Here’s a look at the Big Tunnel, July 3. Last week, we transitioned from almost entirely greens harvests, to picking peas and beans daily. Now, we’re on the verge of full-blown summer produce. It’s the time of year when our arms are constantly in motion from plant to bucket.
This shot doesn’t show it, but there’s a row of peppers along the wall, and we’re hoping to include them in the CSA next week.
Those are cucumber vines in the first row on the left. They’re just starting to produce. Silas cut some for the farmers market last week, and it felt good to set them on the table. We don’t hold back on what we charge for the earliest cukes of the season. Extra work went into having them early, and like everything on this farm, they’re zero spray.
I once overheard a comment at the farmers market that stayed with me. It came from a woman selling no-spray strawberries. When someone mumbled about the price, she said, “My knees told me how much to charge for these.” In other words, she’s paid the cost of weeding and harvesting those berries on her hands and knees. Now, she’s asking a fair price for her labor. I also remember her tone. It was said without a trace of meanness. It was simply a fact.
Her comment comes to mind when holding a half pint of red or black raspberries. They’re slow picking, and my final price decision is made after surveying the map of scratches up my arms and legs.
In our first few seasons, I experienced what many young farmers do: a complete disbelief that anyone will actually want to buy anything from us. Every item was priced with a big dose of trepidation. Like I was scared to sell my own produce! It was mostly me who suffered this complete lack of confidence. Jason was unsure at first, too, but he pushed us to go for a price that was fair to the farm and our family. There were times when I’d throw out a low number, an overly cautious amount, and he’d say, “Now, wait a minute.” And we’d talk about what went into that vegetable - that good, that product - in my hand.
All that said, let me say how grateful we are for all the people who understand what goes into a farm and choose to support local growers. If life came with merit badges, there’d be one for people who buy from local farms, and they could stick it right on their farmers market reusable tote bag.
Alright, let me get my stumpy little legs down from my soapbox. Back to the tunnel. We’re still looking at the photo above all this text. The strip of soil you see was previously lettuce under landscape fabric. The weedless earth beneath the fabric was a snap for Jason to work up with the wheel hoe and rake. He seeded carrots in that space.
The next row is tomatoes. Jason pruned them already, but they need it again. These are doing terrific. We’re so hopeful for a great tomato season!
It looks like he’s running away from a 10-pound vole here, but actually he’s using the wheel hoe.
Above, is the view from the other side of the tunnel. You can see the peppers now a little on the far left.
On the far right, is an empty row that I just cleared. This was lettuce without row cover. Since this photo was taken, Jay prepped the bed and seeded more carrots.
Next up, is a row of celery. The empty spaces between the celery supported Asian greens up until the other day. What a mess those ended up being. Asian greens grow super fast, and they tend to get away from you. I wanted to use them for last week’s CSA recipe, but they were too huge. I spent a hot, humid morning yanking them out and turning them into basically loose leaf Asian greens. Hardly an ideal situation. One of those farm tasks that makes you say, “Whew, glad that’s over.”
After the celery row, is a row of cherry tomatoes. These have just started to turn color. Our fingers are crossed for at least a few tomatoes for the shares next week. Jason just finished pruning and clipping those plants.
We have more tomatoes in one of the Cat tunnels. Those aren’t the kind that need pruning. The other night, I worked on clipping them to the string so Jay could do a little weed trimming in that tunnel. There were hundreds of garden spiders in their webs. They had me on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But after awhile, there were so many, I got used to them and forgot about them … kind of … It was another task joyfully complete.
~ Stella