Tag Archives: 2008

June 2008

Monday, June 23, 2008 – The potatoes are flowering

The grass in the backyard (aka 6 acres of pasture) was getting really long, so Brock decided to ask our neighbour Don Fisher to cut it with his tractor rather than trying to mow it with our ride-on lawn tractor. The result: 536 bales of organic first-cut hay, which we’d sold within 48 hours for $5/bale to a variety of horse-owners, hay dealers and cattle ranchers. Who knew we could make money from letting our lawn grow??

The tractor and Don did most of the work – Don has a network of regular customers who buy the hay he bales – but Brock and I helped the customers load their hay, and that was tiring work. It was also REALLY cool to watch the baler, which somehow picks up the loose cut hay, mashes it into a big brick, and ties it up with baling twine before pooping it out the back.

This parable is just one more example of how we’re still learning. Another is the fact that our potato plants are now flowering, which is the weirdest idea since purple carrots. Apparently it’s a normal stage in the potato-growing process, but I can’t get over it. Potatoes grow UNDERGROUND. Everyone knows that. So Barbara Kingsolver blew my mind when she revealed they actually grow green leaves above ground, like normal plants, and Brock finished the job with his news the other day that the potatoes had started flowering. Pretty, purple flowers.

In other news: our Harvest Box Program starts next week! We’ve signed up 12 or so families, mostly either employees of Island Savings or members of our BNI (Business Networkers International) chapter. We expect to have strawberries, lettuce, peas, maybe zucchinis, and garlic scapes (they grow out of the tops of the garlic plants, and you’re supposed to pick them to improve the garlic bulb. They taste like garlic). Our first farmer’s market is this Saturday, and we’re excited since our strawberries are just starting to ripen in multiple-pint quantities.

Perhaps the greatest development on the farm these days is that our home is (almost) finished. My brother Joe is a journeyman carpenter, and he’s been staying with us while finding an apartment and work in Victoria. He sided our house, did the soffits and gutters, and helped pour (and stamp) concrete patios in the front and back. He also built me a huge farm stand for the front area.

Also: my parents, sister and nephew are visiting us this week. Nephew Hollis rode his John Deere around and we loaded it with peas, strawberries, and wild flowers (aka weeds). The adults, meanwhile, are mostly impressed with the stevia. Dad likes the conspiracy theories about how Dick Cheney and the aspartame lobby had stevia outlawed by the FDA, while mom and aunt Sylvia just like the idea of a plant that tastes like sugar.

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Wednesday, June 25, 2008 – Organic farming sucks

Firstly: HAPPY BIRTHDAY Q!!! I can’t believe you’re almost 30. I’d call to wish you a happy birthday, but the elderly need their rest.

Secondly: Organic farming sucks. We picked strawberries from the rows yesterday, to prepare the plants for our Saturday market. (The forecast calls for days of sunshine, so we’re hoping for a big-ish crop.) It was so depressing. We did get about 2-3 pints of perfect berries, suitable for sale, but most were mutant, or too small, or had been sampled by bugs. I can understand why farmers back in the ’50s or whatever were so excited to be offered chemical solutions to their pest and unpredictable-crop woes. I’ve heard from 1,000 people that farming “is hard work,” but the fact is that farming is apparently “hard work with little reward.” How tempting to know that hybrid plants and a regular dose of pesticides would leave me with millions of perfect red berries!

Before I contact a realtor and put our farm up for sale, however, I intend to maintain patience as the season progresses. Brock assures me that the first crop of first-year strawberries can be disappointing, until they figure out how to do their strawberry thing. And we can try a variety of chemical-free pest control strategies — beer traps for slugs, et cetera.

What I have learned from this: if I charge you $5 for a pint of perfect, organically-grown, best-you’ve-ever-eaten, still-warm-from-the-sun field strawberries, it’s worth every penny.

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Sunday, June 29, 2008 – People like us, they really do

We had our first ever day at the Duncan Farmers Market yesterday, and we did WAY better than we expected, considering our minimal crops (due to weather, organic pest control and 1st year learning curve, et cetera). People were so friendly and supportive, and we met more than one young couple who wants to get into farming or have just started farming. Very inspirational and exciting, considering the vast demand out there for organic, local products!

