Perseverance

I am privileged to have been able to travel with Tammy to some interesting places and I am still able to revisit some of those places with the pictures we took while we were there.  Some of the photos that mean the most to me rotate as the background images on my computer.  There are sunset pictures, flower pictures, and other neat images of the farm as well as photos of waterfalls, waves and trees.

Tree at Holman Vista in Oregon

This image was the first one selected by my computer on the morning that I wrote this blog post.  I don't know if it is a particularly good photograph based on artistic criteria, but I like it - and that's really all that matters.  It is my computer, after all.

When I see this photo I can feel myself being transported back to the moment I hit the button to preserve the image I was seeing.  The temperature was 47 degrees Fahrenheit. Tammy and I now refer to that temperature as "Oregon" since that was roughly what it was during most of our outdoor exploits while we were there.  It was cloudy most of the time with the threat of impending rain (unless it was actively raining).  

There was a strong wind at Holman Vista, where this tree was living its life.  The wind off of the Pacific was a regular occurrence and most of the older trees had shapes similar to this one - with the branches and limbs growing away from that wind.  The conditions that this tree existed in discouraged tree growth that went into the wind and it was obvious that many branches on the west-facing side had been pruned over time.  

Yet, this tree continued to live, grow - and maybe even thrive - in a difficult situation.  Clearly, this is not the shape it would have had if its life were less difficult. But, this is the shape of success.  For this tree.  In this place.

If this tree hadn't been shaped the way it was, I doubt I would have decided to take this particular photograph.  I find the tree and this image to be attractive, yet somehow bittersweet.  It is reassuring and disconcerting at the same time.  This tree encourages me and discourages me.  It teaches me the values of perseverance in the face of adversity. 

And it reminds me that we are each who we are, in part because we have persevered through the challenges our own lives have brought us.

Clueless No More - 3 Years Later

It's Thursday, the day on the blog when I often look for a "Throwback" post.  Sometimes, I pick a blog from years ago that can just be re-offered with minimal changes.  Most of the time, I make some moderately important changes, if only to make the post more current.  Then, there are times like this - where I find a blog and it provides an interesting perspective and I add to it.

This one comes from October 2, 2019 - yet another year where we were dealing with too much rain, especially in the Fall.  I found this ironic because... well.  We announced we were done with the CSA after that Fall and we started to scale down at the Genuine Faux Farm.  Since then, we've had three seasons that would have been pretty close to ideal growing seasons for us if we had continued.

Don't get me wrong.  There were still issues, like late frosts in the Spring (2021) and strong storms (also 2021).  Ok... maybe 2021 would not have been an ideal growing season.  So, never mind.

Still, let's transport everyone back to October of 2019 for a bit.  The ash trees had leafed out for their last season, but you could see the Emerald Ash Borers were taking their toll.  The frame of the barn was still standing (that would be taken care of in 2021).  And.. things were wet.

Look!  Really!  It was wet out there.

We know most of you don't get it.  But, we still love you anyway.  And for those that do get it.  We love you too.

I've had a couple of conversations recently with other growers so I could actually talk with someone who really understood what I mean by "it's really wet out there."  It's certainly not your fault if you don't quite understand what I mean.  But, perhaps it IS my fault for not helping you to understand what we mean when we tell you it is really wet and it has gotten difficult for us to do the things we need to do as farmers.

Let me tell you what it means when we say it is REALLY WET on the farm.

1. It Means You Can't Use Most of Your Tools Effectively
What you see in the picture below is one of the paths we maintain so we can drive our tractor, or the lawn tractor, or pull carts to and from various parts of our farm. 

We actually maintain clover/grass paths so we have a place that isn't muddy to travel after some rain.  But, what happens when things are so wet you can't drive on those paths?

Well, you can try to drive on them.  And, there are times that you have to.  Until you get stuck.  Thus far, we haven't pushed our luck too much this year.  But, still, it does mean that I have the option of hoping not to get stuck OR I walk out with a couple of harvest crates.  Fill them.  Then walk back with full harvest crates.  Repeat.  Until you are out of time.

And - as a sidenote from 2022, these paths did not stay this nice.  We DID have to drive and walk on them.  That means, things got increasingly muddy - and hazardous.  I finally got a hole filled this year that was created in 2019 in this area as we tracked back and forth.

But, don't worry so much about how much time it takes to harvest.  Why?

2. It Means You Lose Significant Parts of Your Harvest

Well, because your harvest is melting away in front of your eyes, that's why!  If you'll recall, we couldn't plant on time and we were running four weeks or more late on much of our planting (because it was cold and wet).  The field tomatoes, for example, were just getting into peak.  But, too much water and you lose the plants, fruit and all.

Sure, you can try to pull the green tomatoes out ahead of the rains.. or during the rains... or...  But, it's not easy pulling in tomatoes when it is this muddy.

With the old weather patterns that typically resulted in drier Fall months, you could expect that you wouldn't have to fight fungus problems with your cauliflower.  Well, never mind.  These heads can look great one day and not so good the next.  Not helping, Mother Nature!

Here, this picture is actually kinda pretty.

So, here I am in 2022, looking at these pictures - and I remind myself once again of some of the reasons we decided we needed to change what we were doing.  This pattern of too wet had held true for far too many of our years since we started in 2004.  It's just ironic that we would see much less of this problem once we took ourselves "out of the game."  And, no, it's not because we don't notice it anymore.  We're still involved in growing things enough to be fully aware of what is going on with the weather.

It's enough to make one think Mother Nature is having a good chuckle at our expense.

