The spring planting season bares a burden on farmers that is difficult to describe. It is a beautiful but stressful dance, bringing a season to life yet battling the conditions that hold it back...keeping seedlings and transplants alive and strong against the fluctuations of temperatures and frosty nights...working the field to prepare it for planting while holding off, requiring patience for it to drain its wetness, not wanting to cause damage to the tilth and structure of the soil...wanting and at times needing to plant, the transplants demanding new ground, more nutrients, but being delayed by weather and a too cold clay that is only ready when it's ready.
We’ve experienced our share of burdens already this spring; the season to date has not been a simple or efficient one. We feel the weight of this challenge; an overwhelming anxiety that we seek certain relief from. Is this spring harder than last, when we battled variegated cutworms and significant flooding? Maybe not in the physical sense. But emotionally, we feel a bit battered this year. The extremes of our weather patterns, a by-product we believe, of far greater issues we face worldwide that will become increasingly more difficult for farmers who work with a nature that always bats first, are a challenge that takes its toll. It feels less about the physical impact of the individual year (though tell that to us in the day-to-day thick of things!) and more about cumulative effect; three difficult springs in a row is a lot to endure. We feel it. Our farmer friends feel it. We know some who faced severe flooding last year who did not recover, as well as farmer friends in southern MN who dealt with severe drought, who have given up this year. It is a tough time for farms. A scary time even, as we hedge our bets against a climate that evolves with more risk.
But we do endure it. As much as there is hardship, there is also life! There is no question that things are significantly delayed this season, but if we could simply rid ourselves of clocks and calendars, look to our land as the bearers of time, we do not feel behind. Rather we plant crops now with the Marsh Marigolds, lovely yellow spring blooms that parallel our planting season from year to year. This hasn’t changed despite they bloom (and thus we plant) two weeks later than normal. While we don’t feel in sync with the calendar, we feel in sync with our landscape and wildlife that surround us. We have trees, some birch, ash and sugar maple, slower to wake-up than the aspen, red maple, and balm of gilead, that are just now pushing out leaves. The forage is finally greening up. The woodcock has just returned. We saw our first baby fawn (they must have been born awhile back but we haven’t seen any until this morning which is weeks later than normal). The scent of lilac finally fills our senses; the truest indicator of planting season!
Beyond the natural plant and wildlife of our landscape, there is growing life at the farm as well. After finally seeing the land dry up enough to work it without fear of damaging it, and the threat of frost seemingly past, we have made tremendous progress with planting these last two weeks. We are about 75% planted and continue to work hard with each day. The strawberry rhubarb, 60 crowns that laid dormant for an excruciatingly long time (we wondered if they died) finally surfaced! The spring greens (lettuce, kale, and mesclun mix) are growing, albeit slowly, but are growing none-the-less.
As for the best news of life on the farm, we are finally keepers of chickens! We now raise 99 Bowven ladies who grow and eat and poop and lay eggs at the farm, adding fertility which is life in and of itself. Bringing the chickens onto our land in early May when we yet had snow, wet, and dormant conditions was a difficult transition for us being new to chicken husbandry. So far, we seem to be passing the test having sadly lost only 1 chicken. With the greening of forage and the land drying up, we are now able to move their ranging coops on a daily basis, which has made all the difference in the happiness of our birds and our ability to feel good about bringing them to our farm. The chickens have added to our overwhelmed nature this spring (100 chickens is a lot of chickens!), but they’ve also given us a lot of enjoyment and a certain happiness. A farm feels right with animals. We appreciate the cooing.
It is all extraordinarily delayed; things are growing slower than normal. But it is happening. The land, the farm, even we are waking up! The tinges of summer, a couple hot, humid days last week, remind us that hope is well alive at Chelsea Morning Farm and that greener days are ahead.
