Notes from the Farm
Today, it’s like scooching along in extra chocolaty, chunky brownie batter. About 375 feet of kale went in this afternoon, and my trooper of a 6-year-old didn’t complain once. (That isn’t always the case!) About 1,000 more feet of kale will go in the ground in the next few days.
Home now with a cup of tea, and Silas clicking away at his plastic blocks. These pants are hanging outside.
~ Stella
Hello, friends! Tonight there’s a Farm Talk & Tasting with Garrett Gleeson, of Fat Hawk Farm. The evening starts at 6 at the Green Shoppe in Meadville.
Tomatoes and cucumbers are climbers, and they can get out of hand fast, with vines sprawled across pathways and tangled, leading to spoiled and diseased fruit. We’re, ahem, speaking from experience here.
But when vining crops are given priority status on a farm’s to-do list, they can be bountiful and valuable.
A confession: we’ve struggled with trellising and pruning tomatoes. When dozens of things on the farm need our attention all at once, and the tomatoes need TLC, there hasn’t been enough L&C to go around.
So why are we entering this season thinking things will turn out any different? Well, for one, boundless optimism is a personality requirement for gardeners. But, in all seriousness, we’re just more ready. As our farming experience and knowledge accumulate, we solve old problems and make time for new priorities.
One such priority is a whole new technique in the high tunnels. It’s called the “lean and lower” system. Jason strung steel cables across the top of the Big Tunnel and one of the Cat tunnels. We dangled a Tomahook with a cord over every tomato plant, and we’ll attach the vines with trellis clips. When the cucumbers are in the Big Tunnel, they’ll each have a hook, as well.
Videos demonstrating the lean and lower system have us chomping at the bit to try it. As the vine grows, you give it more cord, and slide the Tomahook down the steel cable, freeing the plant to grow taller. It’s an intense production system, urging plants to reach their potential. A tomato vine loaded with fruit is heavy, around 20 to 25 pounds, if not more. We have about 60 plants in the Big Tunnel, so that’s potentially more than 1,000 pounds of weight. (The Big Tunnel is strong, and Jason added supports to the Cat tunnels, so the heft shouldn’t be an issue.)
We’re excited about this system, and approaching it ready for the required labor and time. We’ll post regular photos and updates of our vine plants this season, and you can see how it goes right along with us.
These are the Tomahooks. They hang off steel cables that stretch across the high tunnels. We’ll clip the tomato and cucumber plants to the cords with trellis clips. (P.S. See those small, bright green plants at my feet? Those are celery in the Big Tunnel.)
Jason and Silas hang the Tomahooks on one of the steel cables in the Big Tunnel.
~ Stella
P.S. For the outdoor tomatoes, which we’ll plant around Memorial Day weekend, we’ll still use the Florida Weave. For the weave, you use T-Posts and twine. The twine cinches the plants up, and more strands can be added as the plant grows. Side (but extremely important) note: our outdoor tomatoes, and, well, everything outdoors, is now safe from marauding deer, thanks to a 7 1/2-foot fence.
The mud goes squish and the grass goes squeak - thank heavens for good boots!
It’s been a rainy couple of days, but we’re harvesting from the high tunnels, so at least it’s dry when I’m picking. The CSA doesn’t start until June, but website orders and retail accounts need filled Monday through Wednesday.
We have a lot of plantings scheduled for the next few weeks, so Jason’s been working in the rain, too, spreading compost when he gets home from his day job.
The warmer weather and rain combined for an explosion of green and wildflowers. On a sunny day last weekend, it was nice to walk home from the farm and hear the breeze swishing the baby leaves. The patter of spring rain outside has been nice, too. Splish, splash, squish, swish - the tune of May.
Warm and dry in the Big Tunnel today, but cool and rainy outside.
We haven’t touched the northwestern corner of the farm yet this season. Beautiful wild mustard brightens the day.