Aside from our successful day (coincidentally also the hottest day of the year so far – whew), the highlight was definitely meeting Tara and Cameron, a young couple who live in Vancouver with their dog, Rex. They’re interested in starting their own farm and came to the Island for a four day “farm honeymoon” to meet farmers and test out the community vibe. We met them at the farmer’s market and invited them to visit us in the afternoon so they could see our farm, and during our subsequent 2.5 hour visit Brock and I fell in love with them. Aside from being Good & Nice People, they are as interested in all the weird “food” stuff that we are — Tara even knew about how mainstream carrots used to be purple, red and white before the Dutch got their hands on them. They’ve been reading the same self-sufficiency books and had visited/worked on the hops farm in Sorento where we bought our hops this year. They actually opted to drink our well water when we sat out on the patio — they love well water, compared to the processed city water they’re used to. They were so poetic about well water “keeping you in touch with your farm” and being “natural” that Brock and I have almost been converted ourselves. We’re excited to see them again. I can’t wait to hear what they think of Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.

In the evening we went to Ladysmith for a decadent seafood feast prepared by my sister Evy. It was exactly the right way to spend an evening after the farmer’s market, drinking wine and being fed amazing food. My family has gone back to Invermere as of this morning, so Brock and I are once again empty-nesters.

Today I decided to christen our farm gate stand, so I set up a shady area, made a sign, and picked five pints of beautiful, sun-hot strawberries. Brock just went to check on the shade situation at the stand, and we’ve already sold a pint. I made $5 while sunbathing on the back porch and drinking iced tea.

Yes, about that.

New favourite thing about living on our farm: nudity. I’ve always wanted to lie in the sun buck naked without having to watch for neighbours. I can now do that. The best part is that I don’t even feel guilty about lolling in the sun on a beautiful Sunday instead of working, because it’s WAY TOO HOT to work in the fields today. Picking five pints of strawberries almost killed me. It’s 30-degrees already and expected to rise. Also, I’ve already made $5 and will likely make more.

And now: I think I will upload our new website . . . . give me about thirty minutes . . . www.makariafarm.com.

May 2008

Tuesday, May 6, 2008 – I have hops

Our hops arrived today!!!! I was so excited to read about the looming/current hops shortage, what with the 10 acres of land we have sitting around, waiting to be planted. So I researched and called brew pubs and googled, and found out that there’s a farm in Sorrento (the Okanagan) that sells organic hops. Sweet. Poison-free AND sorta local. So I ordered four roots (they’re called rhizomes) and wrote my cheque and waited.

The thing about hops is: we’re running out. The world, that is. There’s a huge shortage looming/happening due to weird weather (ahem climate change ahem), and so all the big breweries like Coors and Molson and whatnot have bought up all the hops supplies for the next millenium. That leaves all the smaller breweries stranded and hop-less. Poor Vancouver Island Brewers. Poor Spinnakers. Poor Swans. What’s a local-beer drinker to do?? And therein lies my future fortune. Sort of. Funny thing about hops is that you can make $20,000+ per acre, but it costs about the same to get your acre planted, trellised, deer-fenced and irrigated. It’s like starting a winery. Not exactly a manageable hobby for a strawberry/vegetable farmer with a day job.

So my four rhizomes are a compromise. I will get them established (hopefully), and when they’re harvestable in a few years I might be able to supply one of my favourite local brewers. Or we can brew our own beer, and serve it to unsuspecting farm guests.

Be warned.

Happy rabbits pose like roadkill. Peter and Delilah love their outdoor home!

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Saturday, May 10, 2008 – Letting go of the babies

I’ve raised over 100 tomato plants from seed, and it’s time to plant them in the ground. I forgot about this stage. I became used to smelling their hot tomato smell when I visited our greenhouse, or transferred a baby plant from its 4-inch pot to a gallon tub at my potting table outside. I liked sitting on the couch, playing crib with Brock, and looking up to see that new yellow flowers had appeared on one of our in-home babies.

Last night Brock said he wanted to plant some of the tomatoes in the rows, since he was planting garlic and they’re companion plants. It was a difficult decision: stay inside and drink wine after a day of work, or take responsibility for the infants I’d brought into this world, and be with them when they left the safety of the greenhouse for the cold, hard reality of life in the fields. I reluctantly changed clothes and selected 10 plants to risk — all Early Girls, the only hybrid we’re growing. If I’m going to lose a plant, it’ll be my least favourite.

Planting went well, and today we decided to plant five more along our deer fence, since they’ll need the trellis support. I went for the Gardener’s Delight variety today: they’re vine tomatoes, and getting a little too floppy for their gallon pots. I planted with love, velcroed them to the trellis, and watered them well.

Also: a statement that I might revisit later this season, once my plants are actually producing tomatoes: I didn’t plant enough. Next year I’ll plant 10 or more varieties, instead of this year’s 6. Is it possible to have too many tomatoes?

