Farm to Fork

Who's Your Farmer?

Fri, 14 Nov 2008 21:18:44 GMT

Posted by Maryellen Driscoll

One weekend this fall we could not make it to one of our farmers’ markets, so two bighearted friends volunteered to cover for us. They left here at 5 a.m. Hot coffees in hand. Van fully loaded. They returned 12 hours later. Vehicle emptied. Spirits high. The entire day was chock-full of eye openers...and that's without even meeting the customer who travels by roller skates and professes to be a superhero (seriously). What truly awed our friends were the relationships we have developed with the people who come to the market to buy their food. They couldn’t believe how many people knew us by name and were all in a tizzy about our whereabouts that weekend. Some took a double-take at the banner on our tent to make sure they were still buying from Free Bird Farm.

Most of these customers come faithfully every week. Many know our children’s names, as we know theirs. We often talk about food—the things we cook or plan to make that week. Some will bring us baked goods or samples of food they’ve made with our produce.

Week after week after week, people come to our stand faithfully and often pause to genuinely thank us for growing their food before they tote it away.

That appreciation carries us. And the relationships and friendships we’ve developed with so many amazing, generous, interesting (sometimes even famous) people we’ve met through our farmers’ markets and CSA enrich our lives and give greater meaning to all that we do. We’re not just stewards of the land. We are feeding clean, healthful, locally-grown food to people we’ve come to know along with their families, friends and sometimes neighbors.

So this blog is meant to be an expression of thanks to the many amazing people who support us and help keep the spring in our step. It’s also meant to goad those of you on who haven’t discovered your local or regional farmers’ markets to do so. Become a regular or seek out a CSA. Or do both.

Find yourself a farmer (or two or three…). You’ll be glad; the farmer(s) will too.

(P.S.- find yourself a Certified Naturally Grown farmer, and he or she might have one of these clever yellow bumper stickers for you too.)

Unfinished Business

Fri, 07 Nov 2008 20:57:27 GMT

Posted by Maryellen Driscoll

We’re now in November and productivity on our farm is visibly waning. We've tilled under much of our vegetable fields, though a respectable showing of cold-hardy crops still stand in the fields—cabbage, broccoli, swiss chard, kale, bok choy, spinach, carrots, parsley and beets, to name some.

We’re hoping the Brussels sprouts we planted on the late side size up in time for Thanksgiving. Brussels sprouts are a curious sight. As you can see here (at right), the plants stand about knee-high with broad cabbage-like leaves fanning from the ground level up to the top of the stalk. The knobby, little “sprouts” are tucked in along the stalk and snap off for harvest.

We haven’t quite finished harvesting the most incredible sweet potatoes we’ve ever tasted, and there’s one last batch of meat birds to process. All too soon, the laying hens (pictured below left) and their house on wheels will be hauled back towards our barn for the winter. It doesn’t seem like it’s been five months since I first wrote about carting them out to the field.

Hens are rather silly birds—eternally nosy and, when someone's collecting their eggs, always on alert, waiting, hoping for an egg to drop. When it does, the hens hurriedly swarm around my feet slurping up whatever yolk and white they can before it streams through the wire mesh floor of their house (designed to drop their manure back onto the pasture). With the shorter and cooler days of fall, our hens lay significantly fewer eggs. So I'm extra careful not to drop any (much to their dismay).

There’s still no shortage of pressing matters here to attend to in the next couple of months. But it does seem like there’s a little more time to do things, like trek out to the woods as a family, catch a sunset, or, on this particular day, watch a hen proudly parade around a piece of cracked egg shell while the rest of the flock scurried after her. More time to witness the poetic and plenty of the peculiar.

A Winter Tease

Fri, 31 Oct 2008 20:09:41 GMT

Posted by Maryellen Driscoll

This week it seemed like the growing season had come to a grinding halt. Temperatures dropped into the 30s. A merciless wind kicked up and kept up. Heavy rain turned out to be a mere prelude to snow. There were even school cancellations in our area. This would be palatable in December, but October?

We did get our entire garlic crop planted before the driving rains swept in. And we processed as many chickens as we could once we saw snow pop up in the forecast. By Tuesday evening we’d bedded the remaining birds’ outdoor shelters with fresh hay and hoped for the best. Most were already soaking wet from the day’s driving rain. We were sure some would not make it through the night.

The idea of losing chickens at this stage in the game seemed depressing; at this point we've invested a lot into their care and growth, and numerous customers were banking on them for their winter meat supply. Some have even bought freezers just to accommodate them.