We’ve experienced our share of burdens already this spring; the season to date has not been a simple or efficient one. We feel the weight of this challenge; an overwhelming anxiety that we seek certain relief from. Is this spring harder than last, when we battled variegated cutworms and significant flooding? Maybe not in the physical sense. But emotionally, we feel a bit battered this year. The extremes of our weather patterns, a by-product we believe, of far greater issues we face worldwide that will become increasingly more difficult for farmers who work with a nature that always bats first, are a challenge that takes its toll. It feels less about the physical impact of the individual year (though tell that to us in the day-to-day thick of things!) and more about cumulative effect; three difficult springs in a row is a lot to endure. We feel it. Our farmer friends feel it. We know some who faced severe flooding last year who did not recover, as well as farmer friends in southern MN who dealt with severe drought, who have given up this year. It is a tough time for farms. A scary time even, as we hedge our bets against a climate that evolves with more risk.
But we do endure it. As much as there is hardship, there is also life! There is no question that things are significantly delayed this season, but if we could simply rid ourselves of clocks and calendars, look to our land as the bearers of time, we do not feel behind. Rather we plant crops now with the Marsh Marigolds, lovely yellow spring blooms that parallel our planting season from year to year. This hasn’t changed despite they bloom (and thus we plant) two weeks later than normal. While we don’t feel in sync with the calendar, we feel in sync with our landscape and wildlife that surround us. We have trees, some birch, ash and sugar maple, slower to wake-up than the aspen, red maple, and balm of gilead, that are just now pushing out leaves. The forage is finally greening up. The woodcock has just returned. We saw our first baby fawn (they must have been born awhile back but we haven’t seen any until this morning which is weeks later than normal). The scent of lilac finally fills our senses; the truest indicator of planting season!
Beyond the natural plant and wildlife of our landscape, there is growing life at the farm as well. After finally seeing the land dry up enough to work it without fear of damaging it, and the threat of frost seemingly past, we have made tremendous progress with planting these last two weeks. We are about 75% planted and continue to work hard with each day. The strawberry rhubarb, 60 crowns that laid dormant for an excruciatingly long time (we wondered if they died) finally surfaced! The spring greens (lettuce, kale, and mesclun mix) are growing, albeit slowly, but are growing none-the-less.
As for the best news of life on the farm, we are finally keepers of chickens! We now raise 99 Bowven ladies who grow and eat and poop and lay eggs at the farm, adding fertility which is life in and of itself. Bringing the chickens onto our land in early May when we yet had snow, wet, and dormant conditions was a difficult transition for us being new to chicken husbandry. So far, we seem to be passing the test having sadly lost only 1 chicken. With the greening of forage and the land drying up, we are now able to move their ranging coops on a daily basis, which has made all the difference in the happiness of our birds and our ability to feel good about bringing them to our farm. The chickens have added to our overwhelmed nature this spring (100 chickens is a lot of chickens!), but they’ve also given us a lot of enjoyment and a certain happiness. A farm feels right with animals. We appreciate the cooing.
It is all extraordinarily delayed; things are growing slower than normal. But it is happening. The land, the farm, even we are waking up! The tinges of summer, a couple hot, humid days last week, remind us that hope is well alive at Chelsea Morning Farm and that greener days are ahead.
Photos from left to right (top row): 1) Tasty Jade cucumber seedlings germinating in the high tunnel, 2) A close-up of our Bowven laying hens when we first brought them to the farm in early May, 3) The laying hen shelter complete with mesh fencing for good air flow and polycarbonate roofing for additional natural light. (Second row): 4) Cauliflower tranplants in the field, 5) Our secret garden raised beds with lettuce greens growing, 6) Kale growing in the high tunnel. (Third row): 7) Our Bowven's on greener pasture, 8) Both laying hen shelters which have 50 birds in each and get moved daily, 9) Red Express, Tendersweet and Early Jersey Wakefield cabbage with Napa Chinese cabbage under white cloth remay to help organically-control flea beetles and peppers planted just beyond the remay.