3. Chores Become... well... More of a Chore

We pasture raise our poultry because we think this is a better way to maintain the health of the birds and the health of the flock.  Unless it gets really wet out there.  Then, well, it's still better for them as long as they have some shelter to go to if they wish it.

But, it still makes the effort of raising poultry and working with them that much more difficult.    The picture above is actually before today's rain.  It's much wetter out there now.  And, the more the birds travel on the pasture, the muddier and more beat up the pasture becomes.  And, the indoor areas?  Well, they go out, they bring mud and wet back with them.  So, we need to clean up the rooms a bit more often.  And the eggs.... we clean them anyway, but it takes more time to clean them when it is wet and muddy outside.

We have to fight to find 'higher ground' to put feeders and... ironically enough.. waterers.  We have to dump the slurry of wet feed and rainwater out of feeders that collected rain and try to find ways to get birds their food where it is drier.  We have to wear our muck boots and try not to slip and visit the surface of the ground... er... the surface of the puddles, in a rapid and undesired way.  And the longer it goes, the uglier it gets.

We find ourselves walking differently to handle the conditions and then we wonder why feet are sorer than usual or back muscles or other muscles are cramping up.  And.. the chores take us three times longer to complete than they usually do.  We find ourselves having to make adjustments and changes to our systems on a daily basis simply to handle the fact that it is REALLY wet out there.

4. You Get Shorter Windows to Do Your Work

This one may be obvious.  If it is too wet to do work four days out of seven, then you have three days, instead of seven to get your week's worth of work done.  That's ok, because we know that is going to happen sometimes when you farm.  But, when it happens over and over and OVER again?  Oy.

4.5 It Means You Need to Walk Around

Oh.  Heck with that.  I'm walking through.

5. Farmers Struggle to Keep Moving

Sep 1 to Oct 1 rainfall in 2019, we're in the 10-15" range

Some farms may not struggle with the wet as much as we do.  Our farm has heavier soil and it is quite flat.  In other words, it takes less to make us struggle a bit with too much rain.  So, we do things to attempt to address the situation.  But, when you do what you can and it still isn't enough, it gets pretty difficult to keep at it.

We'll certainly do our best because that's what we should do.  But, we're not going to be sad to see this season end.

Because it's really wet out here. 

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So, here we are, at the end of September in 2022.  I found myself grumping a little about the dew on the grass getting my feet damp the other day.  After seeing this, I'm going to revise that grump significantly.  It has not been so long that I can't easily remember EXACTLY how difficult things have been during those times when it WAS really, really wet out there.

It also cured me of any thought that the Genuine Faux Farm might try to resurrect itself to its former glory.  I see Mother Nature peering around the corner of the building - just waiting for us to do that very thing.  And, if we did - you KNOW what's going to happen.

Instead of resurrecting the farm to its former self, we'll be content with continuing to evolve and change the farm into its new self.  I think we can live with that.  And maybe Mother Nature will stay behind the corner... waiting for us to forget the past.

Considering the Return of the VAP

I admit that I am both a list person and NOT a list person at the same time.  Tammy might initially laugh at this statement - until she thinks about it a bit.  I'm the kind of person that starts to bog down if I am carrying too much of a list in my head.  So, I find a "big idea" list session to be a way to do two things.

1. get stuff OUT of my head so I have space to work

and, 2. rapidly become dismayed by how much isn't getting done - which fills my head-space right back up.

The hope is that it is a little less full than it was before I started.  The alternative is to keep growing my hair out longer to make more room for my brain.

When we had more workers on the farm, a daily list or plan was important and we would often put it on the "Chalk Door."  I would also create a daily VAP (Very Ambitious Plan) on a designated note pad so I could prioritize what was going to happen each day.  It was a big enough deal that I actually have multiple VAP related blogs!  This would also serve as a good way to do some record keeping.  A simple check mark next to an item made it clear that the task was done on that day.  And, I could use the margins for other notes if I needed to.

A daily list is completely different from a "big ideas" list because you have to try to keep that list to what could OPTIMISTICALLY be done.  And, when I had more people to manage, that might include alternative items if weather or some other factor prevented us from doing some of the planned activities.  So, in practice, there were always things left over that did not get done.  I don't think I ever completed a VAP over many years creating them.

I will admit that a VAP was quite useful, and it was often motivating.  However, it took time and energy to make them.  That meant, when the workers left for school or jobs in the Fall, I typically would fall off of the VAP-making wagon, so to speak.

I wonder if a VAP wagon would look like this?

Anyway, the difficult thing about VAPs is that I need to find time at the beginning and/or end of the day to make them.  The beginning of the day can be difficult because there are daily things you just want to get done.  Things like... waking up.  Feeding the birds.  Walking through the shower.  Going back because you forgot to rinse off.  You know.  The important stuff.

The end of the day is an energy issue.  I survived the day that was.... am I sure I want to spend time before I try to go to sleep thinking about all of the things I should do tomorrow?

Sadly, the answer is typically "no."  But, the production of daily VAPs (or maybe a two-day VAP as a compromise) might be the solution I need to unbury from the long mental list of responsibilities and tasks that I need to do.  

Yep.  Solve the problem by adding "make VAP" to the list.  It's just one more thing.  Why not?

Have a great day everyone!  And good look with your own, personal, VAP.

Land stewards are strong, still need support

The following was originally published in Pesticide Action Network's Ground Truth blog on September 9, 2022.

Many people like to glorify the efforts of small-scale, diversified producers of quality food.  They like to point to the willingness of these growers to work with, rather than against, nature.  Some, myself included, believe that this sort of farming, using many of the principles of agroecology, is a key component for building a healthier, more just world.  