Miraculously we did not lose one bird to pneumonia or any other chill-induced illness that night. They huddled up, and the thick bed of hay seemed to help keep them warm and well.

Equally amazing, we still have quite a bit of crops to harvest for our market. Even the greens under our miniature hoop houses have held up nicely. While the storm was not without consequences—we lost some improperly stored squash to freezing temperatures—we are now finding ourselves back in the thick of it. With temperatures in the 50s today and our seasonal help gone as of this week, we have a very long day of work ahead of us trying to prepare for the weekends’ markets as well as juggle some other time-pressing matters on the farm. We’re glad for the chance to work. And we’re glad that this sampling of winter weather didn’t lick us.

Full of Bull

Fri, 24 Oct 2008 21:02:58 GMT

Posted by Maryellen Driscoll

It’s never good when a car unexpectedly pulls in our driveway at 11:30 p.m., as happened this week. We pretty much knew what the stranger in our driveway was going to say: “Your cows are out.”

This is the time of year our cows are most inclined to break through fence. That’s because after feasting on fresh grass for the past six months, they’ve grazed out most of their pasture. The grass is no longer growing, and they’re willing to test fence line to find something green to eat.

Cows on the loose and in the dark is a concerning combination. If they end up on the road and a car comes upon them, the results can be fatal—and not just for the animal. Living in a primarily agricultural area, we seem to read about such incidents in our local newspaper about once a year. Last spring the accident involved a horse on the loose in thick morning fog and a man driving his truck to work.

Seeing as our two children were asleep when our cows broke loose and my husband, Ken, can run the fastest, I stayed in while he headed out into the cold, damp darkness to round up the herd. He didn’t return until around 1:30—just two hours before he had to be up for a farmer’s market. It turns out our herd of 22 mothers, steers (neutered males) and calves were quick to return to their fenced-in pasture. But our bull, Leroy (above right), wasn’t so cooperative. He was fixed on making friends with the cows at the farm across the street (presumably one was in heat). Ken’s attempts to herd him back home with his all-terrain vehicle only irritated the 1200-pound animal. At one point he charged at Ken, who was forced to ditch the ATV and high-tail it onto a neighbor’s porch, waking the old woman who lives there. She was understanding.

A nice thing about our neighborhood is that most everyone grew up here and on a farm, so these kinds of events don’t startle them much. But even someone who works daily with cows understands that an angry bull is risky business.

Ken ended up having to rodeo the bull home using our old Volvo station wagon. Now I doubt Swedish engineers ever tested whether this car was bull proof, but we can testify that the car withstood a few head butts quite stoically. Leroy is back where he belongs, the fence is good and hot, and I’m happy to report that he has since become the sire of our second bull calf this season (pictured above left).

Budding Crops

Fri, 17 Oct 2008 19:11:38 GMT

Posted by Maryellen Driscoll

Being a mother of two young children, my every waking hour tends to revolve around the world of kids. But even when I exit from active mom duty to work at a farmer’s market or pull together our CSAs shares, children (and not just ours) continue to crop up as a motivation behind what we do.

Sometimes they’re front and center, standing in front of our table at the farmer’s market, consulting with their parents on what to buy. Every once in a while I even witness a pleading for some vegetable or an extra chicken, but these episodes are a far cry from the ugly meltdowns you see in the supermarket cookie aisle.

Our CSA has been one of the most inspiring venues for getting kids excited about vegetables—both the commonplace and the less familiar. Last week one CSA member said to me, “Ben has never been big on vegetables, but when he knows they’re from Alis’ farm, he gets excited about eating them.” (Ben and our daughter Alis go to nursery school together.) I’ve heard versions of that quite a bit. Yesterday one member e-mailed me that the edamame in this week’s share was her boys’ favorite.

And last week I bumped into a member who said her son never cared for eggs until she started serving eggs from our pasture-raised hens. I attribute this to a significant flavor difference between eggs laid by hens roaming freely outdoors on grass versus those raised in confinement.

Other CSA moms tell me how getting a bountiful, fresh share of vegetables each week has affected how they cook. It challenges them to plan meals and make the most of what they receive. Consequently, they say, their families are eating healthier than ever. Considering that we presently live in a society in which 16 percent of all children 6-19 years old are overweight or obese, all of these anecdotes are heartening. As a farmer, watching as things grow in the field is exciting. But watching growing children develop a love for fresh, locally grown produce is nothing short of inspiring.