| July,
2005. It is truly a fruitful and prodigious
time of year in nature. Right now in our silty clay loam vegetable
gardens, the lavender Japanese eggplants, heirloom tomatoes,
green beans, and patty pan squash are flowering and maturing
into lovely young fruits! The bees are buzzing happily from
flower to flower, burying their faces in the squash flower
pollen. Just across the way, the farmers and interns at Gardens
of Eagan are picking cucumbers, kale, and cabbage, with melons,
sweet corn, tomatoes, and peppers all steadily reaching towards
maturation. From our field, Garden’s of Eagan’s
verdant green acres spread out before us and have been an
especially bright contrast to the dark, stormy skies passing
overhead these past few weeks.
In mid-June, one such thunderstorm popped my balloon of idealism
regarding farming, and any grand illusions I had about the
ease of our first season deflated into hard reality. We had
an incredible thunderstorm, complete with golfball-sized hail
and driving winds, that, as you can imagine, or maybe even
have experienced (God forbid!) really does a number on those
newly developing crops. At the time, I thought it was the
most devastating thing that could possibly happen to our fields,
as well as to my hopes and dreams. Our neighbors at Gardens
of Eagan, the Diffley’s, who have weathered their fair
share of storms, were hit just as badly as us, but on a much
larger scale, and yet they were the ones giving pep talks
and telling us we would look back and laugh at this. Of course,
ten days later, just as Atina Diffley predicted, things had
healed right nicely and we were even able to harvest and deliver
the majority of our lettuce and greens. Looking at our tomatoes
now, one would have no idea each plant had once-upon-a-time
been reduced to a stem stripped of all its glorious branches.
Amazing.
After the hail storm, the weeds and the work began. As always,
a million different jobs are waiting to be done in the back
of the mind, and I seem to only have time for maybe two or
three a day. But already we have learned so much! The mantra
on our lips is all about next year: Next year we will put
all of our rows on 36-inch centers; then we can cultivate
everything with a tractor, even our salad mix! Next year we
will plant straight rows—no hooks to right field. Next
year we will plant earlier, and we will plant more, more,
more! I think we are setting ourselves up again to have a
whole fistful of illusionary balloons, but we need to think
that someday, somehow we can figure out how to make completely
straight rows…and all the rest of it. Otherwise, it
would be too overwhelming, and we would never get out of bed
at 5 a.m. to harvest and sacrifice ourselves to the mosquitoes.
The major task we are dealing with at the moment is selecting
and planting the appropriate cover crop for parts of our unused
field. The hairy vetch winterkilled last fall, and so many
fields were left without vetch this spring and early summer.
A somewhat local source of organic seed is difficult to come
by, and also finding a cover crop that will actually grow
in the heat has proven hard. We seeded some winter rye this
spring, with some success, although we are battling pigweed
and lambs quarter in the patches. Eventually, we will probably
plant soybeans for their drought and heat tolerance.
We are also preparing for our organic certification inspection.
Our inspector will come in the next few days to inspect and
check our progress. I hope that inspection goes smoothly and
that we will be certified soon, especially because we have
begun to sell regularly to the co-ops and farmers' market!
The list of things going on here continues, but we do have
worthwhile moments. Tonight over dinner, I sweetly savored
the first red beets of the year (finally), thinking of the
fifteen families who may be eating these same beets they snatched
up at the farmer’s market today. After a chaotic spring
and a stressful day, these beets and the thought of others
eating them as well, actually makes me want to wake up tomorrow
and do it all over again. It is the simple act of growing
and eating healthy, fresh food that is the most basic and
satisfying motivation of all. 
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