But, let me tell you a secret — this kind of farming isn’t simple and it isn’t easy.  There are times when even the most dedicated individual will question themselves and their vocation.

There are stewards in this world

A recent conversation with a respected colleague reminded me of the strength of those who work with the land and the continuous struggle they must face to steward their small-scale, diversified farms. 

People who try to raise food in this way are a rare breed that work incredibly hard to put their ideals into action.  They also do this difficult work so they can earn a reasonable living.  But, they stick with their operations because they love and believe in what they do.

The work requires a broad range of skills, with tasks ranging from marketing and story-telling in the effort to sell product, to horticulture (cultivating plants), entomology (studying insects), and small-engine repair.  There are many points each season when the job is all-encompassing.  The rare moments in time when a grower feels as if they are "caught up" don't last more than a couple of minutes.  One blink and the farm once again can feel like it is on the brink of disaster.

And that's how the best of us feel much of the time on our farms. The burden that stewards of the land feel is heavy. And you wouldn't know it by looking at us ​​— unless you are also one of us.

Yet, despite the weight of the tasks in front of them, there are even more people who are called to be stewards of the land who are not given the opportunity to do so.  There could be so many more of us if they were given the chance to join.  But access to land, start-up capital, and systemic barriers often stand in the way.

A thousand cuts inflicted each season

In my opinion, there is probably no worse time to be a diversified produce and poultry farm in Iowa than mid-May to mid-June, when herbicides are liberally applied, though we also struggle through the pesticide spraying season in late July and early August.  The excessive use of pesticides put our crops at risk, make us concerned our health and for our workers' health, and raise worries about food safety.

I realize most people are enamored with the beauty of spring and the promise of a summer of fun.  After almost two decades of doing this sort of farming, I don’t see it this way.  I see this part of the season as the time where I feel like I am dying a death inflicted by a thousand cuts.

I guess the saying implies that they are "tiny" cuts — but I can tell you they come in all shapes and sizes.  I looked at my daily farm notes for one week in early June from a few years back and I noticed the following events occurred in this short period of time:

• a windstorm flattened some of our lettuce and peppers.
• a woodchuck ate 15 trays of broccoli and cauliflower plants due to be planted that week.
• another storm dropped four inches of rain on already saturated soil, making it impossible to do any field work.
• the gnats were so bad that we had to cover ourselves completely, even in temperatures in the high 80s to low 90s.
• we discovered that the raccoons were teaching their young to pick off members of our hen flock by creeping through a hole in the fence.
• someone missed watering four trays of squash transplants and they did not recover
• we did not notice a leak in the irrigation inside a high tunnel until a small pond had developed on one end
• a key tractor implement broke while we were trying to complete work before it rained

I think that's enough for you to get the point.

My colleague and friend shared their frustrations regarding the crops they were working so hard to nurture.  

"I must be stupid or a complete failure.  I've been doing this long enough, you would think I could find a way to deal with these problems."

For a second, my heart broke — even if it didn't look like it.  I heard what this person was saying, and I recognized words I had spoken to myself.  And I can tell you that I have often taken these failures (big and small) to heart because it was so very important to me to fulfill my obligations to our customers, to the land, to those who work at the farm, and to all of the other folks who try to grow as we do.  All of that responsibility just makes each little cut bleed a little bit more.

A thousand cuts.  A thousand tiny cuts will make the most dedicated, intelligent, skilled, and capable person wonder — "Why am I still trying to do this?"

We can all benefit from support

This is why I keep pushing the idea that we need to do better at supporting farms and growers who follow the principles of agroecology.

If we like the idea of working with, rather than against nature.  If we prefer to have more and diverse people on the land, working on a smaller-scale that is responsive to the needs of the community.  If we see value in food that is grown locally or regionally.  If we want food that is raised with fewer chemicals and we want growers who hold on to the highest ethics when it comes to treating workers well, being stewards for the land, and being caretakers for a healthier future.

If we want all of this…

Then we've got to stop adding our own small slices to the ten thousand cuts these people suffer so frequently as they try to do the work that they love.  On the land that they care for.  For the good people they so willingly serve.

 

Now, I'm going to share another secret.

Stewards are already quite resilient

Our farm survived that "week of horrors" that illustrated all of the things that can go wrong on a farm like ours.  My friend was also able to move forward and will, once again, look back on a reasonably successful season at the end of the year.  Stewards of the land often need the full season to get the perspective necessary to get a clearer view.  

After all, we DID sign up for those kinds of problems when we took on the job of running our respective farms. Yes, it does get annoying when we lose a crop to rabbits (or some other critter) AGAIN.  And, yes, we wonder how we could let it happen once more.  Surely we must be too dumb to figure it out.  

This is normal frustration speaking.  We're human and this is how it feels during that moment.  

We also know that our farms are much more complex than "guard against rabbits" and sometimes the most successful strategies for that particular task are not practical for the moment in time that we are in.  

Until the rabbits make us pay too much and we adjust.

The real issues are the additional injuries that could be prevented if our local, regional, national and global communities were willing to provide remedy.

We need to stop supporting corporate farming and chemical-based agriculture.  If there were more of us out there doing this small-scale/diverse farming thing, we'd have that much more support to get through the rough times.  And, we need to remove the possibility of chemical trespass from the list of things that can go wrong on our farms.  

We need to be sure those who work on these small farms have appropriate health care and appropriate resources, such as capital for necessary tools and clean water and quality land.  We need to adopt size-appropriate regulations that don't define "small business" as anyone under $40 million in sales.

And we need to put these small-scale, diversified producers back in the front of the line when it comes to supplying people with the foods that they eat.

