window which proved to be quite a task after loading them on the trailer by hand as well. Leslie, Sarah, Danielle, and Heather loaded the flat bed truck with 3-4 tiers of bales and took the truck back to start lofting them before we returned. Eric, Rampa, Curran, Celeste, and I worked the trailer bed and tractor. Curran drove the tractor (his first time ever—he’s 9) while Celeste sat on top of our hay tower, an observatory of sorts, adjusting her position as the hay piled higher and higher. Eric arranged the bales while Rampa and I sprinted around the field collected bales and throwing them on the trailer bed. By the time we reached the 7th tier I was beginning to wonder if we should unload the trailer. Being mischievous farmers, we decided to collect the ENTIRE field alone and built an 8 tier tower of bales that reached 30 feet in height. Have you ever thrown a bale more than 4 feet? Try loading a moving trailer while tossing a bale 2-4 feet above your head—AFTER a full day of work. And then toss them to the barn loft.


I taught myself how to braid garlic!


Elan's AWESOME Cob Oven Pizza (This was the first pizza we cooked in Sunfield's Cob Oven)

Despite the grueling work everyone was in high spirits. For the first time since I started farming I realized I was truly happy with the work I was doing. Having extra people around was energizing and exciting, providing fresh conversation and new company. The smell of the freshly baled hay permeated our clothes which were drenched in sweat from the vigorous exertion of the fast-moving task. Despite the protective layer of flannel and denim covering my arms and legs, I had hay down my shirt, in my underwear, and stuck to my hair. My arms and legs were raw and scratched, and my throat was choked with hay dust making me feel like I was on fire inside and out. As a member of the Spartan haying team, I was happy to comply with Eric’s insistence that everyone have a piece of hay hanging from the corners of our mouths making the experience complete. By the time the task was finished it was almost 9 o’clock. I would have to return to work at 6:30 the next morning for the market harvest so Willie could make it for the noon ferry to Seattle. I hardly cared that I would be tired and sore the next morning—I was in too good a mood for that to matter. I felt like a healthy black lab after a fantastic game of fetch, flopped in the grass, panting and weary but still grinning.


Hay Team


Eric Stacking Hay

July 31, 2009
One of the greater understandings I’ve come to learn about farming is the importance of timing. The other day Sarah and I trellised about 50 tomatoes in the baking sun, standing on black fabric against the side of the long barn. We had to hose ourselves down with icy well water every 30 minutes or so to keep from overheating our bodies. Before we could trellis the tomatoes to the steel wire hanging 6 feet off the ground we had to trim the suckers off the plants, hauling away wheel barrow loads of healthy stems and leaves. It seemed a waste to trim off so much green matter from the plants. The tomatoes had put so much work into producing the thick stems and leaves that by the time we took the time to trim and trellis them, the suckers were 1-2 feet in length. Had we trimmed them a week or two earlier (or even before that), the plant would not have used so much energy to produce what we were merely toss to the compost.


Hay Tower




Other plants, such as summer squash, required constant picking. Even if the squash would not be eaten or sold or harvested for CSA shares it needed to be picked so the plant would continue to produce high quantities of squash.




Curran Leaping from the Loft

August 6, 2009
I take pride in the fact that I feed myself. Not only do I plant seeds, transplant, weed, water and tend countless amounts of produce but I bake my bread and milk my cows. While eating the dinner I prepared this evening I was struck by the fact that I baked my bread, milked my cow, harvested my eggplant, onions, garlic, and broccoli, stewed my black bean and garlic soup from scratch (I soaked the beans and all!), and obtained my organic Fromage Blanc from the local creamery via trading produce which I also harvested myself. Beyond my food, I bike to and from work. This is the sort of independence I’ve advocated everyone should have, but it struck me that I’ve never really followed through until now—and for the most part, until I had no choice. Yet, given the choice, I don’t think I would feel as happy or healthy as I do now if I did go “back”. Besides, I can hardly conceive how sad I’ll be to give up fresh raw milk when I go back to school. (Time for Berea to get a dairy cow or goat!).

A New Kind of P.O.W.

July 12, 2009
The skin on my forearms which smells like garlic and freshly turned dirt is deeply tanned now. My hands are veiny and cracked since the dry soil leeches moisture from every molecule of air in the sky and every pore in my skin, an organ learning to deal with a new set of harsh conditions—not those of lotions and perfumes and unnatural chemicals, but an abundance of that which is natural: sun, dirt, wind, water, cold mornings, and hot afternoons.


