| April,
2005. This seems to be the time of the year
I find myself waking up in the middle of the night, sweating
over the first field plantings and wondering how anything
in the garden will actually make it to harvest. One groundhog
can level a patch of baby broccoli in a couple of hours, meandering
from plant to plant and nibbling off precious first leaves.
This happened last season to my pac choi and it threw me into
shock, losing so much work so quickly. A flock of birds can
make off with half the pea seeds in a morning, and this also
happened last year. So now we have floating row cover to protect
newly seeded beds, and the electric fence is running, but
it’s still difficult to feel at ease.
Our first real bout with poor germination of seeds in the
greenhouse has us over-seeding every flat we start. The compost
is not as finished as I had hoped. Our irrigation setup needs
an overhaul. And the list of concerns continues, topped off
by the areas of sod pasture we must convert to garden this
year. Why didn’t we do that last fall? I look back at
the off-season and wonder if we used our time wisely and why
we didn’t plan more carefully or get organized enough
to make our spring a smoother ride.
The questions of why we put ourselves through this farm frenzy
begin to surface. Those doubts about our ability to farm I
refrain from acknowledging until they are really forceful
and permeate the air. That’s when friends come to the
rescue, particularly those farming veterans who have mastered
the art of handling stress. They tell me two basic things:
First, farming is hands down one of the most stressful professions
out there, so I must realize that every other farmer is in
the same boat, and that none of us is alone. Knowing this
helps me settle down.
Second, you learn more than you think each season, but you
don’t notice it because your focus is on the next mountain
of farming activity and knowledge. It’s important to
acknowledge that you are making progress, and it’s not
uncommon to make the same mistakes multiple times. It can
take several seasons, including a couple tough-weather ones,
to develop that deeper knowledge of how and when to do what.
So I must just keep on going and do my best.
Last year we were a couple of weeks behind on just about
everything, and now it seems we’re about a week behind.
Last season we had no on-farm compost; this year we have heaping
piles of unfinished stuff. Last year we waited until emergency
situations to ask for help; this year we have a couple assistants
working with us for most of the season. And we start an hour
earlier. A little at a time, I suppose.
|