Clear moon frost soon

Well folks, I didn't think we'd get a frost this time around, but as we get closer to Tuesday night I think I have to conclude that we are in for a frost at the Genuine Faux Farm.  And, just as a reminder to all of you - things are typically a couple degrees cooler here than they are in town -  so it looks very much like we could get a killing frost at this point.

At our farm, since we started in 2004, most of our first frosts have come during the week of a full moon.  So, I have taken to looking at when those dates are at the beginning of a growing season.  Now, I fully recognize that the idea of a first frost being determined by a full moon is not fully supported for several reasons.  The first of which, of course, is that we all live in different locations where the first frost will be earlier or later depending on a whole host of factors that have NOTHING to do with the moon.

But, when you live somewhere for a while and you pay attention to the weather like we do on our farm, you tend to notice patterns like....  we have more frosts or near misses during the weeks of the full moon in the fall months.  Or, at least we have since we started growing here.  So, it would be foolish to ignore a pattern once it is observed.

Well, this year, it looks like the "No Moon" phase just might get the frost.  

But, what does the old saying "clear moon frost soon" tell us?  Does it imply that the full moon will indicate a frost is coming for everyone who happens to see it during the Fall?  

Well, let me put it this way.  If we are in the full moon phase but you don't see the moon, it is unlikely that you'll get frost.  Why?  Because it is the clear nights that tend to bring us our early frosts in the Fall and late frosts in the Spring.  If you can see the moon, there aren't clouds providing some insulation and keeping the heat closer the surface of the Earth.

Anyway, I am grateful that we will not need to be doing much preparation this year for the frost because this looks like it will be the sort of frost that is REALLY ANNOYING for a grower of produce.  You see, the forecast is calling for a breezy AND sunny day on Tuesday.  If we were desperate to cover many row feet of sensitive crops, we would find ourselves waiting until the sun goes down and the wind begins to subside.  Then, and only then, could we put our covers on our crops - using headlights and other sources to be able to see what we're doing.

This might sound like a fun or interesting task to some of you.  But, after you've done it enough years, the luster does seem to come off of it.

This time around, we're settling for getting crops harvested and under cover prior to Tuesday night.  The squash are ready and any other sensitive crops we might want to keep going are in the high tunnel.  We just hope we don't go from hard frost to freeze.  It's happened - and could happen this time.

Perhaps a better indicator for a frost than the full moon is the NOAA Weather Service prediction patterns.  This time of year, if you see a forecast low of 40 degrees for a night that is seven to ten days out AND it is forecast to be clear - put it on your watch list.  Once you get to six days out, that forecast low will start to crash.  

First, they'll suggest 38 or 39 for the low.  Then it will go to 36.  Then 34 (which was Sunday night's status).  Often, they'll avoid predicting the "bad news" of a frost until we're 24 to 36 hours away.

Hey, guess what, they just mentioned possible patchy frost!  They're early this time around.

Planting A Seed - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to Postal History Sunday, featured weekly on the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you take this link, you can view every edition of Postal History Sunday, starting with this one (the most recent always shows up at the top).

This week, you're all going to get a peek at another side of my life.  A place where pieces of postal history connect with our small-scale, diversified farm (the Genuine Faux Farm).  This time around, Postal History Sunday will focus more on the illustrations on the covers, than we will the postal markings.

It was not that long ago, in the grand scheme of things, that multiple seed houses could be found in every state in the US.  Most seed houses had their own breeding programs and might tout some of their best varieties in their advertising.  

Wide Range of Breeding Programs

The Faxon Squash is listed in the Biodiversity Heritage Library as being introduced in 1894.  And here we have an advertising cover mailed in December of 1893 featuring that squash.  This item was mailed from Saugus, Massachusetts - the home of M.B. Faxon Company to a Miss Marion Faxon, who must have traveled to Aiken, South Carolina for an unknown (to us) reason.  While this was probably a use of an advertising cover between members of family, we can still be grateful that they were willing to use (and then keep) these envelopes so we can see what they look like today.

Shown above is a page from their 1894 catalogue that is made available by the Biodiversity Heritage Library.  The catalogue itself certainly features some of the varieties they specialized in, but they also offered seeds from other companies, such as Burpee.  This was a pretty common practice.  A seed company would focus on producing particular seed varieties (which this company referred to as "Faxon's specialties) and they might also work on breeding programs.  To provide a broader seed offering to their customers, seed companies like this one would often would rely on other seed producers.

If you read the text for the catalogue introduction of the Faxon Squash (shown below), this was apparently their first success at developing their own squash variety that they felt was worth marketing.

The M.B. Faxon Company had a fairly widespread distribution of their catalogs in the late 1800s - so we should not make the assumption that a this seed house only sold locally.  However, the sheer number of seed houses throughout the world meant there were many more locations and organizations seeking to select for varieties that did well under regional growing conditions.  From our own experience, we can provide you with anecdotes where a variety that went by the same name from one seed house did poorly at our farm while that same variety from another seed house did well.  In fact, we often find that seed produced in our own region (if we can find it) is better adapted to our farm.

Perhaps a short side-bar would be of interest right now?  If a seed producer desires to grow seed of a known variety, they will plant a crop with that seed and go through a process called selection as that crop progresses.  Any plant that does not look "true to type" is removed, as are weaker plants.  The idea is to select seed from those plants that are the strongest and exhibit the best qualities of the vegetable variety being grown.  Faxon was selecting seed for their "specialty varieties."

The Faxon Squash was a different matter.  This seed company was developing a hybrid by carefully cross-pollinating existing squash varieties.  This process can be a major undertaking because the pollination process is often done by hand - and multiple trials usually have to occur at the same time to see which results in the kind of fruit/plant that is desired.  Then, you have to hope that the seeds from these crosses would come back true to type, thus creating a new variety of squash.

