Trying to Be Flexible

The flex tine cultivator has been sitting in one spot for a few months, since I last used it, and it needs to get moved to its winter storage location.  There are some things we need to do to prepare the hen room for colder weather, like acquire new heaters for the water and put the plastic cover over the sides to cut the wind and keep some heat in.  And we still need to finish the end of season work in the high tunnels.

The Thanksgiving "break" on our farm is often a good time to do this work - but it's often a better time to be disappointed that we didn't complete these things BEFORE it got chilly enough to make the work uncomfortable.

Now, if there is sunshine, the high tunnels will be pretty nice to work in.  So, I don't want to complain about that too much.  But, I still need to organize the garage so the car can get into it.  Already Tammy has had to deal with frosted windows in the morning more times than I want to admit.  

Unfortunately, the garage is not a "warm" place to work anymore.  And there will be things I will look at and sadly recognize that I won't get those things done AGAIN this year.  The same thing will happen in the truck barn.. and the Poultry Pavilion.. and pretty much everywhere else I walk on the farm.

This is a cycle we go through every year.  It's probably a cycle that many of you who read the blog can recognize.  We spend so much time just navigating our lives that all of the grand plans that we expect to accomplish throughout a day, week, month, season or year, seem to get pushed aside.  Only the regret that they weren't realized remain.

Ok, regret and a solid resolve that we will do better next time.

You could try to tell me that we should adjust our goals to fit reality - but that won't work.  Part of the issue is that, when you are a steward of a small-scale farm, there are things that need to get done and no one else is going to do them.  But, in reality, the issue is big enough and complex enough that a simple paragraph or three doesn't even begin to cover it.

So, I find myself trying to model myself after the flex tine cultivator (the first image).  The heavy, but flexible tines bounce over the soil, disturbing it enough to uproot small weeds.  It bounces over and around tougher objects, like rocks or bigger plants.  I need to bounce around some of these bigger obstacles to continue to move forward and make things better.

And that's what soothes me when I am discontented with progress.  We are making progress, continually.  We just don't always have the huge visual or obvious improvements that we crave.  And, yes, we don't get to it all.  But, we're still moving forward.  

I just need to be flexible enough to accept that.

Outstanding in the Rain

As small-scale vegetable and poultry farmers dedicated to local sales, we became experts at numerous things.  We're very good about doing lots of laundry and Farmer Rob barely blinked at putting in a few hundred cloves of garlic in a short period of time this Fall.  We can tell if there is an invader in the chicken yard from the other side of the farm.  We know when the broccoli heads are at peak harvest quality and I can usually put together a couple of pounds of (name your veggie) without also finding a scale.  

And we have been very good at standing in the rain.

People who have outdoor jobs, such as farming, can probably relate to the "Five Stages of Being Wet" that we introduced for the first time in the early years of the blog.  Sometimes, you get wet because you don't have a choice.  The job (whatever it is) can't be brought to a halt just yet, so - there you are.  At other times, the job can't continue once things get too wet, so you keep pushing until it reaches that point.

I can recall numerous times that we were pushing to get a 'few more things' planted just prior to a rain.  We would keep an eye on the skies so we would know if we needed to be ready to pack it all in.  But, there was a huge difference between a rain that caused us to rush and gather all the equipment and go versus those light or steady rains that we would just tolerate as we continued with our task.

There were even more times that we pushed to harvest despite the rain, even when it was quite heavy.  You see, when you have two to three deliveries a week, you can't just 'not harvest' when the weather is less than ideal.  Of course we plan our harvests so we pick things that won't be adversely affected because we are working with them in the wet.  "One and done" crops like lettuce or cauliflower are often good choices, but I never did like harvesting wet root crops.  There are only so many times you want to say to yourself, "I know there must be a carrot in the middle of all that mud I just pulled up."

So, I told you those stories so I can tell you about the tolerance we developed for standing in the rain.  

I can recall numerous farmers' markets where we dealt with downpours, strong winds, and continuous rains.  There were even multiple events where it was cold (35 degrees) and the rain was falling sideways in a stiff, northwest wind.  I remember multiple CSA distributions in rainy conditions.  One season, we had nine consecutive Thursdays (typically our Cedar Falls distribution) where it rained during the entirety of each of our two and a half hour delivery periods.

It was not uncommon for us to stand outside the shelter area so our customers could stay dry and we very rarely packed up early, simply because we knew there were some folks who had to come later.  And, if there were still people on our delivery list that had not arrived to pick up their share, we stayed until 'closing time' because that's just what you do. 

I have realized that I have become less willing to stand in the rain than I once was.  Or, more accurately, the reasons I accept as being good enough to stay out in the rain have changed.

I will stand in the rain, the cold and the wind - for hours if I must - for someone who needs me to do so.  I will work in the pouring rain if the task really must be done - I will not forsake it just because I don't want to be cold and wet.  There will still be times that I will stay in the field, work in the pasture or remain on the tractor when conditions are not optimal.  After all, that is part of what I bargained for when I decided to be a grower and raise poultry.

On the other hand, I will no longer stand in the rain for the sake of potential business.  I won't get soaked for the possibility of another couple of dollars in sales.  But, I will stand in the rain for you.

I realize this is a fine distinction, so let me try to make it clearer for you.