Jeff, DARLENE, John during our Tall Grassy Field Picnic

My energy ebbs and weaves, but I can work a solid 8 hours without feeling too exhausted and miserable to even prepare a decent meal. It’s as hard as ever to make myself crawl out of my sleeping bag in the cold Airstream when my alarm shrieks, vying for my attention over my preference for sleep, but once I’m up I feel ready to head to the battlefields, forming my strategies and attacking my enemy with my best weaponry (a hoe); hoeing and hand weeding nightshade and lambs quarter. Each day I’m taken, a POW in a sense, and though I’m a Prisoner of the Weeds I don’t relent from feeling overwhelmed. I understand that the weeds are above and beyond even what I could imagine I can control.


Deformed Carrot

It’s humbling to spend 5 hours hoeing the carrots only to find that you have only finished one 200 row out of 60 or 70 rows and that I’ll have to go back and weed it at least once more to ensure their success. It’s frustrating to be so small and make such small impacts on the microcosm we pretend to control as biodynamic farmers. We could introduce industry to the land, its soil and its life, but we prefer to stay humble here. Perhaps small scale farming is just the acceptance that the world is too big to handle, much as we try. That’s why we’re doing things a little bit at a time—so we can establish our limits without shorting ourselves but also without overextending ourselves.


A Chicken!

July 15, 2009
Danielle and I harvested the softneck garlic from row 4, all in all maybe 500 heads or more laying on the floor of the long barn for the first step of drying them. I have been going into the barn during the hot afternoons to bunch the garlic and hang it from the rafters with baling twine, but the process is slow since I have to clean the dirt off without peeling off too many layers of skin so I still have another 4 or 5 hours left (not including those I plan to braid). I’ll braid maybe 10 or 11 more, but it takes about 10 minutes to make a really nice braid so I won’t have time to braid them all—but cheers for self-taught skills on value added products!


Frances Milking Auggie

Even though I don’t feel like I’m learning a lot, I know I’m underestimating what knowledge I’ve acquired simply by being on a farm. Learning how to harvest produce such as broccoli or scapes so that the plant is actually stimulated to keep producing vegetables or leaves is probably one of the more important things I’ve learned. Seeing how squash, if it’s not ripe one day, may very well be ready to harvest the next morning—and how to time that with market and CSA days adds a twist to the plot. Watching lettuce and spinach bolt as soon as the weather turns too hot and dry for too long makes me realize what a short window of opportunity I have to take advantage of the fruits (or greens) of my labor and how much the weather and the timing of planting or transplanting really affects that plant’s life. It is fascinating to me.


The Hoophouse

Back when I thought I could actually weed a row in 45 minutes....

June 29
Willie and I spent the morning preparing for “Mind Mulch”, a program organized between Kate, an extension agent, and local farmers. It’s the first year that they’ve tried the program, but interns from various local, organic/biodynamic farms near Port Townsend will meet every two weeks for a couple of hours to socialize a bit and meet each other as well as have a quick lecture from a farmer about the methods of composting or biodynamic farming. This will allow us to learn from each other and other farmers. Willie was hosting this particular program and planned to discuss the methods of composting.


Cob Oven Pizza Party at Finn River Farm

Without turning on any lights, I popped a mug of water in the microwave and I flipped through Zack’s photos of the JMT. When the microwave beeped, I stood and carefully pulled my cup from the microwave. In doing so, I noticed something the size of a nickel was floating in my cup. Apparently a spider had decided to weave a web inside my mug (odd, I know, but it’s true) and I fried him in my microwave in my quest for a cup of Lapsang Souchong.

June 30, 2009
Carrots. So many carrots. I weeded carrots for 5 hours today. That’s 2 rows done: two more to go. It’s a tedious task. The leaves are lacy and small, resembling parsley. The weeds are thick and 12 inches tall, making me feel as if I were playing “Where’s Waldo?” with the carrots. After tiring of the carrots, I weeded strawberries. Same game. Except I got to eat the strawberries I managed to find, ensconced in the fuzzy, almond shaped leaves of the flowering night shade.


Sarah and Eric Fixing the BCS. Farming is EASY. That's why Sarah's wearing a dress.