The very nature of growing to produce seed implies careful attention to how the plants grow and how hybrid crosses pan out as they are developed.  Can you imagine how many different breeding and selection projects were running concurrently in the United States with multiple seed houses in most states?

As far as I have been able to tell, the M.B. Faxon company seems to have stopped publishing catalogues in the early 1900s and I am not sure if any strains of the "Faxon Squash" might survive today.  On the other hand, I CAN show you that we do grow several varieties on our farm that have a long history.  They are often referred to as heirloom and heritage seed.  Shown above is the Thelma Sanders Sweet Potato squash, which is a type of acorn squash. 

A.H.Ansley and Sons Hits the 'Big-time'

Shown above is another illustrated envelope with two cents of postage paying the internal letter mail rate in 1893.  This item was sent to the Perkins Wind Mill Company in Mishawaka, Indiana, by the seed company in Milo Centre, New York.  A pencil notation on the side reads, "I want a mill with graphite bearings." This would seem to indicate that this was not an offer to sell seed, but rather a request to purchase equipment.

As mentioned earlier, there were many more seed houses and they came in all sorts of sizes with many kinds of specialty crops.  Some of the smaller, more local seed producers, such as A.H. Ansley and Sons might concentrate on developing and growing out particular crops for seed.  Every so often, these companies might hit on a winner.

The smaller, local producers wouldn't necessarily have the publicity to push a particular strain, but there were certainly larger concerns, such as W. Atlee Burpee & Co that might be willing to purchase the rights to introduce it to the public at large.  Some things may be no different then that they are now, as I suspect Burpee introduced the "Perfection Wax" without giving any direct praise to Ansley.

There is evidence, however, that Ansley & Son was still in business in 1900 and they were still focusing on wax and pole beans.  The following was in the US Department of Agriculture - Division of Entomology, Bulletin No. 33 prepared F. H. Chittendon and published in 1902.

June 18, 1900, we again received specimens of beetles... with report that 
they were injurious to several acres of white pole beans at Milo Center, 
N. Y. Our correspondent, Mr. A. H. Ansley, stated that nearly one- 
fourth of the plants above ground at the time of writing were riddled 
by the insects. Attack was first noticed June 16. when only an occa- 
sional plant was being eaten, but at the date of writing many more 
of the beetles were seen, and the first plants infested were dried and 
crisp except a young center leaf just budding out. Sweet corn and 
other plants in the vicinity appeared to be exempt from attack.

The report above was in reference to the Smartweed Flea Beetle.  It's just a reminder that pests, weeds and diseases are not a new thing and it is also a reminder that nature tends to have its way with monocrop (single crop type) systems.

The Myth of Perfect Veggies Has Long Tradition

Here is an 1898 envelope featuring carrots offered by the Lohrman Seed Company in Detroit, Michigan.  You might want to note that Lohrman touts themselves as "Seed Growers and Merchants," making it clear that they both grow out seed and sell that seed to the public.  Not all seed producers created catalogs with the intent of selling to the public.  Some might, perhaps, simply grow out plants to produce seed under contract for other companies who would then sell the seed.

It is true that a grower of produce wishes that a significant portion of the crop looks like the perfect picture that is always shown in the catalog (or in this case, the perfect carrots on the envelope).  But, perfect looks have never guaranteed satisfactory taste.  Nonetheless, it is clear that consumers have always had a problem accepting that a tasty carrot just might not have that perfect wedge shape.

Lohrman's 1922 catalogue features a carrot type (Chantenay) that might well have been the model for the advertising design on our envelope.  The introduction to that catalog touts their forty years of experience, which clearly confirms their existence at the time this letter was mailed.

The letter was mailed to Cuddy-Falls Company in Amherstburg, Ontario (Canada).  According to the 1899 Essex County Business Directory, Cuddy-Falls were bankers.  Maybe the bankers wanted to grow some carrots? Perhaps they wanted to invest in their own health and well-being.

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We came in Saturday evening after completing our farm chores and reflected on the squash harvest (butternut in this case) we had just pulled in earlier in the day.  My mind was on the farm and on growing produce, so it should not be a surprise that I should fall back on this topic when faced with the reality that Sunday was only a few hours away.

I hope you enjoyed today's installment of Postal History Sunday.  Have a good remainder of your day and a fine week to come!

Thelma Sanders Sweet Potato Squash - Variety Show

We featured Orangeglo watermelon a few weeks ago and received some positive feedback.  And, you know how that goes.  Give the farmer a little positive energy and he suddenly wants to do something to show that it is a good thing

Thelma Sanders Sweet Potato squash

During our first few years at the Genuine Faux Farm, longer season squash were difficult to grow primarily because of the insect pressure.  But, we stuck with our plans for developing a more balanced habitat (among other things) and now we are reasonably successful with our squash crops.  Some of the easier squash to grow are in the family C. pepo, which include zucchini, summer squash and acorn squash.  Shorter season crops reduce the odds that they will be exposed to hazards, such as pests, disease and weather, and the members of this family mature earlier than those in C.moschata (butternut for example) or C.maxima (buttercup are an example of these).

In general, acorn squash can be very productive, producing many one to two pound fruits.  The most popular acorn squashes look like the traditional variety Table Queen, which was apparently introduced by the Iowa Seed Company in 1913.  You can see some Table Queens at the bottom left of this picture from our farm in 2006 or 2007.

