Frosty Reflections

Cold weather has been threatening to show up in Oregon for a while now. Last weekend was supposed to bring us chilly rain with possible snow in the Coast Range, but instead Saturday turned out to be one of those crisp autumn days that are all the more precious for being so rare. Lots of blue sky, fluffy white clouds and sunshine. As long as you kept moving, it was fairly warm.

After a hearty breakfast in our uninsulated old farmhouse, we kept moving, and thus got a lot done: greenhouse clearing out, dead plant tossing, final grass mowing of the season, and a number of other late season chores that are always much more pleasant to do when it's sunny outside. A huge moon was rising between the trees as we walked back up to the house in the late afternoon twilight, the clear sky telling us what the next morning was likely to bring: the first hard frost of the season. We were not disappointed.

It's always a bit disconcerting to wake up to a frosty white landscape, even when it's expected. I keep thinking of all the things we still have to get done outside: harvest the last of the tomatoes in the greenhouse, dig up the dahlias that we really don't want to risk loosing, weed and mulch the lavender and other perennial herbs, board up the broken windows in the barn and old chicken house, and keep our fingers crossed that this winter will be reasonably free of severe storms and deep freezes, knowing we need to prepare for them just in case.

I'm sure we will get most of those things done, eventually. Hopefully before it's too late.

Time Sure Does Fly...

I'm not sure where the time goes these days. It just seems to vanish in great chunks, leaving me wondering if I'm suffering from some form of selective amnesia. I could swear that yesterday it was mid-October, and we were just getting back from our fun adventure in the Big City of Portland at the Friends of Family Farmers inFARMation event. Which went great, by the way, and thanks to everyone who turned out for it. I was deeply nervous, and it was tremendously disconcerting to see our little slide show movie thing projected on a huge wall, with my voice booming out over Holocene's way too good sound system, but it ended up being quite fun. The next day we managed to find our way across town to the always wonderful Naomi's Organic Farm Supply shop, where we picked up yet more cover crop seed and chatted with Naomi and Neil, Naomi's charming mother, and with some inspiring young farmers, one of whom was in a tragic rental situation that made us both shudder at the remembered stress of those uncertain farming conditions. My heart really went out to her. We were both reminded of how fortunate we have been to purchase a bit of land we might actually be able to call our own in thirty years or so.

Maybe it's because of our own struggle to buy land, but this issue resonates with me like no other, and I want to live to see the day when aspiring to buy land to farm is a reasonable goal for a young farmer, not a seemingly impossible pipe dream.

What do Farming and Mardi Gras Beads have in common?

Meanwhile, an amazing opportunity had fallen on my head. I, along with two other young farmers from Oregon, had been given scholarships (made possible by the Risk Management Agency of the USDA) to attend the Community Food Security Coalition's national conference in mid-October. Shelly Bowe from Food Roots in Tillamook made the scholarship connections for us, and I cannot thank her enough for putting me on this path to such a great experience.

My fellow travelers were Ginger, of R-evolution Gardens in Nehalem, (on the right) and Kim, from Gales Meadow Farm in Forest Grove (on the left). This year's event took place in New Orleans, which meant cross country red-eye journeys for all of us. Can I just say that trying to find the way to my departure gate at the Los Angeles airport was one of the most confusing, surreal and frustrating travel experiences of my life? And I have been through some weird airports in my time. If Dante's vision of Hell had included bad fluorescent lighting, complete lack of informational signage, deeply unhelpful staff, freezing cold air conditioning and a disconcerting array of processed food meal options, scholars would claim he had been visited by futuristic visions of LAX.

I don't think it was just bleary-eyed exhaustion that gave New Orleans such an otherworldly glow for me- it is unlike any place I have ever been to. It makes me realize what a vast and diverse country this is. The culture there is so unique that it hardly feels like you are in the United States at all, although I'm sure a native of New Orleans would feel much the same way if they were dropped down in Astoria, Oregon. For me, New Orleans was all a blur of warm air, lively music and slow talk, colorful old buildings, smog and noise, way too much fried food, and the sense that I left not really having seen the place at all, especially as I sadly didn't arrive early enough to go on any of the tours that went to the parts of the city still recovering from the disaster of the hurricane.

I was able to attend the closing reception, which I have to say the host committee put on in great style. They arranged for a brass band to lead all of the conference attendees (draped in a startling assortment of colorful Mardi Gras beads) in what I believe is called a Second Line parade down some of the main streets of the city to the French Market, where a very tasty assortment of Cajun food was available to sample. It was definitely one of the more surreal experiences of my life, and gives me great respect for the exuberance and high spirits of the citizens of New Orleans. Those people are crazy in the best possible way. I'm curious to see what the city of Oakland, CA (next year's hosts) can do to top that reception.