After tiring of the strawberries, I decided to weed the cabbages with a hoe so I could stand up and stretch my stiff back and knees. Feeling my jeans rub uncomfortably on my lower back, I looked down and realized that I had actually managed to sunburn myself. I had forgotten my belt, so my pants were riding unusually low, especially while crouched with my back to the sun. My shirt had ridden up so the white slat of skin between my jeans and shirt caught several hours worth of intense rays. Though it’s not very hot here (relative to the South), the sun is extremely intense. I feel rather baked and exposed so I bought myself an old man’s fishing hat from the local thrift store, Olycap. Later I learned that Washington has the highest rate of skin cancer in the nation. Part of that is attributed to the short summers with intense sunshine. People don’t take the time to use sunscreen and find that they are burned quite badly—even I was burned quite badly after just a few hours!


Golden Beets are BEAUTIFUL

July 6, 2009
I worked two weeks straight with a one-day weekend, so was allowed to take a three day weekend this week. I certainly deserved it. Though I didn’t spend my entire weekend sleeping (there’s too much to do on the 4th of July!) I do feel quite rejuvenated and ready (mostly) to go back to work. I’m not particularly excited about it though. I don’t mind the work too much, but I don’t really look forward to it either. Over the past two weeks, I realize that I would enjoy the work if I did not work as much. I would be able to appreciate growing a garden of my own, producing as many fruits and vegetables for my own family as possible, but I have not discovered any hidden desire to start a farm of my own. Not to say that working at Sunfield is a waste of time—I have so much more respect for farmers than I ever thought possible.


This is also a chicken.

July 7, 2009
Oh…this is awful. I accidentally labeled every single artist in my iTunes library as Bela Fleck. I thought I was in the Bela Fleck section and was trying to consolidate some songs so I can have enough room on my laptop for my new influx of photos, but messed up my entire library instead. I thought I would be clever and delete my iTunes library and reload the music from my hard drive, but the changes follow through to the hard drive as well. So now EVERYTHING I own is apparently written by Bela Fleck. I had no idea he was so into techno and rock. Quite the versatile man.


This is a chicken.

I weeded today—strawberries and pumpkins. Then I harvested summer squash. There were not too many that were ready for harvest, but there are enough to fill the CSA shares tomorrow. The delicately curved produce indicates its ripeness by the flower on the end of the vegetable. If the flower is in full bloom, it’s not ready. If it’s wilted and brown, it should be ready for harvest. Otherwise, we I only worked from 8 to 5 today since Sarah and I were the only ones on the farm. Danielle had the day off, Heather was taking care of her kids, and Willie had a doctor’s appointment in Seattle, so nothing was keeping us on the farm for too long. Woohoo!

A New Definition of Excitement and Events

June 25
I woke at 5:30, changed into my dirty-ish work clothes (no sense in dirtying my clean clothes yet) and climbed on Amy Rose’s bike. I rode past sweet, tree-lined ponds, a front yard full of brown and white llamas, and dark green forests which would appear ominous except for the joyous songbirds twittering amongst each other competing to be the earliest bird that got the worm. Mist rose from green cow pastures while a white-faced red bull wandered through the pools of sunlight streaming hopefully through the gentle morning clouds, giving me the (false) idea that it would be sunny and beautiful all day. Well, it was certainly beautiful—but it wasn’t exactly sunny. I arrived at work by 6 and Sarah asked me how my first bike ride went. “Stunning. Also entirely downhill,” I replied.

Going home will be a little bit harder.


Auggie

Harvesting 40 lbs of spinach and lettuce, along with a box of garlic, buckets of cut flowers, and more, we were in a rush to prepare for the Queen Ann Market in a wealthier district in Seattle. Sarah and Willie left by 11 to drive to Bainbridge Island and catch the 12:20 ferry to Seattle. Cleaning the processing area, I hosed the bathtub, Tupperware harvesting containers, and wash machine of the dirt and straggling greens. We use the wash machine on its spin cycle to dry our greens—brilliant, no? (Though now that I think about it, I believe I forgot to clean the wash machine…ah, well, better memory next time). Snagging a ride to collect groceries so I could stop eating Sarah’s food (which she kindly gave me without any second questions), I prepared my own meal, took a quick nap, using my cuddly orange Monkey fleece as a pillow (still has sharp weed seed pods stuck in it from picnicking next to the river near Bolinas), and headed to the fields for my afternoon chores.