Now, I have to admit that I tend to prefer the taste and texture of buttercup and butternut type squashes.  So, I can be a bit more picky about the taste of an acorn squash.  Well, it turned out that Thelma Sanders Sweet Potato has a less grainy texture and a better taste than Table Queen and all of the hybrids that have followed it.  So, if we're going to grow acorn squash, Thelma has won every trial at our farm.

Thelma is an heirloom variety that was shared with Seed Savers and they have consistently offered the seed.  Their full description can be found here, but I give some of the highlights below:

(C. pepo)  Originally from Thelma Sanders of Kirksville, Missouri. Wonderful cream-colored acorn squash. Sweet chestnut flavor, enormously productive. Thelma described this good keeper as ‘better than sweet potatoes.’ 85-90 days.

While I don't pretend that these squash are "better than" sweet potatoes - because sweet potatoes are sweet potatoes - I will state that Thelma Sanders squash are the best tasting acorn type squash I have had and they grow very well at the Genuine Faux Farm.  With our cultivation practices and soils, Thelma has outperformed each green acorn squash we have tried.  These plants seem to handle a wider range of seasonal conditions, produce more fruit per row foot and have a larger average fruit size.

We typically get two marketable fruit per row foot for a poor to average growing year and might get more during an excellent year.  But, the real difference between a poor and excellent year is typically fruit size.  This past year was a bit dry and we did not irrigate, so the fruit averaged 1.8 pounds. We have had really good years where fruit size is closer to 2.3 pounds on average, which is quite large for acorn squash.

The best way to make sure you can fail with Thelma Sanders is to let the weeds near the root zone out-compete the vines.  Don't get me wrong.  These plants are tough enough that you don't have to have a perfect, weed-free environment.  But, if you let grasses, in particular, get a foothold near the roots of Thelma Sanders' vines, then you won't get much for squash.

The other way to fail?  Have so much rain that the plants are in standing water for days on end.  Yup - they aren't a good pond plant, I guess.

Otherwise, Thelma Sanders works well with bare soil or mulched ground.  Their vines are moderate in length.  So, unlike some vines that can really wander, Thelma Sanders tends to stay (mostly) in the area you provide them.  A good hedge of zinnias or borage will definitely head them off and keep them in their appointed space.  We even had a row of calendula hold the line one year - though that was a near thing.

Thelmas ready to harvest in 2022

Here is, perhaps, the best endorsement I can give this particular variety.  We were asked if we would be willing to grow acorn squash in 2022 as part of our limited repertoire.  We only said "yes" on the condition that they would allow us to grow THIS variety.  We were aware that the prospective customer might not accept this because most people believe acorn squash MUST have dark green skin.  Once we got past that hurdle, we entered the season with high confidence that we could produce what was needed using Thelma Sanders Sweet Potato squash.

Are there any disadvantages to this particular variety?  

One that comes to mind is that lighter skin shows blemishes far more readily than the dark black/green skin of other acorn squash.  So, if appearance is a key factor for marketing, that could play against it.  Also, the range of sizes and shapes might be a bit inconsistent if you compare it to some of the modern acorn squash hybrids that concern themselves with uniformity.  Also, if you are concerned that the stems stay on the squash, you will find that they tend to pop off of these fruit pretty easily at harvest time.  I actually find that to be a plus for processing, but it may provide an opportunity for a breach in storage that might reduce the length of time that it keeps its eating quality.

Still, storage is fine, usually getting us into January.  Typically, we don't look for any of the C.pepo fruits to last all that long anyway.

But, we're in it for the taste, texture and reliability.  Something you don't always find with open pollinated varieties.  But, you do get it with this one.

Have a great day everyone!

Giving Gifts

 

There is one person in particular (other than myself) who must carry much of the burden of hearing my unedited self.  This person often hears the words that escape my lips before I recapture them and turn them over a time or two before either reconsidering their worth or giving them the freedom of my voice or the recognition of their appearance on paper or electronic screen.

You see, when you read things on this blog, they have been considered.  They have been prodded and poked.  They have been filtered and sorted.  And many, many more words have been rejected as well.  

There are far more words on the editing floor than there ever will be in the blog posts or other writings I have produced or ever will produce in my lifetime.

And, even with all of that process, words and thoughts are expressed that I am sometimes less than proud of having, much less sharing.  Which makes me consider all of the words on the "cutting room floor" and those times when the editing machine is broken, or unplugged, or otherwise ignored.

So, in honor of a personal anniversary, I offer the gift of gratitude to all who are willing to deal with my unedited self.  But, in particular, I honor Tammy, my partner in life, who hears me the most when I am less than my best.

For the willingness to share in the process of refining and editing the words and the thoughts, I give thanks and gratitude.  That's a gift I continue to treasure.

The Blessings of Poo

The really great thing about the word "Poo?"  It got you to read past the title, didn't it?!?  Ha!  I knew it!

I'm going to start putting "poo" into every blog title to get people to read more of our blog posts.  I can see that this is a fool-proof plan.  This is especially true if I'm the fool and a single post with "poo" in the title constitutes "proof."  And, now that I have your attention, let me bring you back to the topic at hand.

Really, the topic IS at least partially about poo.  Seriously.  Well, ok.  Since I am supposed to be a professional farmer, I should use the word "manure."  If you want to sound professional and evasive at the same time, you can refer to it as "soil amendments" or "added fertility."  But, since I am ALSO a person who is amused by wordplay and general silliness, we're still going to use the word "poo" just because... it's our blog and I CAN.

Portable Poo Factories on the job.

For a couple of seasons, we used an area just East of the permanent hen pasture to start the henlets (our next flock of hens) and/or some of our broiler chickens.  As evidenced above, the area was cordoned off by electric poultry netting and a portable building was provided for shelter.  Meanwhile, several Carbon-based Portable Poo Factories roamed freely in this area.  This section of land on our farm had not been anything other than pasture since we'd moved here.  Well, ok, the first several years it was mostly ragweed and foxtail, so I don't think that really counts.