If someone specifically needs me to stand in the rain to get them food that they need - I'll do it.  If someone else's tent blows over and their product is exposed to the elements, I will be among those who will rush over and help them get things under cover - even if I get soaked doing it.  If I'm in one of our fields and I know another ten minutes will finish the task, I can handle getting cold and wet.  If someone has a flat by the side of the road, I'll help them change to a spare even if (and maybe especially if) conditions are poor.  And, if my spirit wills it, I will stand in the rain because I want to.

I just don't see the need to stand in the rain because some unwritten rule or a misplaced sense of obligation says I am supposed to.

This has been a gradual revelation to us over the years.  Our last couple of years offering farm shares saw us seeking out delivery locations that provided us with more (rather than less) shelter, preferably with indoor options when the weather got difficult.  Our delivery times became more compact, reducing the need to stand around in possibly inclement weather for too long.  And now, we make deliveries to about once every other week to two locations.  While we are outdoors, we have very brief periods of scheduled time for those deliveries.

It is possible that we place a higher value on our own comfort than we once did.  Or more accurately, we might consider our own discomfort to be enough of an 'expense' to cause us to look for alternatives. 

It is actually even more complex than that.  Over time, we have come to realize that our willingness to be soaked rarely paid off.  At farmers' market, rain usually signaled the end of customers coming to purchase, even if it cleared up well before closing time.  And, with CSA distributions, we had the same number of shares to deliver whether we were soaked or not.  Wouldn't you rather make deliveries without being soaked?  With a rare exception or two - we would prefer to stay on the drier side, especially if it meant we would have to ride in a truck for forty-five minutes before we could get home to change. 

After all, if we get damp on the farm, we just go into the farm house and change into dry clothes (and maybe, ironically, take a shower).  

What if you get caught in the rain 45 minutes from home?  Welcome to exploring the world of being damp!  

Did we tell you about the time the farmers' market in Waterloo experienced a downpour, complete with wind knocking over tables and tents?  It rained and blew so hard that some of our produce washed away and went down the storm sewer that was hundreds of feet away.   After the clean-up, we squelched into the nearby box store, bought clothing and went into their restroom to change.  Yep, we started taking a change of clothing with us to any market or delivery that looked like it might rain from then on and we started backing away from farmers markets the next season.

So, here's to the next time we get caught in the rain and we have a choice of whether we want to get to shelter or if we want to feel the cool drops landing on our shoulders. If we do that, we'll have a good reason for it - even if that reason is "because I want to."

One Thing I Don't Miss

A rainbow from September of 2015 on the farm

There are some things about working on a diversified vegetable farm that just come with the territory.  One of those things is that you are going to get rained on.  It might be just a few drops, or a gentle mist - or maybe it will be a downpour - but it's going to happen.  Even in a drought year, there will be a shower that's going to sneak up and get you, simply because this sort of work has you outside most days, for most of the day.

For the last few years now, I have not been working exclusively on the farm, and most of our income comes from off the farm.  That means I don't HAVE to be out in all weather MOST of the time.

But, there are still things that have to get done when the weather isn't perfect.  That's just the way it is.  And I will say that I really don't miss the cold rains in October when they catch you trying to finish things up outside.

Yes, that happened to me yesterday.  And, I am sure it will happen again.  That doesn't mean I have to like it.

A late June storm from.... whatever year that was.

Yesterday's episode got me to thinking about the stages of dampness we referenced frequently on our farm when that was my full-time job.  So, I thought I would share them today in honor of all of the times I have visited each of these states of being....

The Farmer's Guide to the Stages of Dampness

1. Stage the First

You see it coming and you rush to complete whatever you are doing in hopes of getting it done AND getting in before the rain hits. It is adrenaline rush time.  This is when you find another gear that you don't always remember you have.  You don't allow yourself a moment to look at a heavy container full of onions to assess how heavy it might be - you just lift it and move it.  'Cause that's the way it is when the rain starts. 

You might feel a random drop or two at this point, but it isn't really raining.  Most of the moisture comes from your own person in the form of sweat.  The last fifteen plants you are transplanting get jammed into the ground in rapid succession.  You try to nab the final 20 bunches of kale before the rain catches you.  Or you go into hyperdrive picking up the potatoes that you just dug out with the middle buster on the tractor.

1a. Exception to Stage the First - Threatening Weather

You see it coming and you see something that you really don't like.  Maybe there's some heavy lightning or a squall line of some kind.  

Depending on how much time you *think* you have, you and any workers that might be with you grab all of the tools and everyone hustles in.  High tunnels get closed up, windows in vehicles and the house get closed up and everything and anything else that needs to be dealt with gets dealt with.  The irony here is that the farmers usually recognize these situations in time to get things battened down and get themselves under shelter before they hit much more than stage two... unless... you see something you forgot and you go back out into it.  In that case, we normally skip right to Stage the Fifth.

2. Stage the Second 

The rain starts and you rush to get anything undercover that really must not get wet. You feel every drop of rain and you might even see steam come off of your shoulders as the cold raindrops hit you.  Sometimes you can't help but let out a bit of a yelp.  Cold cold cold COLD!

If you haven't completed your task that you really needed to get done and there isn't anything that really needs to be moved under cover (should that radio still be out here?), then you keep working.  You're still moving quickly in hopes that you won't get any wetter.  

Perhaps it will stop?  At this point, there is hope that you won't get all that wet and a change of clothes will not be necessary.  It's been known to happen.  And when it does, you just work as if you didn't even notice the rain in the first place.  People who don't typically work outside decide you must either be really tough or you have no sense.

And when there's no sense, there's no feeling.