Bob the Bulldog

My hands were so dirty I couldn’t even see the blisters forming across the crest of each palm. Thus is life when you spend 5 hours weeding an artichoke row intercropped with delicate, elegantly purple lettuce heads. The path on either side was waist high with weeds—mostly lambs quarter—while the interior of the row was clogged with clover, various strongly rooted grasses, and other weeds I cannot identify (yet). Using a hoe, I cleared the pathway on both sides of the endless row. It was an excellent workout and made my biceps grow almost as fast as the city of weeds at Sunfield. I had to crouch and weed the interior of the row by hand lest I carelessly shred the precious crops with a hand tool. The artichokes were spiny and I had to be wary of which weeds I grabbed with my bare hands—it was difficult and slow to work with gloves since I couldn’t feel the smaller weeds ensconced just under the broad lettuce leaves. Despite it being a fairly gnarly process, I felt wonderful as I absorbed myself alone in the field, my thoughts moving entirely without direction but my body physically dedicated to the task at hand.


Danielle and Leslie

BLAAAA….well….It’s dark in the covered porch and the only light I’m using is my laptop screen. I was sitting here innocently writing in my journal and listening to my music when a 2 ½ inch spider just descended from the ceiling about 4 inches from the tip of my nose. My first reaction was to blow it away from my face—but physics dictates that the spider will swing directly back into my face after swinging away. Flinging my head backwards (into the wall), the spider grazed the bridge of my nose. I make lots of stupid mistakes, but I don’t usually make the same mistake twice—the next time it swung away, I ducked and moved to a safer location (it’s probably under another web, but whatever). The place is clean—spider webs are just an integral part of living in the woods.


Danielle


Danielle and Leslie process

June 26, 2009

Today was fairly uneventful. I pressed soil blocks and seeded flats for a few hours before weeding the pumpkin patch—an unpleasant task since the vines are quite spiny. My arms are itchy and rashy, so I’ll probably not be doing that again! That’s the nice thing about a farm. If you don’t want to do something, it’s okay. There are a million other things to do. I don’t know how heartening that is in the long run, but at least I won’t be weeding any more pumpkins!

HA. I am rereading my journal to make sure nothing ‘too honest’ has been stated before I post this on the internet and find the section about the pumpkins quite funny because I was wrong. I’ve returned to that patch a time or two. That said, I think you get the idea. Sometimes things just have to be done anyway!


Curran and Celeste help me braid garlic.


Friday night...Frances cooks real meals!

Sarah and I started talking about China and its laws limiting the number of children per household. I argued that I don’t like the idea of limiting parents on how many kids they can have, but since population is the number one contributor to poverty then it’s absolutely necessary to impose such restrictions. I think it’s terrible that this has lead to the death and abandonment of female babies, but this is a result of the Chinese culture—not the law itself. Thus, I disagree with that aspect of the culture. Sarah mentioned reading about a mother who had the audacity to birth 18 children to our crowded world. Each child’s name began with the letter “J” so I spent several hours thinking of names that begin with J, most of which are biblical.


Braided carrots I found while harvesting for CSA

In writing about thinking of names that begin with the letter J as an “event” I am fairly amused with myself. It’s amazing how the mind begins to wander when in the field for so many hours, hands moving methodically, back consistently sore. Some thoughts are completely random and lack direction or feeling. Sometimes I start thinking about how I wasn’t thinking about anything at all, realizing that I was unintentionally meditating just allowing the dry topsoil to slide through my hands or relishing the satisfaction of tearing a tough root from the dark soil. The majority of my thoughts, however, are memories replaying themselves in my head—not haunting or nagging me, simply making themselves present, available for reflection. I don’t hit recall buttons, searching for specific moments or scenarios but allow the thoughts to come and go as they please. Though I’ve come across various understandings of myself and what is likely to become of me and the relationships I’m forming with people, I haven’t had any spectacular epiphanies. More than anything, I’m gaining an appreciation for the freedom I’m allowing my mind to have. I’ve always enjoyed a nice hike or some time alone just sitting in the quad or a field or the mindless brutality of a hard run, but this lack of restrictions is quite different from anything I’ve come across. This independence lasts all day, every day. Though I don’t feel useless with it either, as if I’m floating without a direction in mind. This will allow me to stew and ponder as I please—hopefully not to the extent that I beat dead horses (I’m more likely to beat the wicked rooster that attacked me yesterday anyway)—but will at least let me consider the events of the past few months in peace.