We tried to include pastured poultry in our rotation as often as we are able, but this was the first time we turned a pasture area into a growing area.  Frankly, it would have been nice if we had a bit more tillable space to do this more often (put things into and take them out of pasture).  But, we worked with what we had.

The irony of that statement is that, now that we've scaled back, we could probably do more of this sort of thing (move land to pasture and move land out of pasture).  It's just going to take some thought and planning to figure out how to make it work from a labor perspective.

Going back to the topic at hand, in 2016 - 2018, we were realizing that we needed to try and get more growing space moved to the interior of the farm (because of chemical drift issues among other things). So, we purposely started putting chickens in this area to build up fertility using the Portable Poo Factories.  After all, if they'll spread it for us AND give us eggs?  

Well, it sounds like a good deal to me.

early March 2018

This area actually had a bit more history since we had to dig a fairly deep trench in the Spring of 2015 to run frost-free water lines out to Valhalla (the high tunnel on the right in this picture).  You might actually be able to see some of the path this trench took if you look carefully and you can definitely still see the remnants of a dirt pile that has yet to be redistributed to better locations in the center.  We were actually gearing up to do some work in this area in March until...

Late March 2018

 

We did manage to put some plastic down roughly where we wanted to add a new growing plot before the white stuff started to fall on the farm.  If you don't recall, we got most of our snow from March 20 to April 20 in 2017/2018.  

April 2018

This really put us a bit in doubt as to whether we would have time to work up the new plot.  First of all, the plot did have a bit of a dip in the middle that was wetter than the rest.  We were thinking we might try to raise that up a bit.  Second, we are encroaching a bit on "old farmstead" area where old foundations (among other things) might be encountered.  We knew there was good soil there as well, but any time you try to work new ground, you have to expect some surprises (both good and bad).

June 2018

Our old approach to work this ground would have been to use the two-bottom plow and follow up with the tandem disk to smooth it out.  But, we had put plastic down, so we pulled it and mowed things as close as we could.  Then, we used Vince (our power harrow) because we were curious as to what it could do AND we were running short on time.  At issue is that we do not want to overwork the soil and lose all the good Poo Byproduct (aka added fertility) that should be in this area.  The result was what you see above. 

We did find more rocks than we usually do on the farm, but things worked up pretty well.  Unfortunately, the delays put us into the period of time where everything was wet.  So, we ended up having to work the field before we should have and the soil structure is now a bit rough and pebbly for the season.

late July

 

Even though these tomato plants went in later than we wanted, they were catching up to the normal schedule fairly quickly.  It was be interesting to see how they compared to similar plants put into another area of the farm in plots that have been worked for a few years (and are closer to the edges of the farm).

 

The net result was that we had much better health and production from these plants.  Part of it had to do with the Portable Poo Factories.  Part of it might have been a bit more protection from some of the chemicals flying around.  This plot became one of our more productive areas from 2018 to 2021 - and we let it rest in 2022.  And, perhaps, I'll move the hens on to this plot for a little while again this Fall?  

All I can say is that it's all good because of the poo.  You're welcome and come back again soon! 

------------

Much of this post was originally written in August 2018 and is part of our Throwback series.  It has been edited and expanded on in places to bring it to the current day.

Three Weeks

It was just three weeks ago that we entered the month of September, and I've only just gotten used to the idea that we are actually residing in that month.  I am still startled to notice that schools are in session and that Tammy is now fully into the semester at the college.  I am both dismayed and a bit alarmed that the sun comes up later each day and goes down sooner.  There are tasks that I told myself should be easy to get done during the month that I have not even started and there are changes I promised I would make that are still promises - but not reality.

Three weeks.  It doesn't seem like much time at all - yet it can be all the time in the world.

The first days of April this year brought snowfall to the Genuine Faux Farm.  The big, fluffy flakes floated down from above and drew me outside with the camera to see if I could capture a pleasing image or two.  Even if they weren't the nicest pictures in the world, they served as an excellent reminder of what was at that time.  

There was a moment, as I stood outside and the flakes landed on my hands and head (well, hat actually), that time felt like it stopped.  There was silence - except for the sound a snowflake makes when it lands.

But, then I blinked.

And three weeks had passed.  There was no snow.  The grass had greened.  Some of the earliest plants were starting to show interest in waking and displaying their greenery.

The sun woke us up earlier each and every day - unless it was shy and hid behind the clouds.  And, that same sun found more to see in our landscape, so it stuck around a bit longer into the evening - painting the sky as it finally admitted it had seen enough this time around.

Three weeks and the world had changed enough that a stranger might not recognize that they were in the same place that had existed just twenty-one days ago.

Three weeks is about how long it takes for a Barn Swallow chick to hatch and grow big enough for it to take its first flight.  In three days more, it has likely left the nest for good.  In three weeks, we can see the first German-bearded Iris bloom and, sometimes the last for the season.  It's a special bloom season when we see them for four weeks.  We often transplant lettuce seedlings we started in trays after a little more than three weeks.  

Going back to our Barn Swallow friends, they are currently migrating, typically leaving our farm in September (we usually see the last of them on September 15, but many leave September 1st).  They travel an average of 55 miles a day, so in three weeks they will have covered approximately 1,155 miles.  That is approximately the distance from our farm to Galveston, Texas. 

Three weeks.  So little time - and so much.  I can either allow myself to be upset that so much has changed, but I have not accomplished what I wanted OR I can be encouraged and I can think about what I will be able to do in the next three weeks.

