A lush, beautiful snow falls today, hiding the impending signs of spring that a-wait just around the corner, instilling relaxation in the quiet white charm of Chelsea Morning Farm. The snow is good for the sugar maples, good for the dry landscape we entered winter with. It is good for our psyche; so much to prepare and do for the growing season that time, whether real or simply perceived by a winter made a bit longer with another snowfall, is a blessing. The list is mounting, spring is almost here and with it, a flurry of activity as we prep for the flow of sap, the birth of seeds, the thaw of land, the welcoming back to water as ice sheets no longer impose danger to a boy and his boat. But not yet! Today, we hunker in and relish another snowfall. Today, time slows down. Or does it...
It is a wet snow, the taste of mist in the air. As we walked in the midnight clear, the snowfall done, the landscape a serene and utterly quiet loveliness that brings pause to all the unspoken life questions, we are aroused by the clean, moist scent of water mixed with mud, soil coming alive as the frost slowly moves out of the earth, moving quickly to the scent of trees soon to bud, life emerging from winter dormancy; a rich, damp and undeniably alive scent. There is darkness to the winter yet, but spring is moving in, adding voice to the earthy darkness. Time is not slowing down; our clocks spring ahead. A quickening is before us as we prepare. Our list is long.
It is an exciting, if not overwhelming time, for the farm. We order seeds, contemplating new, improved varieties and added diversity. Will our soil handle our new crop choices, Sorrenti broccoli-raab, Golden Nugget squash, Antohi Romanian peppers, Vitaeverda cauliflower, Drunken Woman Frizzy Headed lettuce (how could we deny a name like that)? Will our season be long enough to ripen the Blacktail Mountain watermelons, an heirloom variety of high-altitude Idaho, a season with similar constraints to our own? Will the new Defiant tomato defy our landscape, a farm of the far north, or will they defy us? We enter every season with the same questions, the same concerns. We farm on the edge. We farm with faith. We enter each season wiser from the previous years’ experience, more confident in our decision-making, better able to read the land and observe the ecosystem in response to what it needs of us, more aware of what we ask of it. Yet humility remains our constant companion.
The land was good to us last season, an amazingly bountiful year loaded by crops that we eagerly passed on to CSA members, with a soil that felt rich, dark and soft. We survived the flood, water covering our crops, an overwhelming thankfulness to what could have been bad. We recovered from the cutworms and hope that this colder winter sends them back to the southern reaches of our state where they belong. We feel a deep desirous wish for similar abundance and luck this season. We do our part as farmers, cultivators of the earth, adding compost, analyzing soil, rotating crops, to make it so. We focus on land health, building land resiliency, a necessity in this time of changing climate, new trends. We focus on time, the long-term and day-to-day commitment it takes to be competent farmers; Jason will be limiting his off-farm work to very minimal if any hours and will farm full-time this season, a rewarding and necessary change as the work of a growing farm demands more with each passing year. Albert Einstein said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” So we make this change; financially scary but right in every other way, and we place great expectation on it. In this decision, we have met a goal; one that has been a long time coming.
We take full advantage of this snowfall, spring visually hidden by a winter wonderland, staying inside to work on CSA decisions and communications. We anticipate tapping of the sugarbush to be at least a week out, seed-starting in the greenhouse about two. We work on our farm financial plan; investing income into wealth generating expenses, not necessarily paper wealth, but biological wealth. We begin the record-keeping and paperwork for organic certification. We attended the Midwest Organic and Sustainable Education Services (MOSES) farm conference. We read Teaming with Microbes: The Organic Gardener’s Guide to the Soil Food Web. We take on new work opportunities; Cree is serving as an Agricultural Disaster case manager for farmers who were deeply affected by the flood last June, a short-term position that provides immense challenge and thus reward. We continue to explore livestock; laying hens and sheep. With the mentorship of farmers David Nortunen and Chris Duke, we create a grazing plan for our land, something that will help us make decisions about whether livestock is right for our landscape and life; a slower way to make decisions, but it adds clarity to our process. We want our decisions to be right. What would young farmers do without mentorship?