3. Stage the Third 

You are damp, but there really is 'just a bit' more to do and you really don't want to leave it (or can't leave it). So, you keep rushing in hopes of getting done before you get too wet, too muddy, or both.

The soil starts to get a little sticky and you notice that you are now a couple of inches taller than normal as your boots/shoes collect some mud that you can later bring into the house with you.  You have started to use your jeans more frequently as the portable rag that they are.  You are starting to realize that whatever it is you are harvesting is going to have a little mud on it that will need to be cleaned off before it is delivered.

If you are planting, you have to quit at this point.  Seeders get jammed up.  Plants stick as readily to your hand or planter as they will to the dirt.  Weeding can continue until you have too much mud on your hands to grasp weeds properly or you spend more time cleaning the blades on your tools than you are weeding.  

How many of you have tried to pull wet crab grass?  Ya.  Not happening at this point.  So, planting and weeding means we quit and start bringing things in.  We just *might* avoid the next stages of wetness if we hustle.

But if you're harvesting and you have a delivery coming up, you have not hope for that.

4. Stage the Fourth 

You can still get a little bit wetter, but there really is no more hope of getting done and in before you have to towel off and change clothing. As a matter of fact, if you stand up from a typical harvest position, you will discover only a few remaining dry spots on your person.  

Your back is pretty well soaked and you probably have water dripping off the bill of your cap by now.  You've either decided that the rain isn't as cold as it was or you simply don't care at this point.  The pace slows down, it really doesn't matter how fast things get done anymore. Part of you accepts that being in the rain can be somewhat pleasant - except if it is a downpour - or there is lightning and/or heavy winds.

The ground has moved from tacky to slippery.  Part of you still worries about slipping and falling.  The other part looks at the jeans you have been using as a rag during the rain event thus far and you wonder if it would make a difference to your appearance if you did fall.  Your shoes are heavy and your shirt is plastered to your back.  

At some point between stages three and four you had the unpleasant experience of the first drip or two of rainwater running down the small of your back and into places we won't mention on a family blog.

5. Stage the Fifth 

There is no way you can be wetter - even if you submerged yourself in a pool. You could wring a few gallons of water out of your underpants if you had to. 

At this point, you only keep picking because you have to - and it still doesn't matter if you go in. The only thing that stops you is if you will be doing more damage to the crop and field than you are willing to accept. Even then, you keep picking if there is a deadline to meet. 

The rain is no longer annoying. The issues listed in the prior stages no longer bother you. This is likely because you have reached a special kind of numbness that is known by CSA growers, truck/market farmers and other folks who have to perform tasks in this sort of weather once in a while.

Oops.  Farmer Rob just remembered the little notebook he keeps in that side pocket in his jeans.  Well, we'll just have to get a new one and hope this one dries out enough so he can decipher the notes later when it dries out.

Once the farmers finally get themselves inside, they have to try and figure out how to take off the soaked clothing.  The only thing worse is trying to put on dry clothing.  If you reached stage five, it almost seems as if your skin won't dry off easily.  It's a disturbing feeling to have a clean (and dry) t-shirt rolled up and stuck as you attempt to pull it on.  We won't even talk about the underwear you're having trouble with.  Oh.. .and the SOCKS.  Ugh.

Recent Events

Over the years, we got better at getting things done before the rain hits.  And, now that I don't work outside every day, I find myself deciding it isn't important to stay out long enough to get really soaked - as long as there is time to make that decision.

But, when a more severe system hits, we find ourselves running around in downpours (some of them sideways) in an effort to take care of things.  Last year we had a system move in from a direction we aren't used to watching and it forced Rob and Tammy to spend some quality time in sideways rain while they worked to shut down the high tunnels.  Sometimes you just have to have a good Stage Five Dampness to make the day complete.

Frost's Eve Reflections

This past weekend was dictated, to a large extent, by the weather forecast that was calling for our first frosts on the farm this Fall.  And, as is often the tradition at the Genuine Faux Farm, we were also realizing that our first frost would, in all likelihood, be our first freeze as well.  We do like to do things right here, don't you know!

It's always a bit stressful, when the weather turns.  We get the rude awakening that our rows of zinnias, even if they were starting to look a little rough anyway, are going to lose their luster, turning a crispy brown.  And, we also realize that we need to get many of our crops harvested and in buildings where they will not get bitten by the cold.  

Since that cold is likely to land below freezing, we also take the harvest in our high tunnels seriously.  The summer crops, like tomatoes, green beans and peppers don't typically like it when the temps get below freezing - even if it is brief.

Some of you might recall that Tammy and I struggled to get started this Spring - once again due to health issues.   But things started to turn around when our farmer friends visited mid-June and helped us to clean up and prepare Valhalla (our larger high tunnel) for planting.  Just one week later, we had the high tunnel planted and our southwest plot was also in.

Somewhere in there, we also got some winter squash into the ground, as well as some sunflowers and sweet corn.  The sweet corn wasn't ready until September, but we actually got some and we pulled in the butternut squash on Sunday.  And yes, we grew some quality onions and have been enjoying some nice melons!

The Joe's Long Cayenne plants, despite being tasted by the deer early in their life, have done themselves proud.  Each plant was completely covered in these long hot peppers.  For that matter, all of the peppers did very well for us this year.  The Black Krim tomatoes really carried the load this year.  So, we have a lot to be pleased with - despite a difficult start and our limited time to get out and do at the farm this Summer.

Sure.  Lots of things went wrong too.  But that's how it works.  We've never had a perfect year at the Genuine Faux Farm.  Except that every year is perfect, because we always get some good food from our fields - and we always get to spend some time working with the land to try and do our best for this small part of the world. 

