Posts Tagged reality check

When the season started, I anticipated having more garden space where I could grow small crops of small grains.  As the year progressed, though, it became obvious that — for many reasons — those plans would have to be scaled back drastically.

For example, the plans to put in another buckwheat patch fell through entirely as early rains turned the potential plot into mud, and it never got tilled in preparation.  And the wheat I had planted at another friend’s house last year fell victim to my laziness and neglect, not to mention the threat of vomitoxin that afflicted the state.

What I did manage to plant — millet, sorghum, flint corn, and oats — was quickly overrun with weeds, and since I was unable to spend much time on this new garden, I lost the first three crops and had very little to show for the fourth.

Oats in June, after some weeding

I did make an effort to clear out major weeds from around the rows of oats, hoping that this would help them thrive.  Mulch would have been an enormous help this summer, but that simply didn’t happen.

Where'd they go?

By the end of July, the oats I could find amidst the renewed throng of weeds proved to be ripe enough to harvest, so I spent time one morning clipping what oat stalks I could find.

A pretty puny yield

As  you can see, that wasn’t much.  Several areas were too overgrown with weeds to produce much, and those rows that had been weeded turned out to be very attractive to local wildlife.  (A number of stalks were chewed down, with no seed heads in sight.)

Oats to roll, eat, and enjoy

Still, I took those stalks home and hulled and winnowed the oats by hand, ending up with a small bowl of groats.  I don’t think the yield quite matched what was planted, and this won’t make a very big bowl of oatmeal, but at least I had a little something to show for my work.

Certainly there were many things I could have done better, had I been able to devote more time to my own gardens this year.  Would it be better to broadcast the oats instead of planting rows, in order to suppress weeds?  I don’t know, but I’m sure I can find some answers and ideas in Gene Logsdon’s Small-Scale Grain Raising as well as in Homegrown Whole Grains, another book I found this year.

Next year probably won’t be a year for growing grains, but I oat to be able to do better the next time around…

Throughout this year, I’ve fielded the occasional inquiry from friends: Do you miss your old job?

If you ask, Do you miss the steady and comfortable income of your old job? I have to say yes.  Who wouldn’t?  But miss the job itself?  The stressful work environment?  The petty bickering?  My answer is a vehement no (often with a colorful descriptor in front of the negative).

The potato says it all: I love my work

So why, then, do I love farming so much?

So many reasons come to mind.  For once in my life, I’m doing seriously physical work, out in the elements no matter what (save for thunderstorms).  And contrary to popular belief (at least among those who have known me for years), I actually find it richly rewarding.  I’m sore at the end of the day, of course, but for once in my life, I actually feel as if I’ve done a day’s work.

And the work is productive.  What could be more beneficial, more elemental, than growing the good, delicious, healthy, nutritious food that others eat?  That, in fact, I eat?  As I work, I learn techniques as well as an intuitive feel for how plants look, grow, and respond — lessons I can take to my own gardens and use for more impressive results.

I get paid reasonably well for a farming apprentice, and the benefits, while not including health insurance and the other fancy-pants perks of a desk job, are equally useful: produce “seconds” to keep me fed at home, the occasional surprise bonus of lacto-fermented garlic scapes or a hand tool (to name but two), a bottomless supply of iced tea in the brutally hot weather.

I’ve got a good boss, one I respect and who respects me.  He has kindly accommodated my occasional physical limits (especially after a recent fender-bender) but also knows when to challenge me to get in gear and do something new.  (Granted, the boss I had just before leaving the library shared these qualities — I’ve been fortunate all around.)

And I have the intangible joys of working outside on a sunny day; breathing in fresh air; picking fresh wild black raspberries; studying insects; inhaling the fragrances of tomato plants and freshly-dug root vegetables; and so very much more.

Personally, I think more people should be farming — finding out what it takes to grow the food we eat — as I think many of those people would find vast pleasure in the work, even with the pain.  This year so far has been a revelation to me, and I am so glad I made this leap.

Call me crazy if you will, but I really love farming.

A number of years ago, when my reading tendencies shifted toward the environmental, I started looking at ways to reduce my energy usage and to live more sustainably.  While the term sustainability has quickly become overused and oversimplified, to me it meant reducing the money and energy I throw at things and relying more on my own skills and renewable resources.

