So the farming year has come and gone. It has been a great year of learning, and requires some reflection.
My co-farmer let me in on the ground floor, “what hella harvest awaits!”, and we shot for the moon. 40x40 is tameable, and quantity is quality right? Huh ya? We’ll see...
The season started off with much excitement, and much promise. There was some (unfortunate) preparation, but still much hope in the spoils to come. When the plots were first revealed to us we thought "what could grow here, anything?". It was dry, hard, and desert like. Yet we sowed still, carving little grooves and tossing carelessly onions, carrots, beets and kales, life's seed in hopes of future edible bounties. Little did we know what life had in store for us.
The days went on, the weather stayed cold and dry, and nothing came. More planting with great help, peas, corns, collards, cabbage, and all my failed seedlings such as leeks, brussels, raab, zucchini more kale and who knows what else. Serious apparatus added for the peas, feeling confident if nothing grew at least that structure would still be standing in september.
And then came the tomatos, 36 strong (actually more!). Knowing i couldn't grow such an army myself they were recruited from Vicki's Veggies. The annual pilgrimage becoming much anticipated, a rite of passage into the growing year. Much loved wood fired pizza, preserves, amongst many other things acquired, and back to town to nurse the seedlings for a few weeks before they’re ready to stand on their own.
And stand they did. Strong and upright, no one would doubt their resolve. But once standing, it became clear they were stunted. It may have been a little like telling your university bound to simply grab a bus and have fun. No no, you drive them to campus. You baby them, you give them money, some words about not doing nothing you wouldn’t do, you linger too long, you embarrass, you stick, you influence. And then you let them be. But with much resolve.
These tomatoes barely had enough for bus fare, it was clear. The first ones came out fast, like the plant was in a rush, timid, and nervous. Luckily in the meantime the peas were nice, clear evidence care and teamwork resulted in fine offspring. And tomatoes continued to come, but the plants were short, and the yields low. Fauna preyed on their insides, little oversight to help defend them. Left to their own devices, reasonable yield was had, but from 36 strong less than half remained by season’s end, and they were sad, forlorn, and wishing for the end.
But lets not forget the peppers. Modest hot hot cayenne’s recruited from crappy tire (of all places!) at the advice of my co-farmer. These were great. Added to a few semi-hot green hots from Vickies, and i had a bounty of peppers. The sriracha i made was outstanding. A very hot and a mild based on nom nom’s sriracha, they were an outstanding hit. You can’t go wrong with very sweet hot, it just works.
With the tomato harvests i did get, i tried to share what i could, and eat the rest. You do what you can with what you have. A few simple marinaras (typically to lubricate balls), gazpachos, open faced tomato sammies, simply sliced with EVOO/salt/pepper, and a lot of tomato conserva. But no salsa, no bolognese, no soup or salad (ok maybe a few salads). But what i did have i really enjoyed. REALLY enjoyed. The food, and the learning.
The farm is still there, but it was torn down today. Pulled the few sad, stunted carrots that came up, the last couple tomatoes (that weren’t rotten), and cleaned all the apparatus and stakes that held it together over the past few months. There may still be a few brussels (a few survived) and collards left to pull, but for what its worth the season is over.
I should also mention i had a few plants at my house. But there it WAS a numbers game, due to the squirrels. Last year they didn’t have an impact, but this year they go pretty much all the ripening tomatoes right before their peak. I had no defence, and they took advantage. And rubbed it in my face!
So what have i learned? Well for starters, 40x40 is easy to fill, but its hard to fill it with love. Spread yourself too thin and everyone suffers. Some of my neighbours had smaller places, but SO much more bounty. The basic lesson here is to focus on what is in front of you and making it work, some things are not about number of at bats.
I also learned a lot of specifics. My apparatus for peas, pretty damn effective. But picking peas is another skill. You gotta be fast, as they have little patience. My hoeing strategy? Abysmal. Gotta hoe every two days in the heavy period. And then after, keep going. To hoe is to love. And watering? Well, plants need water. I don’t think my watering strategy was too bad, but my blanketing strategy needed work. The more hay/mulch, the less need for water, my co-farmer taught me this. I learned my car loves driving in mud, and i like how it looks all muddy. I learned you gotta love your soil, and it’ll love you back, and its a full spectrum. You can put your bet anywhere within, but gauge your expectations accordingly.
Next year i’ll likely stay close to home, and depending on the spring may go big. Or i may not. I guess i’ll have to see where my head is at. If i learned anything this year i probably should just focus on a small, concentrated effort. If i could unequivocally defend just one tomato plant from squirrels and the like for a whole season, that would be an accomplishment that i would be very satisfied with. Concentrating efforts can have a lasting impact, and doesn’t dilute the message.