All these activities lend themselves towards a farming season that is upon us. We grow excited about its potential. We grow excited to reconnect with you, the members of our farm. We hope you will join us for another season of growth, another year of journey towards the bountiful rewards that we reap from the land.
It is a wet snow, the taste of mist in the air. As we walked in the midnight clear, the snowfall done, the landscape a serene and utterly quiet loveliness that brings pause to all the unspoken life questions, we are aroused by the clean, moist scent of water mixed with mud, soil coming alive as the frost slowly moves out of the earth, moving quickly to the scent of trees soon to bud, life emerging from winter dormancy; a rich, damp and undeniably alive scent. There is darkness to the winter yet, but spring is moving in, adding voice to the earthy darkness. Time is not slowing down; our clocks spring ahead. A quickening is before us as we prepare. Our list is long.
It is an exciting, if not overwhelming time, for the farm. We order seeds, contemplating new, improved varieties and added diversity. Will our soil handle our new crop choices, Sorrenti broccoli-raab, Golden Nugget squash, Antohi Romanian peppers, Vitaeverda cauliflower, Drunken Woman Frizzy Headed lettuce (how could we deny a name like that)? Will our season be long enough to ripen the Blacktail Mountain watermelons, an heirloom variety of high-altitude Idaho, a season with similar constraints to our own? Will the new Defiant tomato defy our landscape, a farm of the far north, or will they defy us? We enter every season with the same questions, the same concerns. We farm on the edge. We farm with faith. We enter each season wiser from the previous years’ experience, more confident in our decision-making, better able to read the land and observe the ecosystem in response to what it needs of us, more aware of what we ask of it. Yet humility remains our constant companion.
The land was good to us last season, an amazingly bountiful year loaded by crops that we eagerly passed on to CSA members, with a soil that felt rich, dark and soft. We survived the flood, water covering our crops, an overwhelming thankfulness to what could have been bad. We recovered from the cutworms and hope that this colder winter sends them back to the southern reaches of our state where they belong. We feel a deep desirous wish for similar abundance and luck this season. We do our part as farmers, cultivators of the earth, adding compost, analyzing soil, rotating crops, to make it so. We focus on land health, building land resiliency, a necessity in this time of changing climate, new trends. We focus on time, the long-term and day-to-day commitment it takes to be competent farmers; Jason will be limiting his off-farm work to very minimal if any hours and will farm full-time this season, a rewarding and necessary change as the work of a growing farm demands more with each passing year. Albert Einstein said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” So we make this change; financially scary but right in every other way, and we place great expectation on it. In this decision, we have met a goal; one that has been a long time coming.
We take full advantage of this snowfall, spring visually hidden by a winter wonderland, staying inside to work on CSA decisions and communications. We anticipate tapping of the sugarbush to be at least a week out, seed-starting in the greenhouse about two. We work on our farm financial plan; investing income into wealth generating expenses, not necessarily paper wealth, but biological wealth. We begin the record-keeping and paperwork for organic certification. We attended the Midwest Organic and Sustainable Education Services (MOSES) farm conference. We read Teaming with Microbes: The Organic Gardener’s Guide to the Soil Food Web. We take on new work opportunities; Cree is serving as an Agricultural Disaster case manager for farmers who were deeply affected by the flood last June, a short-term position that provides immense challenge and thus reward. We continue to explore livestock; laying hens and sheep. With the mentorship of farmers David Nortunen and Chris Duke, we create a grazing plan for our land, something that will help us make decisions about whether livestock is right for our landscape and life; a slower way to make decisions, but it adds clarity to our process. We want our decisions to be right. What would young farmers do without mentorship?
All these activities lend themselves towards a farming season that is upon us. We grow excited about its potential. We grow excited to reconnect with you, the members of our farm. We hope you will join us for another season of growth, another year of journey towards the bountiful rewards that we reap from the land.