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Sunday, May 11, 2008 – Stupidly happy

I realized recently that, if things go as planned, I will be (once again) repotting tomatoes, soliciting box program customers, mixing vermiculite & peat moss for new seeds, and living a dirt-under-the-fingernails life this time next year. And the year after. And the year after. Etc.

The thought excited me. I’ll get another season (and another, and another) to choose my tomato varieties! To mix planting mix with my hands in the weekend sunshine! To eat spinach straight from the raised bed, then peppermint, then a leaf of stevia just for the hell of it! And it will (knock on wood) just get better, adding future kids and an established farm infrastructure to the picture.

Farmer Brock, chillin’ under the apple trees, with our as-yet-undeveloped farm behind him.

I’m so happy with this life that it makes me want to cry. Or maybe that’s the wine. I don’t mean to be obnoxious. I’m sure some/many of you are not this happy, and I don’t want you to hate me for finding my niche. I know most of you would NOT be happy with dirt under your nails and an unwashed farmer sharing your bed, or the uncertainty of a Vancouver Island mortage (aka way too high), or working from sunrise to sunset in the dirt.

And I would NEVER have suspected that I would respond so well to this life. I never liked dirt very much. Or bugs. My parents patiently built me a trellis and garden (they even brought in growable soil, since ours was poor) when I was a teenager: I grew pretty flowers, but lost interest when the aphids ate my peas and never really understood the concept of “watering.”

But whadyaknow, this life is giving me the happiest days I’ve ever had. My weekend wishlist has become: transplant tomatoes, plant seeds, sit with the bunnies for awhile, dig out pestilant thistles. If I had a spare hour, I would . . . harvest nettles and make soup. What the heck has happened to me??

Fact: in the past 48 hours, my hands have touched aged sheep manure, a slug, and numerous worms. I’ve also killed a wireworm by pulling it apart with my fingers — the only sure way to destroy the beasts. All in all, not the preferred way to spend a weekend. For most people

Me, staining siding.

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Wednesday, May 28, 2008 – Random updates from the homestead

Being the capitalist entrepreneurial organic farmers that we are, we have a variety of schemes in mind to fund our farm life.

Firstly: roadside sales. We intend to exploit our primo location by offering farmgate sales of strawberries, corn, pumpkins, and whatever vegetables we have around. We’re so close to the Trans-Canada, and on the Dinter nursery / Whippletree Junction / golf course circuit, that we already get 1 vehicle per minute passing by our gate. Imagine what will happen when we’re offering fresh, field-grown organic strawberries . . .

Secondly: our Harvest Box program. We printed up 20 brochures and handed them out to a few people, and before we knew what had happened we had 13 families signed up to receive a weekly box of seasonal veggies.

Thirdly: sales to local restaurants, B&Bs, etc.

Oh! And fourthly, our Saturday booth at the Duncan Farmers Market. Almost forgot about that one. We start our booth June 28.

We were joking about being “SINKs on the Farm,” since Brock is now a full-time farmer and doesn’t have a weekly paycheque, but what with the enthusiastic response to our box program I think we’re safe keeping this domain name.

Maybe “FINKs on the Farm” (Farming Income, No Kids) . . .

ANYhoo. In other news, I’ve planted out almost all our melons. I didn’t know we could grow melons here, but Brock’s parents did back when they had their farm. I don’t even really like melons, but it’s pretty cool to think I can grow them. I’m planting the melons, tomatoes (all vining varieties) and cucumbers along our 10-foot high deer fence, which will hopefully act as a trellis and support massive fruit production. I also have my four hops varieties along the fence — and they’re up now, by the way! Exciting.

My brother Joe is visiting us these days. He’s a journeyman carpenter (age 24 – impressive) and is finishing our house for us: siding, soffits, gutters, patio and pergola in the back. He’s been crazy productive — until today, when he discovered Facebook. I noticed the other day, when we were eating BBQ burgers, that the things which fascinate me and Brock are actually quite boring to normal people. For example: our lilac cuttings are budding. The walnut tree finally blossomed. There’s a potato growing in our worm compost. All things that deserve discussion over dinner in a farm house . . . Poor Joe. If the family-discounted labour in the 25-degree heat doesn’t force him out, the crop productivity reports certainly will.

My little brother Joe, journeyman carpenter and overall good egg.

Having Joe around has also introduced us to David Allen Coe, a racist country singer from the Good Ol’ Days. We listen to him while staining the cedar board & battan siding for the house, and hum his songs incessently. Our favourite lines:

Where bikers stare at cowboys,
Who are laughin’ at the hippies
Who are prayin’ they’ll get out of here alive . . .
‘Cause my long hair just can’t cover up my redneck . . .

Classic.