Looking Up

This past weekend, Tammy and I did our best to do "all the things" that we could not do during our work weeks.  There was laundry, dishes, harvesting, poultry work, processing and... well, there was lots going on.

I will also admit that because both of us have had a lot on our "work plates," we've both been keeping our heads down as we each pull on our respective plows.  Sometimes that's the way it needs to be.  But, it also means that when we look up from the work plow, everything else looks like a plow too.  Have farm stuff to do?  Put your head down and pull.  Household things?  Put your head down and get it done.

We needed to pick the apples on the Cortland tree on Sunday.  Put your head down and...

Hey, wait!  I have to look UP to pick apples.

Ooooooh!  Those clouds are really neat!  And the sky is so blue.  And, there's still some nice green in the trees.  And the temperature's really nice.  And, there isn't a lot of smoke from Canada wildfires.  And, there aren't a lot of gnats.  And, it's not too wet.  And, it actually rained a little, so it's not (quite) as dry.

And the apples taste good.

And I got to spend some time harvesting those apples with my best friend.

And, I need to remind myself that I can unhitch myself from any plow I hook myself onto.

Have a good day everyone!  And I hope you give yourself a chance to look up.

Calm After the Storm

Once the storms cleared out on Friday and the rain was over, we went outside to do the remaining farm chores.  We'd already shut down the high tunnels in case the ominous clouds packed any poofs that would send our hoop buildings into the next county if they were left open.  Tools and any items that were a risk to taking flight in nasty weather were also already put away or under shelter.

But, we still needed to put the chickens to bed.  So, we stepped outside as the sun was setting in the newly clearing skies to the west.  

Then I stepped back inside to grab the camera.

I looked for ways to show the contrast of the sunset colors with the impending darkness.  I took experimental photos from different angles and from different locations too.  Some of them actually turned out pretty well. 

I was able to catch some Mammatus clouds that appeared over the Poultry Pavilion once we walked to the north side of the farm.  Their presence at the back edge of the storm, not far from the cloud edges that were collecting the last of the day's sun, was not a surprise to us.  But, they do add some interesting texture and drama to the sky.

As we approached Crazy Maurice, our Weeping Willow friend who is hosting the laying hens in their Summer Cottage, we were treated to some other dramatic scenes.

There was still a heavy rain cell to our northwest and they obscured the last as the sun as it dipped below the horizon.  They also provided interesting contrast and depth.  A few scud (or Fractus) clouds were still evident as they tried to decide if they wanted to keep up with the weakening rain cell or just float away.

The truly good news about the show in the sky was that it gave us both something to look at as we waited for the chickens to decide it really WAS time to go to bed.  This putting the laying hens to bed thing is going to be just that... a thing... for a while now.  

The Summer Cottage has a board that serves as a ramp to give the hens better access to their shelter.  So, unlike the Poultry Pavilion, where they had been housed before, there really is no good way for us to herd the birds into the room.  There's not much for it except to wait - patiently or not - until they all make the slow decision to climb the ramp and seek out a perch.

Not every night is going to have a storm and a sunset show to provide interest to the evening's tasks that we do on the farm.  But that's ok.  If it happened every night, it would cease to be special.  But even if it did happen every night, I'd like to think that I would still appreciate seeing it and that I would find myself being much more patient as I look at the sky...

and wait for our poultry decide their day was done. 

Farmer Jitters

I have the advantage that I can (and do) read weather forecasts and view various weather maps.  I also have some experience with being outdoors at our farm and seeing all kinds of weather rolling in.  So, with the knowledge that there was going to be a fairly big change from hot, humid conditions to much cooler, drier air, I knew there might be something up with Friday's weather.

As the day rolled on, I could feel the energy.  I saw clouds that told me something could certainly come of it starting at about 1 PM in the afternoon.  And, I let Tammy know we needed to watch for things coming out of the west as the day progressed from there.

I started the day alert for the possibility.  Then as I saw the signs that severe weather was going to be likely in our area develop, I got downright jittery.

The good news for us?  Well, the gravel road in this picture heads straight west.  Most of the nasty is to the left (South), so we got the edge of the front line of storms and then a nice downpour followed a bit after that.  Even better for us, more nasty weather broke to our North as well.  We got about an inch and a half of rain and maybe some tiny bits of hail - but that's it.

Still, it was an impressive storm as it went over.  Things were dark enough at 6:45 PM that our solar lights decided it was time to switch on.

Apparently a funnel cloud was spotted to the south of us maybe eight to ten miles away.  Close, yet so far away.  We even saw what looked like a little spin-up to our East after the squall front passed.  Nothing serious, but certainly an indication of unstable air as Mother Nature looked to sweep some of the hot and soupy air away from us for awhile.

And maybe the farmer can get over the jitters.

Low Cloud Cover

One of the advantages, if you can call it that, of having a phone that also has a camera is that you can capture a moment in time without having to go out of your way to find the camera.   Sadly, the quality of pictures are inferior.  But, it still means that I was able to record a couple of moments on the farm that would otherwise have been missed.

The mist rises late on a May day

I admit that I fought moving from the old flip phone for some time, just as we delayed moving from a land line.  It is not that I don't appreciate what a person CAN do with a "smart" phone.  It is more that I do not appreciate some of the things these phones seem to encourage people to do (and not do).

But, this blog post is not just a rant about phones.

So, what IS this blog about, you ask?