Although so much of what I did see was unforgettable, such as the above nighttime tour of a local community garden reached by ferry and a stroll through some fascinating old neighborhoods, for the most part we could have been virtually anywhere and I would have had a phenomenal time. I was one of almost a thousand people all gathered together to talk about Food: local food, food security, farms and farmers, farm to schools and institutions, community food, urban farms, rural farms, local food economics, farmers markets, food sovereignty, access to food, food safety, food policy, and how to make any and all of the above work better for all of us. It was a bit overwhelming, but in a good way.

The weirdest part for me was being one of not very many farmers present. Weird because so much of the discussion was about the production of food and how to make fresh, safe food more available to more people, yet there were times when I was the only actual farmer in the room. In one memorable workshop, the first speaker was asking the group about themselves:

"Raise your hands if you are with a community food system organization. NGOs? Farmers market associations? Urban farm organizations? If you work with farmers?" and so on down the list. I kept waiting for him to say "Farmers?" so that I could raise my hand, but he never did. He just launched straight into the discussion, all about 'Credit and Capital for a Just and Sustainable Food System'. A great panel of people explored the seemingly insurmountable problems facing farmers and fishermen when they try to get loans or other funding for land acquisition, fishing permits, equipment purchases and operating loans. Example after example of the problems were given. Although it was inspiring to hear about the work of groups like the Mississippi Association of Cooperatives, the Northwest Atlantic Marine Alliance and Food for Maine's Future, no one seemed to have a practical answer to the question that came up over and over again throughout the conference, one that I was well familiar with:

"How do we get more young farmers onto farmable land, producing fresh, healthy food for local communities?"

I have to say, for me one of the best parts of that particular workshop came from Scott Marlow, of Rural Advancement Foundation International, whose comments finally helped me understand just why we could not get a loan from a bank as long as we put ourselves forward as farmers. Banks, he informed us, really only care about assured income, and what they can get out of you if you fail. You can have the best business plan in the world, loads of experience, lots of customers and countless plans for how you are going to make it all work, but if you have no assured income- which for a bank looks pretty much like a paycheck- then they won't be interested in funding you.

"The best thing a beginning farmer who wants to buy land can do," Mr. Marlow observed, "is go out and get a job."

Finally, we got something right! How you're supposed to run the farm and work the full time paycheck jobs that pay your mortgage is still mysterious and elusive though.

However, he went on to say that the two best ways for a start up farm to fail are to finance things on credit cards and not not have health insurance, so actually we're only one out of three in the smart young farmer stakes. We do recognize the wisdom of what he says, and are working to address both those issues, but it is a challenge when start up costs are fierce, agricultural loans are near impossible to obtain and health insurance rates... well let's just not go there.

"What does it say about a system when it contains no margin for ownership costs?" Mr. Marlow asked, and what I think it says is that we as a society do not appreciate or understand the real costs that go in to producing our food, nor do we factor in what it costs us to pay for the health consequences of our current food system. Until we do, we are doomed to depend upon the incredibly broken system we have right now, one that makes it cheaper to eat processed, sugar and additive filled foods that travel thousands of miles to get to us and end up making us ill rather than eat fresh food from the farm down the road.

There were so many inspiring speakers at this conference, and so many amazing people that I met in the hallways in between talks, or chatting to over breakfast. I came away sobered at the challenges that we face in this country (and in the world, really) to try and find new, healthier ways to feed ourselves and keep our communities strong. But I also left with a great sense of hope- there are so many creative ideas out there, so many people working on the problems, so much determination to change our broken systems and replace them with healthy farms, strong local food systems, robust local economies and respect- for the land, for ourselves, and for each other.

It's easy to get tired and discouraged about trying to bring our farm to life and figure out how to make it all work, but experiences like this help to revive me, and keep me going. I am more excited than ever about our future, even if I don't exactly know where we are going, or how we will get there.

My proofreader Packy tells me that this blog entry is a "rather serious" one, and I know it's a long one as well. So if you've stuck with me this far, I promise to do a couple of 'heavy on the pictures and amusing stories' posts very soon. It's mighty cold in the Oregon countryside right now, and outside work is not very tempting anyway.

I'm glad I got some garlic planted earlier before all this super cold weather really kicked in. . I know, I know, it's really mostly just been hail with a smattering of ice, but if you squint, it looks sort of like snow... I really wish I'd gotten my dahlias dug up before all this hit. Oh Well.

A lot of farming is learning to accept what the weather throws at you, adapt and figure out how to keep moving forwards, hopefully without sliding off the road first.