We used the weekend’s good weather to put onions in. We planted three beds, and each bed has three rows, so about 1,125 feet of onions.
About a third of the onion plants started in our basement. The rest came from Dixondale Farms in Texas. This year’s planting is a mix of red and yellow onions. We’re also trying a blush that blends the two, producing a champagne peel and pink interior.
We started planting Saturday in the late afternoon, and finished up Sunday. To pass the time, we played the tall tale game, “Two Truths and a Lie.” To Jason and Silas’s amusement, I’ve repeatedly proven inept at this game. “No, wait! I just told three lies! Sorry!” “No, wait! Those are all true! Sorry again!”
So, let me try it in print. Find the lie. Is it A, B, or C?
A. It took us about 3 hours total to plant the onions.
B. My back is not sore today.
C. I wish we had more onions to plant!
While the three hours went quickly, and my back is surprisingly fine today, I’m definitely content with a thousand feet of onions.
The trays of onions started in the house. The onions in the gray bins came from Texas.
We'll let the onions grow to about twice their current height, then tuck them in straw. After that, we basically leave them alone, except to weed eat the pathways. We’ll harvest them in the fall.
Have a solid week, friends. When problems come your way, solve them as best you can, and enjoy all the moments in between.
~ Stella
It’s May 1, and we spent the morning in the Big Tunnel. We basically did a second wave of planting in this tunnel. The first wave has already been harvested and sold (radishes, salad turnips, Asian greens, and lettuce).
Here’s what’s in the beds, starting from the left:
1.) 2 rows of peppers (planted today)
2.) Lettuce we’re currently harvesting
3.) Baby lettuce
4.) Tomatoes (planted today) and Asian greens
5.) Baby lettuce
6.) Tomatoes (planted today), oregano, and parsley
7.) 2 rows of celery (planted today)
8.) Baby lettuce
~ Stella
The tomatoes and peppers in Caterpillar 2 all survived the cold. They spent the night under buckets, flower pots, and landscape fabric, but the Cat tunnel did its job: one tiny pepper was forgotten on the end of the row, no cover whatsoever, and it was just fine. Better to be safe than sorry.
~ Stella
The National Weather Service issued a freeze warning until 8 a.m. Saturday (today). Yesterday evening, every tomato in Caterpillar 2 got a bucket or flower pot. The peppers were tucked under landscape fabric for the night. Fingers crossed. While working, the farm had sun, heavy wind, hail, and rain. Pa. springs - sheesh! The wind took out our power last night. Always so grateful to the line workers who get everyone’s electric going again.
We’ll head up to the farm shortly to see how everything did. Beautiful weekend in the forecast. Plenty of sun, and 60 degrees today and 78 on Sunday.
~ Stella
The amendments to the farm’s soil are simple. In a year, the farm spends up to $1,500 for one dump truck load of mushroom compost.
While the myth persists that mushroom compost has too much salt and can harm plants, Pennsylvania State University research found otherwise. Researchers concluded that fresh mushroom compost:
improves soil structure;
provides plant nutrients;
increases plant nutrient availability;
increases soil microbial populations;
increases plant root structure;
increases soil aeration;
and reduces soil compaction.
In past years, we had to order the compost in the spring, when CSA memberships provided the money for it. This was a problem because the farm can be hard to reach that time of year, thanks to mud, and if you get the dump truck stuck, it’s $100 an hour until you get it unstuck. For this reason, we had the giant heap of compost dumped in our front yard, rather than up at the farm. No one liked this except Silas. We had to shift the compost up to the farm a little at a time (this was before we had a pickup).
The conclusion to this rather boring entry in the farm’s chronicle is that we set aside money last season to buy the compost early. So on a perfectly dry fall day we cheered the dump truck to victory as it charged up the path to the farm. Starting the season with compost at the ready has been helpful.
We spread compost by the bucketful, top-dressing the beds as we need them.