That's a great question!  And, when I started the blog I was not entirely sure where it was going to go, but I knew the root of it would have something to do with the pictures I discovered on my phone.  That, in turn, made me think about phones (as you just saw).  I rapidly moved past that to consider the 'why.'  Why do I tend to adopt new technologies slower than many people?  This might seem especially odd given my education in Computer Science.

Here comes another squall line!

Sometimes I see new technologies as something akin to the storm that is approaching in the photos above and below.  You see them rapidly approaching from the horizon and they look pretty impressive at the outset.  Before you know it, they're on you and the weather they bring is not always all that beneficial to you.  Sometimes, the promised rain is barely more than a drop or two.  Other times, the damage caused by the storm is far greater than any promise there was for a beneficial rain.

Technology can be a lot like that.  Gee, this new technology is going to take the world by storm!  Nope, never mind... Or, that sure looks impressive.  Just think of all the good it will do!  Nope, never mind...

A friend of mine in college, who also happened to be someone I had great respect for, told me that they regretted taking a class on the analytical study of music.  Why?  It was because they felt it actually was reducing their appreciation of music as a whole because they were, perhaps, getting into the music so deeply that it was difficult to merely listen without starting to deconstruct what was there.

In a similar fashion, my studies in computing made me very aware of all that goes into technology.  Because of those studies, I tend to deconstruct new technologies and immediate look for unintended consequences that might follow or ways people are likely to misuse something once it is developed.  I am also fully aware that many 'new tech' items are simply vaporware - unable to deliver on the promise.  As a result, I am not likely to rush towards new tools and I often hold them away from myself until it is required that I use them or I am convinced that their use would truly be beneficial.   Happily for me, my training also makes it a bit easier for me to adapt and properly use the technology once I decide I must use it.

The technologies that seem to find their way into my toolbox are often more like the mist that you see developing in the first two photos.  They have slowly permeated our world until we can't seem to escape their presence - even if we wanted to.  

Do You Mind If I Smoke?

Wednesday was going to be a difficult day after a series of difficult days.  But I was hopeful that I could spend a little time cultivating in Valhalla (one of our high tunnels) or doing some sort of outdoors farm work.  Maybe a little time working with the soil and green and growing things would offset some of struggle some of the other events had introduced into our lives.

But I didn't count on the smoke.

Visibility fell to less than one mile and after doing chores and a few other things outside, I recognized that I was starting to cough and my lungs were starting to feel a bit tight.  So, I had to retreat to the indoors where we are among those who are fortunate to have some sort of air conditioning.

This Air Quality Index (AQI) map was copied from the Iowa Department of Natural Resources site at about noon on Wednesday.  You can view an interactive map here.  At the point I took this image, the IQAir site listed Waterloo's AQI at 189.  

This rating puts us soundly in the "unhealthy" range and on the edge (200) of the "very unhealthy" rating.  At least we are still a long ways away from "hazardous."

Tammy had checked the AQI numbers earlier in the day and reported that she saw readings in our area over 200.  By my observations, looking out the window or when I go outside, I am certain the numbers would fluctuate throughout the day.  Sometimes I can see the neighbors house that is a half mile away pretty clearly.  Sometimes.... not so much.

Perhaps the most difficult thing to swallow in all of this from my personal perspective is the comfortable temperatures and the nice breeze that would knock down some of the gnats that often bother us when we're outdoors at the farm.  It would be a great day to be outside at the Genuine Faux Farm.

If only you could breathe.

I recognize that my own little inconveniences only trivialize what is actually happening in the world around me.  I grabbed this map from a location I forgot to document earlier in the month of June.  And, if you're interested in satellite images that show the fires and smoke, I suggest this site.  This isn't just one or two wildfires, it is hundreds of wildfires all over Canada.  While I am struggling with smoke in Iowa, I recognize how much worse the situation must be for our neighbors to the north.

So, I guess I'll just deal with a difficult day in a different way.  After all, it could be more difficult than it already is.  Sometimes that's the blessing you have to count, when others don't seem so obvious to you.

Flurry, Snow Squall, or Just Annoying

It was the end of the day on Friday and everyone in the Genuine Faux Farm household was feeling tired.  And, by everyone, I mean Rob and Tammy.  Bree was simply happy that the humans were sitting still so that she could perch herself on a human's lap.  We were indulging in watching a video after eating dinner and I found that I was a bit trapped with Tammy laying down and putting feet in my lap and Bree sitting on Tammy's feet.

I happened to look out the window and I saw this squall line to our west.  We have certainly seen these before in prior years, so it wasn't entirely new.  But, they can be pretty dramatic - especially if the sun is pretty low in the western sky and it gets blocked by the rapidly moving flurry of snow.  It looks pretty surreal when sunbeams peak through a few cracks in the wall of clouds and snow.

But, I was stuck, so there wasn't going to be a chance to take a picture.  And that's fine.

Once the clouds got to us there was a few solid minutes of horizontal snow that rapidly covered surfaces and made little "ticking" sounds as individual flakes hit the window pane.  Once the show was over and Bree and Tammy were willing to move, I got up and recorded a picture or two.

I think many (but not all) who live in Iowa might agree that snow is actually welcome to cover some of the bleak winter landscape.  But, in my mind, it is a whole different matter when the grass has greened up as much as ours has over the last couple of weeks.  The contrast was actually quite beautiful to see between the rich green color and the fresh white snowfall.