One nice thing about frosty weather, it gives me the best excuse to stay inside by the fire with the new seed catalogs, making lists and planning for spring.

Living with The Rain

If there is one defining characteristic about the Northwest region of the United States, especially on the coast, it is this:  it rains a lot here.  This is both good and bad, from a farmer's perspective. We save a lot on irrigation, for one thing. And our often foggy coastal climate makes this an ideal place to grow things that like it on the cooler side.  Leafy greens, salad greens, your cool weather loving brassicas- we have a great relationship.  The heat lovers like tomatoes and basil?  We struggle in our dealings with one another, but as long as we are both willing to compromise (I give them a greenhouse to live in, they don't complain too much about the acidic soil), we manage to work things out.

Rain in the kind of quantity we receive it can be challenging, but we have found ways to deal with it that are helping to make growing things here easier.   The first obstacle to really successful vegetable and flower gardening is that our soil here is very acidic, because of the heavy rainfall.  Some of our soil on the farm tested at 4.6 ph when I first dug into it- that is a long way from the 6.5-7.0 range that most vegetables and herbs prefer.  So the first thing you learn about in the Northwest is lime. 

 "Lime sweetens the soil" is a phrase you hear a lot around here.  I've often wondered, why sweet?  Is it because sweet is the opposite of acid?  Anyway, what lime does is raise the ph level in the soil. It makes the soil less acidic, and contributes calcium to the soil, which is essential for healthy plant growth. This does not happen overnight, it takes years to really shift your soil's ph level. And then, you have to remain vigilant because, just like compost and other fertilizers, the stuff breaks down, plants absorb it, it all gets used up and then it is gone and you're back to acid again.  Lime actually takes a long time to break down and become available to plants, which is why Fall is the best time to apply it.  By the time Spring rolls around, and the plants are waking up and reaching around in the soil for calcium and other minerals, the lime has done its work and the plants are much happier.

There are two main types of commercially available lime:

Agricultural lime

Agricultural lime is finely crushed limestone, pure calcium carbonate.  It is a very fine grey-white powder; do not mistake it for powdered sugar. Or anything else, for that matter.  This is the most widely available lime, and the cheapest. It also breaks down and is absorbed fastest.

 Prilled Dolomite lime

Dolomite lime comes from dolomite rock, naturally, and contains magnesium in addition to calcium.  This is good if your soil needs magnesium, which many northwest soils do. (Heavy rain leaches out everything. Except slugs, damn it.)  It is often available in a prilled form, which means the powder is formed into small pellets by a process known as 'prilling'.  An interesting word, and one which I have not yet been able to find an origin for.  I mean, why 'prill'?  Is that the sound the material makes when you roll it into little balls?  I cannot help but be curious.

So, prilled Dolomite lime is just easier to spread than the powdered form.  It is usually more expensive (more processing) but I think it is worth the cost if you can afford it, as it is so much less annoying to use.  Some people only use dolomite lime, but if your soil has enough magnesium, you can actually make it toxic to your plants by adding more. 

One of the best explanations I have read about The Lime Issue, especially as it applies to us here in the northwest, is in the classic 'Growing Vegetables West of the Cascades', by Steve Solomon.  He recommends using a half and half blend of the two limes mixed into a regular fertilizer blend.  However, before you go dumping huge amount of lime on your garden, I really recommend getting a soil test done.  This is not a hard thing to do, but it does involve a wee bit of time and expense.  Your local extension office can help you do it right, and help you understand what the hell it all means when you get back the results.  Soil tests are not just for farmers!  If you are a home gardener, and if you plan to build a long term relationship with your garden, it is very helpful to understand the soil you are working with.  That way you know more accurately how much fertilizer or organic matter it actually needs added to it.  More is not always better, in fact it rarely is.  Get a soil test.  Trust me, it's worth it.

After the lime, the next best thing to do in the Fall to deal with the effects of the rain is sow a cover crop. This is really only for those beds where you grow spring and summer annuals, and where the beds lay dormant in the winter.  I have learned the hard way that our  heavy rains wash away a lot of soil, and those carefully built up beds can be eroded and beaten down, as well as full of winter germinating weeds, by the time I am poking my head out the door in March to see if it is warm enough to sow peas.  

Cover crops are also known as green manures; they are a crop that you grow just to chop down and dig into the soil.  Essentially, you are growing your own compost.  However, while the crop is growing it is also doing a lot of other things, like reducing soil compaction and erosion and, if the crop is a deep rooted one, helping to loosen heavy soils and improve the soil's tilth.  Cover crops can also help to capture nitrogen and other nutrients that would be washed away by the heavy rain; these are returned to the soil in the spring when you chop down the cover crop and dig it in.