To that end, in November 2004, I gave up my car.  Literally and figuratively, I gave it up — to the Goodwill program that refurbished cars for people in need — and walked away.

The reactions I got tended toward a mix of “how do you get anywhere?” and “I wish I could do that!”  In a small town, getting anywhere proved to be fairly easy, and though walking everywhere meant planning my errands more mindfully and taking more time, it allowed me to root myself more deeply in the community and to open my eyes to the beauty I used to speed by.

It made an enormous and wonderful change in my life, one I recommended highly to anyone who would listen.  I found that I bought less junk food at the store (why would I want to lug it home if I didn’t need it?), spent less on stuff, and enjoyed the fresh air, exercise, and peace that walking by myself offered me.

When I decided to pursue farming as my work life, though, I realized that walking would not suffice for my transportation.  Even if I were to find a farmer close to town who would be willing to hire me for a decent wage, I would need wheels to get to work and home again.

First, I considered a recumbent tricycle.  Don’t laugh.  I’ve never had very good balance and never got beyond training wheels on a bicycle, so I didn’t see that as a real option.  I test-rode a recumbent trike and loved it, but I didn’t have a place to store it.

And realistically, once I knew where I would apprentice myself, I knew that a 30-mile one-way trip would be a little too much for my legs to handle on a trike, and I didn’t trust the local traffic on the country highways to keep me safe.

So that left me with the necessary evil of returning to the burden of an internal combustion vehicle.  I hated that thought.  Return to dependence on gasoline and the ever-rising cost of fuel?  Return to expensive insurance, regular costly maintenance, and the posture-cramping physical act of driving?  Hated it, hated it, hated it.

But what choice did I have?

Well, the only choice concerned what type of vehicle to choose, and unfortunately for my environmental karma, the necessity of having a vehicle strong enough to haul flats of produce to market along with table and tent meant that I would generally have to consider a low-mileage vehicle like a truck.

The more I considered my options, the more I felt inclined to find a pickup truck similar to the one my friend Keith drives: a small to mid-size truck with four-wheel drive and an extended cab.  On the many rides we’ve shared, I’ve felt comfortable in the truck — not overwhelmed by some behemoth of a gas-guzzler — so I felt confident that I would be able to handle a similar model myself.

I headed out shopping in early winter, accompanied by my patient and helpful father, and it wasn’t look before I found what I was looking for:

The official Mid-Life Crisis: a red "convertible"

It was used, but gently, with no rust save on the running boards, almost new tires, and a sturdy hard flat cap on the lined bed.  It had the four-wheel drive, it had the extended cab with extra doors, and it had a modest amount of mileage.  Best of all, it had a price that was only slightly above my initial price range, and I was able to pay for it in its entirety.

Other people (men, mostly, I suspect) get little red sports-car convertibles for their mid-life crises.  If you count that removable flat cap, you could say my truck is a “convertible” as well, and it makes the perfect photogenic image of a mid-life crisis for the particular change of pace I chose.

Now, I’ve never been a car girl.  I could theoretically understand why people obsessed over cars (speed, power, etc.) but never felt it myself.  And I certainly couldn’t get why so many guys would refer to their cars or trucks as feminine entities.

But with this truck, I get it.  It’s a 1950s screen siren of a truck, a vibrant come-hither lipstick red, with a bouncy high ride and a devil-may-care flair.  If I don’t watch myself, I might just call it “She” or “Her.”  Though it is a steady sort of truck, it gives the impression of being fast and tantalizingly dangerous.

And I like it.  Who would ever have guessed I’d be a sucker for — a pickup?

It’s a dilemma.  I try not to use it much around town, but even my inner greenie has had to bow to convenience and comfort in the past frigid weeks.  (At least now that the weather is improving, I’ll be more tempted to walk again.)  I wince at the thought of long trips in it.  But secretly, yes, I do want to climb up behind the wheel and take her down a quiet country road and let ‘er rip.

The truck gives me a reality check.  Yes, I want to live lightly on the earth and do what I can to reduce my energy usage, and this isn’t the obvious way to do it.  But to learn what I need to learn about farming, about growing enough food for myself and to make a living, it’s a necessary tool.

There’s no easy answer, so I do the best I can in finding an acceptable balance.  I suspect that will be an ongoing theme this year.