But, I am not sure the snow, despite the fact that it would melt quickly, was really all that welcome this time around.  Most of the time, I find that I am pretty philosophical about snowfall in April.  It happens and you need to expect it to happen.  But for some reason I have been annoyed by the recent cool weather and snow.

Thinking about it, I have been annoyed when we've had nice weather days lately too because I haven't been able to get out and enjoy them.  Maybe it's not the weather, it's just me.

I'm even tempered - always annoyed.

Horizontal Snowfall

The warm weather last week had us all thinking very strong Spring-time thoughts - and I'm not just talking about the humans in the room.  Our Farm Supervisory Crew (Inspector, Soup and Murphy) were less than overjoyed by the weather on Sunday that started with strong, cold winds and a temperature that was not much over the freezing mark.  The hens barreled out of their shelter as they normally do in the morning, but they were very much wanting to be inside by the time we got to mid-afternoon, when the winds really got going.

It is mid-April in Iowa, so temperatures and weather like this is certainly not out of the question.  As a matter of fact, I can only recall one season that didn't tease us like this with nice warm temperatures before opening the door for Old Man Wynter at least one more time.

The plants that normally begin to show up in early Spring have been very patient this year - moving very slowly as if they knew something was up.  But, like the rest of us, they couldn't help themselves.  While we were getting used to doing chores outside without gloves and less than three layers of clothing, the Daffodils, Surprise Lilies, Bluebells, Lungwort and other similar plants sprang up from the ground and even started.  We even had one daffodil open up on Sunday morning - in time to be encased in snow and ice.

The wind encouraged the snow to stick to vertical surfaces and wedged flakes in the crevasses that could found in bark and the sides of buildings.  A small hole in one outbuilding resulted in snowflakes fluttering down on me as I was attempting to do work with the mistaken belief that the snow would not reach me there.  It often amazes me how well some strong wind and a little snow can illustrate for me that there are some things that need repair that I hadn't considered to be all that important only hours before.

Even our Indoor Supervisor, Bree, could sense that the winds had changed (so to speak).  The windows that had been open in the days prior were now securely closed.  The temperature in the farm house was a bit lower than it had been for several days in a row.  

All of the signs pointed to finding good places to take catnaps.  If she could take them where the humans were, all the better.  Initially, near the humans was a good option.  But as the day wore on, this changed to being ON the humans.

I guess we said we wanted a lap cat when we brought Bree and Hobnob home, didn't we?

We know from past experience that the Lungwort and other similar plants will survive this cold snap and the snow.  They might be set back a little bit, but they will continue to bloom and the temperatures will rebound.  But, on Sunday (and Monday) they shivered with the rest of us and wondered if perhaps returning to their winter naps might be preferable to what they were dealing with in this moment in time.

Of course, I couldn't help myself.  The reversal in weather conditions after so much of the plant life had decided it was safe to emerge and maybe even flower grabbed my attention and my imagination.  I grabbed the camera and went out to see what I could capture.

Then after a couple of shots I went back in and grabbed my coat.  Yes, Spring often requires that we be prepared to make adjustments.  Even if we would really rather not do so.

The Magnolia blossoms were pretty certain the time was now and they were swelling rapidly last week, only to stall and "freeze" in place as the snow flew.  There was even one bloom that had opened about a quarter of the way.  It was still holding the same shape throughout the snow on Sunday and into Monday.  It was almost as if it heard the March Lion roar and it stopped moving in hopes that it wouldn't be seen and be spared from a mauling.

The forecast is calling for some nicer days in the near future - and by nicer I mean, warmer than this.  But, we won't be going back to 70s and 80s for temperatures for a while.  Perhaps that will be a blessing for us?  Maybe the blooms will unfurl a bit more deliberately and the greenery will reach to the sun a bit slower than it had been doing.  It could actually give us a chance to appreciate Spring at a pace that we can handle, rather than jumping directly to Summer.

Whichever way it goes, we'll do our best to participate and appreciate.

Rain Hat

Hāʻupu is a mountain to the West of Nawiliwili Harbor on Kauaʻi and is the tallest peak of the mountain range that bears its name.  We could view it and some of its sibling peaks from where we were staying during the first part of our visit.  

Hāʻupu has an elevation approaching 2300 feet and tops other surroundng peaks by 600 feet or more.  It was tall enough that it would, on a regular basis, catch a cloud and put on a hat whenever it desired to do so.  Also known as Black Mountain, we discovered that the presence of a hat could actually help us determine if one of Kauai's periodic showers might be possible in the Kalaheo (and perhaps Kaloa) areas.  It even gave us some clues on the weather for Nawiliwili Harbor.

As a matter of fact, there was a bit of a storm on Kauai during the early part of our visit. The west and northern parts of Kauai saw wind damage.  At our location, in the southeast, we got somewhere in the neighborhood of three inches of rain.  There was even some rare (for Kauai) thunder and lightning.

Being a large weather system, the clouds that mattered approached us from the west.  Typically, when there isn't a strong system, the prevailing pattern is for the clouds to come over the island from the north/northeast.  The moisture cools and condenses as it climbs the dormant volcano.  What's left might land as a hat on Hāʻupu, possibly indicating that there is enough left to give rain to this part of the island.

Well, with this storm system, Black Mountain gave notice to those of us to its east that the rain was coming.  The rain hat would extend down over Ha'upu's head and then cover its shoulders. 

Eventually, the entirety of the mountain would be covered.  That's when we knew the rain was imminent.  It was time to seek shelter, unless you were interested in spending time getting very damp.