This Farmer Likes to Write

I wasn't planning on creating a blog for this summer, but after my computer blue-screened for the 9th time in 4 months (as of last night) I decided I want to ensure that my journal and photos are preserved. That aside, I've been asked if I planned on creating another blog so I decided to do just that. I won't be writing as extensively here since there's not a whole lot I can say about weeding, but I can certainly share my photos with you. Plus after my first haying experience yesterday I am too excited to not share my excitement about life on the farm with the rest of the world in hopes of spreading some interest and developing the idea in peoples heads that farming is a beautiful career (perhaps not for me, but that's yet to be decided, if ever).


My Rockin' Airstream

I'm working as the farmer's apprentice (I'm officially Apprentice #2)for Sunfield Farm and School (501c3) in Port Hadlock, Washington (on the Eastern edge of the Peninsula). The school is a private Waldorf school (grades K-7) which follow's Rudolph Steiner's ideology on agriculture and education. The Waldorf education is quite different from the average public school education. Arts and social life are strongly encouraged at school. The kindergartners spend no time in the classroom. The children go to school in order to play. Granted their play is mostly in the from of songs or teacher led games and walks in the woods and wetlands on the 85 acre property (protected by a land trust) but they don't sit in chairs and learn their ABC's like other children. There is very little emphasis on reading, writing, and the "classics" skills (though mathematics are well covered). I believe that this helps involve parents with their children's education since many children learn to read at home with the one-on-one attention of their loving mothers and fathers. I know very little about the Waldorf education (the school is obviously not in session at the moment since it's summer and the camps they offer are not the same as their regular school sessions) so don't take my brief summary for granted. Waldorf is a fairly common system so just Google it and find out a bit more. It's fascinating. All I have to say is that the children are some of the smartest and friendliest people I've ever met. They're learning the same thing I'm learning in COLLEGE. Plus their interactions with each other are forgiving, patient, and beautiful--what more can you want from children?


The Hoophouse

Enough about Waldorf...I'm working on the farm. Though the farm and school are one operation, I'm based entirely on the farm, running the CSA and market harvests and pioneering the weeding with two other girls.

I have received an astonishing amount of criticism for working on a farm for the summer from various friends of a relative and other neighbors. Nothing direct was stated, but upon announcing my plan to work on a farm for the summer as an internship I found that certain people did not know what to make of me which read across their faces and their uncertain words of congratulations for finding such a wonderful job. This slightly non-conventional manner of developing my skills seemed to them to be a bit childish and silly. Why wasn't I studying abroad or assisting a marketing manager like all the other children of higher thinking? This has angered me (quite a bit) which is partly why I have interest in sharing my thoughts and experiences on the farm--not that I have created this journal out of anger, but I do like to channel my energy productively and I want to share the beauty of working outside with anyone who's willing to read this!


I like to have dance parties in my Airstream.

And we begin....

Finally home after my first official day at work (I jumped in to help when I arrived yesterday at 11 a.m. and didn’t leave until 9:00 that night…lots of chores to do), I’m getting a brief opportunity to catch my breath and absorb myself with my settings. Home is a 30 foot Airstream with a 150 square foot porch attached to it. Settled in a small clearing in the evergreen forest on a small, family owned and operated goat farm (future cheese-making business), I’m four miles from Sunfield. The family, Amy Rose, Bruce, and Esther (their five-year-old) live in the building that will become their business after they have a chance to build their home on the same small plot of land. They lived in the Airstream for a year after driving it across the country from Philadelphia where Bruce had a catering business (he still makes the most amazing pastries ever).


Broccoli Patch with Chicken Coop

The Airstream is fully outfitted: stove, oven, TV (not going to use it, but it’s here), stereo (don’t have CD’s), bathroom, double bed, pull-out couch, kitchen table, refrigerator, microwave…yes, you get it, the works. Best of all, it’s decorated with lots of Esther’s crayon drawings and a bouquet of fragrant wildflowers she picked for me this afternoon. It’s a 300 square foot home in the woods of the Olympic Peninsula. Basically my dream home. Amy Rose has loaned me various cooking wares; a pot, a pan, tea kettle, French press, some oatmeal, a towel, and dishwashing materials. All I need is a bike (which I have a loaner from Rose-May) and a trip to the grocery store…then I’ll never want to leave my trailer. It’s a good thing I love the farm already.