Mushroom compost is the only additive used in a significant quantity, but we also use a few bags of alfalfa pellets for Asian greens. Before we introduced the pellets, we had a problem with flea beetles chewing holes in the leaves. A few seasons ago, Jason decided to experiment with alfalfa pellets. For reasons we still don’t entirely understand, the pellets help. After becoming wet, the pellets kind of melt together and form a coat over the soil. Maybe this shields the plants from flea beetles? The pellets certainly help stop the weeds in these rows.
Here and there, we use a few other natural amendments, like a bucket of ash for tomatoes, or blood meal for garlic, but the most important addition is the mushroom compost.
His concerns about spiders and snakes are trumped by his devotion to endless digging.
Action shot.
~ Stella
Speaking of salt and soil … There are stories in history of people using salt to destroy an enemy’s crops. It’s unclear how many of these tales are truth or legend, but there is the case of the Távora affair in mid 18th-century Portugal. After an attempted assassination of King Joseph I, the accused Távora family was publicly tortured and executed, their palace destroyed, and their land salted. Thank me later if it comes up on Jeopardy.
The red shoulders of the farm’s first radishes of the season poked out of the soil last week. Scooching along to pull them, snap off yellow leaves, and bunch them, gave me time to contemplate this root veggie’s significance to the farm.
Jason had faith in radishes from the start. Several years ago, as he rolled the seeder down a row, leaving yet another 125-foot trail of radish seeds, he foretold that a bright red heap of radishes at our farmers market stand would be a draw in early spring, when most produce is green.
I did not embrace his radish prophecy early on. “Radishes, really?” was my response, not caring for them much at the time myself.
But sure enough, before the radishes were stacked on the market stand, over my shoulder I actually heard a woman say, “Ooooh radishes!” Radishes, really?
Every week, the radish heap disappeared in customers’ bags, and radish sales were nothing to sniff at. Jason was a radish seer.
Before packing the radishes for market, it seemed necessary at first to blast every bit of dirt from them. After some time, however, I became aware of (but could not explain) the positive power the sight and feel of dark, rich, healthy farm soil had on me, and wondered if it appealed to others. A little dirt, it turns out, doesn’t bother most people. Maybe there’s something comforting about the reminder of where a radish came from? While they still get a rinse, washing away every last remnant of the radish’s birthplace isn’t a worry anymore.
Young radishes are mild and sweet. They also have an unexpected silky texture. While radishes are associated with spiciness, they only turn “hot” when they’ve been left in the ground a long time. It isn’t a radish’s size that determines the heat, although a radish left in the ground longer will likely be bigger.
Over the years, my respect - and taste - for the humble radish has grown. They’re a quick, easy, and profitable crop. We grow mostly cherry belle and French breakfast, and they’re ready in under 25 days. They’re also an almost year-round crop. If we seed them at the right time in autumn, we’ll have radishes through winter. They’re also one of the first vegetables we direct seed in March. As for care, we keep the water on them and drag a hoe down the row at least once or twice.
Radishes also have a lot of what our bodies need, and maybe that’s why we’re drawn to them. They provide a good deal of potassium, vitamin C, folate, and fiber, according to the University of Illinois Extension. The extension is a wonderful source of radish information and recipes. And here’s how we recommend preparing radishes. It’s Joshua McFadden’s recipe for Roasted Radishes with Brown Butter, Chile, and Honey.
A radish makes a small ripping root sound when it pops from its underground dwelling. Seeing something so colorful spring from the black earth is a reminder of what wonderful things come from good soil.
Check out these unusual beauties. They’re listed under different names in catalogs, but we know them as Amethyst.
These are the two typical varieties we grow. The round ones are cherry belle. The more oblong radishes with white tips are French breakfast.
This is a beer radish. It’s a traditional German snack. It has a rough, black skin and white interior. They can grow to a large size and can be very spicy. They’re meant to be sliced thin and salted, and enjoyed with a chunk of bread and a mug of beer.
~ Stella