Our usual blend- rye, vetch and peas

There are a lot of things out there to use as cover crop.  One of the most popular in our area is crimson clover, but as the whole point of a cover crop is that you don't let it go to seed, it is a hard one for me to use, as you have to chop it down just as it is looking its most beautiful. We use a combination of rye, vetch and winter peas, and it seems to do the trick for us, and I can joyfully hack down in the spring with no regrets. 

I am hoping someday to have a patch of ground where I can just sow the crimson clover and let it re-seed over and over, as I love to see those deep garnet-red flowers swaying about in spring. On the 'someday having a patch of ground' issue, which I really don't want to talk about anymore for a while, the latest in our Looking for a New Farm ongoing saga is that we are pretty much on hold.  It is a combination of lack of appropriate land at a price that makes using it for a farm realistic, with a  big dash of 'Loaning Money to Small Farms in an Uncertain Economy' Fear from banking institutions.  We actually had a very good meeting with the USDA Farm Loan agent, but in the end we can't apply for a loan from them if we can't find a piece of land that can be farmed, that we can afford.  So we are still looking.  There is possibly another creative option in the works, but I can't talk about it, because it is very uncertain.  Fortunately, we have the option to go through another growing season on the farm we are on now, so while it may not be the ideal solution, it is at least a solution that keeps us farming for now.  There will at the very least be heirloom tomato plants and flower bouquets next year, and probably much more than that.

To follow up on my last post, wherein the possible addition of a new farm crew member was discussed, it has now been made official, as we were unable to locate anyone who wanted to claim the little cat we found.  We struggled with what to name her- all the names we have tossed about over the years for what we would name a new cat if we had one just didn't seem to work for her. And we couldn't keep calling her 'Squeaky Cat', as that just seemed too ridiculous a name.  Then one day Packy was listening to our Blind Pilot cd, and decided that she should be named 'Jojo', after a reference in one of their songs. (Blind Pilot is a  band co-founded by our friend Israel Nebeker- we both like them very much, which is unusual as our musical taste does not always overlap.)  'Jojo' met all of the requirements- easy to remember, snappy, cute- but not too cute, and so on.  But it still felt like a nickname, so we thought we would call her Josephine, and Jojo for short.  And after all of that dithering, we find that what we actually call her most of the time is still 'Squeaky'.  So be careful with those first nicknames- they can really stick. Come to think about it, that's how Packy ended up being called Packy, so I suppose it's a family tradition.

 Squeaky and Eddie negotiating hunting rights on a newly cleared hillside

So Jojo Squeaky is doing much better after several very expensive trips to the vet, and the consumption of a lot of cat food.   We have yet to have her fixed even, that is next on the shopping list. She is a very expensive free pet, but fortunately is quite charming and affectionate, which goes some way to make up for the drain on the farm finances.   She likes to sleep by the fire a lot, (who doesn't, this time of year?)  and then explode and chase things, and then sleep more.  Eddie is getting used to her, and for the most part she is fitting in fine. 

Unfortunately when she does venture outside, she rather likes to hunt, and has very proudly brought in several field mice, some that were as big as her head.  It would be ok if she just brought them in and displayed them for approval, but she is not so far off from fending for herself in the great outdoors, and so has a tendency to start to eat them, which just gets disgusting.  Immediate intervention is desirable. Now that the weather has turned chilly, I am hopeful that the snakes will be hibernating more, as she also brought in a couple of those while Packy was out of town recently, and I really do not do well with snakes. I mean, I love them in the garden, I know they are great pest control, I admire them when they are sunning themselves on the rocks, but I      just  cannot   pick    them   up   with    my     bare    hands.  Not sure what it is- they move too fast?  Too slimy?   There ended up being some creative work with a bamboo stick, a dustpan and a re-useable grocery bag that did the trick.  It is nice to have a good division of labor on a farm, and Packy makes a fine head of the farm's 'Wildlife Rescue/Release and Dead Animal Clean Up' department. He just may not ever be allowed to leave town again.

It is a frosty morning here on the farm- the last couple of nights have been clear and cold, with barely a sliver of moon showing in the sky.  It is in its final waning stages, and will be new again on Thanksgiving, a somehow appropriate bit of timing.  I am always thankful to the moon for gently reminding me that everything moves in cycles, and that when you are working with nature, it is best to respect its pace, and not try to impose your own upon it.  

One of our very favourite seasonal cycles has come around again here on the farm, as coho salmon have begun to return to Neawanna Creek.  But I will leave that story for next time.

Fortunately we love lettuce, because lettuce loves the Northwest Coast