There have been many times in our lives where we haven't minded being caught in the rain.  There have been several others where we DID mind, but we got caught in it anyway.  For that matter, work on the farm rarely halts when the rain comes - but it's a different matter if there is a storm that packs some lightning.  And this storm featured enough of that to make the weather-respecting farmers spend a day or so inside. 

Hāʻupu is also the name of a legendary chief on Kauai.  One story tells of a time that this person was sleeping on a mountain that overlooked the ocean channel between Oahu and Kauai.  This vantage point gave Hāʻupu the opportunity to spy any invading force from the other island and provide time to prepare.

On this particular night, Hāʻupu was awoken by the sound of many people on the water.  Thinking it might be an invading force, he tore out a great rock from the mountain face and hurled it towards the boats, landing in their center, where the chief Kaena was in his boat, surrounded by his people out for a night's fishing expedition.

Chief Kaena and many of his people died and the rock was large enough to throw sand up and create what is now Kaena Point on Oahu.

The mountain can also be seen in all its glory as it stands in the background over the Menehune Fish Ponds.  

As with all things that have great history, there are several stories related to it.  For example, Pohaku O Kauai (the Rock of Kauai) that was thrown in the story about Ha`upa, is also explained by another story.  Maui sought to use his magic hook to pull Kauai closer to Oahu and combine the islands.  However, a large rock broke away from Kauai and landed at his feet and the rest of the island remained where it was.

It is also said that the profile of a beautiful woman is carved on this mountain (Hāʻupu).  The British renamed it after their queen, but one Hawaiian story tells of Hinaiuka (or Hina), who was memorialized for winning a contest of beauty by having her imaged carved here.

And there you are, your stories of Kauai for the day.  Have a good remainder of yours!

Downstream

It's only natural.  We curse those upstream from us and ignore those who live downstream from us so they can have their turn cursing at us.  I am not particularly found of cursing and curses, so I wonder if that is why this particular tendency bothers me so much.  I am guessing, however, that this is not the reason I am bothered... read on if you want to learn more!

Big Picture Issues with "Sending it Downstream"

When we established the Genuine Faux Farm in 2004/2005 we ushered in a phase in our lives where we were to become ever so much more sensitive to the weather, the climate, and the things we all do to our environment in the course of doing whatever it is we do.  I'd like to think that Tammy and I were aware of many of the issues that come with living in the 'commons' that is our world and that we were doing our level-best to not be part of the problem.  And, maybe, just maybe, we were sometimes part of the solution.

"Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better."  – Maya Angelou


It turns out that we were woefully uninformed and lacked full appreciation for what is going on in our world.  And, oddly enough, I am hopeful that I will continue to experience life and learning in the years to come so that I can say the same about the "current me" at some later point in time.  In the meantime, we'll get by with what we think we know now and we'll continue to do what we can to do the right things in the right ways, whatever we think these actions/goals might be.

Up until the point where we scaled our farm back and stopped offering our farm share CSA program, Iowa had experienced an increased number of excessive rain events.  It felt personal because the number of flooding and heavy rain events set record after record throughout the state making it difficult for us to continue.  Now that we have scaled back, we've had dry weather and now drought (something our farm is better able to handle).

But, in case you hadn't noticed, this still hasn't mean the excessive rain events have stopped.  Reference the Summer flooding in 2021.

Whether you "believe in" climate change or not, we are foolish if we fail to learn from the floods that have been happening and prepare for future floods (or fires or droughts or...  you get the idea).  Failing to plan for the future is the equivalent of sending the problem downstream for someone else to deal with.

“Forgive yourself for not knowing what you didn’t know before you learned it.”― Maya Angelou

And my own corollary to that?  Forgive others for not knowing as well and help them to learn it. 

Let's say for a moment that we all agree heavy rainfalls have happened and that more could certainly happen in the future.  So, what are the things that could be done that might alleviate this situation?

Clearly, our most common solution for far has been to "get the water AWAY from HERE."  In other words, we are passing the problem downstream to someone else for them to deal with it.  If we really want to be effective, we are going to have to make ourselves a bit uncomfortable and do some difficult things.  Things like taking acres out of row crop production and putting them into hayfields, wetlands and woodlands.  Some solutions will might mean some personal property is lost, production of commodity crops may not be the best option and perhaps even whole communities may need to be moved.  Any worthwhile solution is going to have its painful moments and are going to require some soul-searching and commitment.

But that isn't going to happen until we stop looking for someone to blame - we need to start looking for someone (many someones) to begin the work of adjustment and restoration.

A Personal View of What it Means to NOT Send It Downstream

I want to turn the focus of this post on to the things we think we need to do right now so we are not passing current Genuine Faux Farm problems downstream to a point where the problem is only bigger and badder - or just not "ours." 

1. I don't want to ignore a problem and pass it downstream to a later point in time if I can help it.  A known problem usually doesn't just go away - it tends to get more difficult to solve.
2. I don't wish to pass any of our problems/mistakes on to someone else.  Though I admit to being imperfect, so I am sure we'll make a few mistakes in the process that will result in someone else feeling some pain.  Sorry in advance.
3.  I hope that I can stay alert for unintended consequences that only result in passing things downstream.
4. There comes a point when a band-aid will not work.  If all you can do is a baling wire and duct tape solution, then that's what you have to do.  But, if you have a choice to do better, you should do that - even if it is frustrating, annoying, inconvenient and even ... painful.