Because a lot can change over that period of time.

Miss it - Sort of

Just a few years ago, we were still doing the Farm Share CSA program.  That meant that I had shares to deliver twice a week for 36 to 38 weeks of the year.  In addition, there were egg and other sales the rest of the season. That meant that it was typical for me, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, to hook up a cart to Rosie, the tractor, grab a batch of harvest containers, some tunes, a clipboard and a scale - and go out to harvest whatever was ready (and needed).

Of course, Fall usually meant there were additional harvest tasks that had to occur on the other days.  So, nearly every September day had some sort of harvesting going on.

Like all things of this nature, there was a certain amount of stress that came along for the ride.  Would there be enough of each crop so everyone could get a nice share of it?  Will the quality be up to my standards so I could feel good about what I was providing?  Could I get it all done so that I could clean, pack, load and go - in time?  The answer there was that we were often late during September because my helpers had all gone to their various schools.

The days are getting significantly shorter, but the work could still fill a July day's sunlit hours.

Over the last couple of years, I find that I am having trouble just finding time and energy to do farm things.  But, when I do, I am reminded that I do enjoy the harvest.  Especially, of course, if it is a reasonably good one.

But, I am also pretty sure that I don't have the desire to go back to the way it was either.

So, here we are again.  Looking for balance.  How much of this can I set myself up to do in the future so I can still enjoy the harvest... until I cross the line into being stressed by having too much of a good thing?

This year, we had a nice acorn squash, watermelon and pumpkin harvest.  Several other things have done fine.  And others - not so good.  But we do have more data to consider so we can keep working on finding the answer to the eternal Genuine Faux Farm question.

How much is the right amount of "much?"  

Well, we know one thing for certain.  Next year will be different.

Again.

Ripples on the Pond

I was out doing some morning farm work when I looked and saw a significant smoke trail on the horizon.  It is certainly not the first time I've seen a smoke trail, but this one struck me because it had fooled me when I glanced out the window earlier in the morning into thinking the day was going to be very hazy.  Well, it was a little bit hazy, I suppose, but really it was more clear than anything.  

Now, before I go much further, let me assure you that this was not a house or barn fire - there appeared to be no emergency in progress.  Instead, it was a deliberate burn and I will give no more details than that - because that's not the point.

The point is this:

How often do we take an action and either fail to consider how it will impact others or simply decide to ignore the ripples that result when we throw a stone into the pond?

Just look how far that smoke had traveled from this single point.  It's a great example of what a temperature inversion (warmer air acting as a cap for cooler air and preventing smoke from rising further off the ground).

Tammy and I like to have our windows open, especially at night.  Unfortunately, there have been many times we have been awoken to the smell of smoke that causes one of us to get up to investigate in case we have a problem.  Usually, the smoke is from someone's fire miles away that has been capped by just such an inversion.  And, I am pretty certain that those who lit that little fire to burn their trash (or whatever) did not consider who else might be affected by what they were doing at that moment. 

But, this is not a rant about people burning things on days where there is a temperature inversion.  After all, where does that smoke go when there isn't a warm-air cap?  It goes higher into the atmosphere - along with so many other things we like to spew out into the air.  Eventually, it comes down in rain.  So, it's not as if it disappears.  It's still there.  And there is no telling where it will eventually land.

The point is this.  The things one person puts into the air (smoke from fires, pesticides, vehicle emissions - you name it) can impact places that are far away.  The ripples each of us make on the pond can make a difference in the lives of other people, places and things.

And we seem to have a difficult time taking that reality seriously.

 

What you are seeing now is a close-up picture of one of our ash trees that died after the Emerald Ash Borer came and infested all of the ash trees in our area.  The borer larvae essentially burrow (and eat) their way through the part of the tree just under the outer bark, where water and nutrients are transported to the branches and leaves.  The net result is that the tree dies.  This has been devastating in our area because there were a significant number of ashes on farmsteads and woods.

The Emerald Ash Borer originated in Russia and northern China and was first identified in the US in 2002.  The likely vector for travel was wood used in cargo ships for packing and crating consumer goods.  Now - 20 years later - we're lucky to find any ash trees that aren't dead or dying in Iowa.

The ripples on the pond have reached our shores.

How did it happen?  I'm sure we'll never know. And it isn't important that we pinpoint who made the decisions or made the mistakes that led to the use of infested wood for packaging.

Someone took a shortcut to get a job done that they were being pressured to do.  Someone decided that expending more effort, time or resources to make sure lumber was not infested was not worthwhile.  Someone wasn't even aware Emerald Ash Borers were a thing.  Or maybe someone decided it wasn't worthwhile to read through all of the restrictions for packing materials (that might have alerted them to the problem) because it was annoying and infringed on their rights to just get things done the way they wanted to do it.

After all, people don't often see these far flung results - the ripples that wash ashore somewhere else to become someone else's problems.  Besides, they're probably too busy being worried and bothered by the waves someone else has created that are flooding their own lives.

Happily, not all ripples in the pond are unwelcome.

I've noticed that some of the ditches on the gravel roads in our area have been exhibiting more flowers over the past several years.  A neighbor a half mile down the road put in many acres of pollinator habitat that includes these flowers.  It appears that one unintended (and welcome) consequence is that these flowers are showing up in ditches around us.

This is the great equalizer that we desperately need to remind ourselves of.  If you, or I, or someone else does something with forethought, wisdom and good intent, those ripples can also find their way to distant and unknown shores.

When we take the time to consider the consequences, both negative and positive, and we act on the positives - there is no telling how many lives and places may benefit in the end.