Tunnel Raising

It's a fun endeavor. We get the crew together and move through the fields putting these up. The prep work is slow-going, but once the skeleton comes together, it starts to look like something. The tunnels require a few good, tilled beds to span and dozens of pipes driven alongside them. The girls get the job of burying the corkscrew stakes that will hold the ropes, and the guys get to use some muscle hammering the pipes.

Whatever we use to form the ribs scares me. Ted says that he's never had one break, but I get nervous as I shimmy down them and they bend to get in place. Then, comes the plastic. It's usually windy on Windflower, so there's certainly resistance, but it is so much fun. Looks and feels like tying down the sails of a ship, especially when a storm moves in and all the plastic needs to be ties down. We run around like rats on a ship deck and secure everything while the rain and wind comes down.

Years ago, tunnels were a novel idea and messy to deal with. Weeds grew just as happily around them as the plants we put in them and if we bordered them with black plastic, it was terrible to clean up that fall. Back then, the crew was half what it is now, so it wasn't uncommon to be one of the only people disassembling the caterpillars. This year, we used some straw and a biodegradable plastic that disappears in one winter.

Potatoes

I love the color of the Rose Finn Apple potato. Makes me want to fry up some chips and admire the way they look. And that's a good thing. You absolutely may feed the workers on Windflower! If I don't eat it, everyone else will. Come to think of it, there isn't much that I won't eat.

We planted dozens of different potato varieties this year, some as lovely as the Rose Finn and others as classic as what you'd find in the grocery store. It took two days to cut all the seed potatoes and I am missing those afternoons in the sun, standing barefoot with my pants rolled up to my ankles just cutting them into sections. It's relaxing, but it wasn't always like that.

My second year at Windflower was when I first remember being a part of the potato action. It may have been the first year we ever grew them, I'm not sure, but I recall the several days we spent dragging plastic tubs of seed potatoes along the furrows just to plant them. (Transplanters were the best invention ever . . .) The tubs weighed more than one person could carry and there was no tractor that went by that evening to cover the furrows. It was all by hand back then. Imagine my appreciation for the new equipment.

It's my firm belief that newcomers to Windflower cannot fully appreciate the comfort we have in our tasks. It still seems hard, but it really could be (and was once) harder.

Check out the poll at the side of the page if you know anything about potato planting.

The Corkboard

It hangs in the greenhouse when we start our year, and then in the barn once we've uprooted for the harvest time. It's technically the center of our universe as cliche as that sounds, but what else could I say about the framed slab of cork that holds our time sheets, waves our paychecks in front of us, and collects all the pictures and notes about what the weekend has in store. If there's a job assignment for everyone, that's posted there as well, so the title for this blog seemed appropriate.

This is the corkboard on the web, serving the same function as the one hanging in our barn. Anyone who wants to know what's going on or have a glimpse at farm life can come here. It's something that ties people together and I'd even guess that anyone reading this has some coffee nearby. If not, get some and make this corkboard yours. Ask questions, leave us a note about city life (something we make conjectures about as if it were a different planet), or tell us your stories.

Planted

This is a warm spring. Over the few days of the weekend the tomato plants in the greenhouse have taken over the walkways. Nothing can wait to be planted, but it’s risky business. As soon as we feel safe, the frosts will come a final time and ruin any hard work we are eager to do. But we have been planting mustard greens and choi. Bed by bed, the fields are filling up. They stand for our success like stripes on a military uniform, and we wear them proudly.

This week, we had a three-man planting team on the four seat transplanter. With four rows of plants per bed, it was tough work. Not to mention, a valve broke on the water tank and was spewing all over once the tractor got to the field. There was nothing to plug it, so we lost half the water before a new valve was found. Then, it rained. That shouldn’t be the normal kind of planting day through the season, but who can say?

I remember worse years, where hail cracked windshields and storms we weren't supposed to get came right over us without warning. That panicky feeling isn't something I'll forget easily. The June before of 2004 brought a storm to my family's house just five miles down the road from Windflower. The winds were near to ninety miles an hour. The hail that fell was two inches in diameter and sounded like machine gun bullets coming through my bedroom windows. It was terrifying. That was before I came to Windflower.

It was one year later that I found an ad in the tiny local newspaper for a vegetable farm worker. There was no phone number and i remember feeling bummed because I needed a job while my husband was away at boot camp. The next week, the ad was still there and the phone number had appeared. I had lunch with the Blomgrens a few days later and joined the crew of four. We had around two hundred shareholders.