Bringing It Home to the Genuine Faux Farm
As many of you know, we found ourselves trying to fix our old farm-kitchen a few years ago when it became apparent that it was falling apart and it needed to be done soon.  This was not a 'I hate the paint color and want different cabinets' thing.  This was a 'hey look - there's a hole developing in the floor' thing.

We could have 'band-aided' the whole thing by taking out the sink, the lower cabinets on one wall and the offending area of floor and fixing/replacing that.  But, there were a couple of underlying problems that were causing the rot issue.  One was that the plumbing was placed on a cold outer wall over a granite foundation.  The other was that the blown insulation from a prior generation was collecting moisture and causing rotting issues in the walls.  Without going much further into it, there were a host of other problems we could have covered up and passed that issue downstream to either a later version of ourselves or to some future owner.  We opted to do our best "in the now" in hopes that our choices were the right ones and there were a couple of times where the irritation of being delayed so we could just do it right was pretty high!

With the kitchen (mostly) done a few years later.  We still have to finish trim and the floor.  And, like any project in an old house, it has spread to other things.  

In 2019, we found ourselves looking at some big problems with our farm that we could no longer push downstream.  We realized as that season progressed that we had been applying band-aids for a few years just so we could continue to serve the demands of our Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program.  For those who do not know what that means - we ran a subscription program for fresh produce from 2005 to 2019.  During most of those years, we delivered for 32 weeks each season.  That meant we had 64 points in time each season where we needed to have a sufficient quantity and diversity of product to supply as many as 120 members with a good CSA product each time.

So, what exactly is the problem with that?

Well, if you are focused on doing whatever it takes to grow produce for the share program, when do you have time to address other issues that crop up over time? (I am not sorry for any puns, intentional or otherwise, that appear in my writing - so there).

This is where we found ourselves after fifteen seasons of running a successful CSA program.  A combination of changing weather patterns, chemical drift issues, and declining local food sales were forcing us to push too much downstream.  When you add in mounting crop failures due to excessive moisture you might understand how this could have an effect on the psyche of the farmers.  It is very difficult to feel successful when you are surrounded by so much failure.

One example of the issue is shown at the left.  This was one of our onion beds that was planted in June of 2019 (late for an onion crop).  Wet fields forced the delays in planting until we found we could wait no longer if we were hoping to get anything in.  That meant we had to till a bed when the soil was too wet.  This is bad for the overall health of the soil, so we hated to do it.  But, it isn't just bad for that reason.

Take a look at the 'pebbling' in the planted area.  Those 'pebbles' don't break down for most of the season.  The soil contact with the new transplants is inconsistent with this soil consistency, so transplant loss is often higher.  Cultivation, if it dries up enough to allow it, doesn't work so well either when you have all of these solid clumps, which means you often have to resort to hand weeding.

The good news - we actually got some nice onions anyway.  Why?  That's a topic for another post - maybe. 

I don't want this post to be all about the negatives, but it is important to get a better idea of the scope of the problem first.  The picture at the right shows one of our fields that had melons and winter squash planted into it.  We put down paper mulch in the planting rows in 2019, which was one of our responses to the wetter seasons.  If you can't cultivate, try to prevent weed growth with mulch.  And, to some extent this worked.  Until we started noticing our squash and melon plants showing signs of inhibited growth. 
 

You can't argue that the transplants were poor - these were some of the best we've put in over the last several years.  You could also argue that the wet conditions may have contributed to the issue.  But, the variable that may well have got us the most was the extended herbicide application range on the corn/soybean fields in the area.  Remember, dicamba drift does not have to come from next door, it can come from a couple of miles away in the right (wrong) conditions.  To make a long story less long, we harvested no melons from the two eastern plots that held them.  We harvested a single butternut squash and very few other winter squash. 

The signs were there that told us we had to change.  We could have changed what we are doing and do something else entirely or how we did what we were doing.  Maybe even a little of both.  But, the reality was that we could not work to find a solution without getting a bit uncomfortable. 

GFF, a few years later

It turned out that our efforts to make big change were well-timed and poorly timed.  Just as all such decisions are.  It depends on how you look at it.

From a growers perspective, the last three years have, on the whole, been much more amenable for the type of growing we had been doing on the farm - if you look at the weather.  Yes, 2021 had a late frost that killed some crops and a nasty storm in August that destroyed others.  But, overall, the weather conditions actually suited our heavier soils, the tools we have, our scale, and the things we grow/grew.

On top of that, the pandemic actually provided a spike in interest for local foods.  One that we missed because we set ourselves to scale down in 2020.

On the other hand, the timing could not have been better for us.  With the pandemic, we found that our access to workers dried up completely.  Our pipeline of college and high school students was gone and we weren't in a good position to find substitutes.  And, of course, as I suspected, the increase in local food demand in our area was probably more of a bubble that has, to a large extent, deflated in 2022.

And then, there are the health issues that have challenged us over the past two growing seasons.  With no workers and one or the other of us recovering from a major health concern - there was no way we could have done what we once did.

But, perhaps most importantly, I am beginning to fully realize that, perhaps, I passed something downstream that was beneficial.

You see, when I think about passing things downstream, I usually think about troublesome things like floodwaters, pesticides and contamination, and topsoil.  I think about failing to address problems and leaving them for another day.

Yet, I find that I might have passed something downstream that the current me in 2022 is just beginning to realize.  My love for growing things was being tarnished by what had become a slog through muddy fields.  And now, when each moment is not a desperate struggle to survive as a farm, I find the desire to grow returning.

The trick is to take the lessons passed downstream and use them wisely.