Sarah Alt (my 26 year-old co-worker from Wisconsin…”WiscAnsin”…she doesn’t actually say it that way, just poking fun at the Cheeseheads) and I woke early this morning…rather she was up at 5:45 and had to wake up my lazy ass at 6:15 since I slept through my alarm (big surprise, right?) and we promptly left her house at 6:30, pulling into Sunfield 15 minutes later. I knew most of the morning routine since it’s the same as the evening chores, except backwards. We checked the ropes to make sure the driveway was fenced (it only has a single line running the sides) before herding two Dexter dairy cattle, Lucky and Auggie, into the barn for milking. Snapping the stantions shut after they automatically placed their heads inside, eager to munch on the organic Canadian grains we fed them every morning. Sarah took care of the sweet mothers while I sterilized the pails and prepared the iodine solution we use to clean their udders.

Lucky goes first, and I wiped her udders with a soft, iodine soaked, hot rag and began to milk clumsily after drying her udders. I leaned against her warm black coat, my cheek against her side listening to her four stomachs gurgle and grind, my head moving left and right with each of her deep breaths. She didn’t mind me milking her despite how awkwardly I was performing—at least until she ran out of grain. Then she tossed her horned head impatiently, though never violently. I can manage well enough with my right hand, but my left hand can’t seem to coordinate itself with the same rapid, consistent rhythm as Sarah who can finish the job in 20 minutes (for both cows). Unwilling to continue being such a klutz and driven by my unrelenting desire to be good at everything I do, I admit to the fact that I’ve been practicing the motion of forming a fist and rolling my fingers down my palm while keeping my pointer finger curled (so the milk doesn’t shoot back into the udder…you can actually feel it move up the udder if you loosen your grip). My hands are cramped and sore from doing it all day, but I’ll be damned if I don’t learn how to milk a cow in ten minutes by the end of next week!


Broccoli

Today, Wednesday, is a CSA day. For those who don’t know, a CSA stands for Community Supported Agriculture. Community members buy a share from the farm (it runs about 500 dollars for the season) and receive one box of farm goods each week. Sometimes you receive the same things three weeks in a row, but that’s part of the reality in farming—not everything is available all the time and when there is availability, there’s generally an abundance. The CSA allows the farmer to receive income early in the season unlike the usual routine of getting paid once a year (in the fall) and farmers can prepare for next year’s crops. Sunfield continues to grow each year both in the farm and the school, as well as the infrastructure to support its apprentices. The CSA is an important part of that growth.

Perhaps it doesn’t sound exciting to my reader, but I had a blast today. I harvested 25 pounds of spinach (it takes a lot of spinach to make 25 pounds), 25 bunches of cherry drop radishes, and a stack of leeks. Dressed in ridiculously large yellow rubber overalls, I crawled on my hands and knees, covered in mud with a harvesting knife in hand, selecting the greenest bunches of spinach from the neatly lined (but incredibly weedy) rows…weeds are such a battle, especially when you’re short-staffed and rely heavily on volunteers. Listening to the ravens cackle like wicked children, watching the occasional two-seater plane scoot overhead, and munching to my heart’s delight on Lambs Quarter (a common weed) and spinach (one for me…one for Sunfield Farm CSA members…), I filled two large Tupperware bins with the iron rich greens. I will mention though, lambs quarter has far more iron and other nutrients than spinach. It’s considered a pest, but tastes rather nice with lots of garlic and hot sauce (then again what doesn’t taste good when smothered in fresh garlic and hot sauce?!). I’m planning on stir frying some in butter for lunch tomorrow…and drinking milk too, of course. Over the course of a day and a half, I’ve already had 1 gallon of fresh, whole, raw milk. We filter it, label it, and refrigerate it. Then I drink it. This rocks. So far this is the sickest summer of my life. Who could disagree?

I met my boss, Willie, today. Healthy, strong, and highly energetic, one would hardly be able to argue his age, save his appropriately weathered appearance—he is a farmer after all! I sense he is capable of talking my ear off, especially about agriculture. My only hope is that I can retain at least 1/10 of what he teaches me as he’s already proven to be a valuable resource, rattling facts about applied agriculture off the top of his head as easily as if he were just telling us what he had for breakfast an hour earlier. Both a teacher and farmer at heart, I’m sure I’ll have many opportunities to learn from him as long as he doesn’t swamp himself too much with Sunfield’s endless chores and projects.