Mid Summer

It's the time of year when the farmer's body has been moulded into a machine that gets up, works, goes to bed.  He forgets what it is to go out for a night on the town, with drinks and some kind of entertainment, like a good band.  He has only a few minutes before he turns out the light to read a passage of something unrelated to farming.

Markets have settled in for the season.  They are also well-oiled now, reliable and smooth - no longer the jerky, sputtering things they were at the beginning of the season when it was still chilly and wet and people scouted us out from the comfort of their passing cars.

And what have the markets been for us, first-time produce and dim sum vendors?  July was a good month.  Our sales increased significantly.  There are still slow days, and times when we wonder, what if people come for the novelty, and spread the word with enthusiasm, and then wash their hands of Long Road?  It's a challenge establishing returning clientele, though there are some people whom we see week in week out, and it's always nice to visit with them.  That is part of the appeal of the markets - it is a social place in a way that a big store is to a much lesser extent.  Yes, people say excuse me when they bump carts, and yes, most cashiers can do good small talk, but they can't talk for ten minutes, and there is no place for hovering around, it is a line that must keep moving.

There are locals and tourists at our markets, young and old, though it is the older people who are often the most interested in trying our food.  Often younger people come to the market and head straight for old-school treats, and steer clear of us because we are young too and maybe we make them uncomfortable.  We sell Chinese goods, but I have seen Chinese patrons come up as far as the neighbouring booth and then quickly cross to the other side.  It's funny how markets make people self-conscious in ways they wouldn't be in a grocery store.

We have some whole chickens that turned out wonderfully - small again, but top quality.  We will be fine with the chicken feet, livers and necks if the whole chickens sell out.  They are all in our freezer, interlaid with pork and frozen veggies.  It is the time of year when fall feels near and canning, freezing and making preserved vegetables becomes more pressing.  

Fishing Adventure

It was about time I got out to the creek in the canoe, and made use of my fishing licence.  Ours might be called a waterfront property; we do border a creek, but the space between the fenceline and the shore is so dense with tall waterweeds, and so boggy, that only a rugged adventurist like myself would bother wading through it, dragging the canoe alongside in the little tributary that leads to the creek, scaling the beaver dam along the way.  I got into the canoe and paddled up to the creek and felt the exhiliration of being on the open water.  Not a soul around, just me and the vast winding waterway.  I admit, it's nearly still water, flowing so slowly you don't know which way is upstream, and the weeds are thick and get tangled in the paddle, but calm is wonderful, and there is a steady rotation of cranes and other water birds to bedazzle.

I cast my fishing line and waited, fiddled with the line, and managed to get it badly tangled.  I couldn't reel the line in, but, given how resourceful I am, I sort of grabbed it and pulled, swinging it back towards me when a fish finally bit, unhooked the fish, tossed it into the creek after seeing how tiny it was, and wondered what one does to find fish of a decent size.  I figured the lake on the other side of the highway might be better.  There is a culvert just tall enough to pass through if you duck, and just wide enough to manoever if you are very steady.  It is flush with spider webs, and I held out my paddle like a sort and swatted at them.  Some looked like black widows, longish legs and a smooth shiny body.  I came out the other side and swatted the big spider that had found its way onto my arm.  I looked back at the tiny opening and wondered why I had gone through.  Peter's Lake is not exactly Lake Louise.  It's weedy like the creek, with algae clouds that look like rocks that disintegrate when you poke them.  After catching and releasing a few more tiny fish, I went back through to my side, taxied back to the farm, and got to chores.

No, I am not really a rugged outdoorsman.  But I like being outside, I like farming, but there is something appealing about the wild, even the relatively tame wild.  I recently walked my property line, and found a thread of wild raspberries.  While they are not as sweet as the kind you get at a garden centre, they are perhaps even more delicious for their tart taste, and they are just there, spreading slowly.  I can spend an hour in the patch, picking at them like a chicken locating worms in a pile of soil (incidentally, the chickens and I had to fight over worms as I was collecting bait.  They are incredibly quick at finding worms).  The nice thing about berry picking is that, unlike with fishing, you can count on having something to show for your efforts.  I had enough to eat as I picked, eat a few when I came in, and then freeze some for a winter day when I want to defrost them and add them to oatmeal.

Hay

We have good quality standing hay ready for the right person to cut, bale, take away.  Price to be negotiated. So reads our ad.

Having hay cut can be tricky.  On one hand, with cash cropping becoming a more appealing use of land than grass (for some people), hay is said to be in high demand because fewer properties are growing it and, if they are, bothering to keep it healthy and uncontaminated by chemicals.  On the other hand, it can be really hard to find someone who can cut and bale on terms that are reasonable to the grower.  This is understandable to some extent - it is a pain having to bring a tractor out, spend hours riding up and down like a Zamboni on an enormous rink, bale, load, haul away at a lumbering speed and have a train of cars trying to pass you.

Our farm sign is up amidst that hay, and our fields, hidden behind alfalfa and clover, are producing a lot of vegetables.

You may be wondering how our dim sum sales are.  Word seems to be spreading because it is a unique product, it tastes good, and we use good ingredients.  Yes, that's part of what is bringing in more and more sales each week.  But sometimes people come because, driving back to Toronto or Ottawa or Syracuse from a weekend at the cottage, they notice a handpainted sandwich board along the highway that reads:

Dim Sum
Egg - Pork
Veggies

And they think to themselves:  "Did I just see that?  In Murvale?"  And they turn around and check again.  "Yep, it says Dim Sum."  And they drive up the laneway, park, roll down the window, and ask with some hesitation, "Hi there...so, you guys sell Dim Sum?"

I'm glad we have added some variety to our area, and something a bit improbable.  I hope it's refreshing like a gourmet chip truck that sells beet and goat cheese salads and brisket (Harrowsmith has one) or clean, well-lighted washrooms with well-stocked soap and handtowels in a dusty service station (Harrowsmith has one of these as well).

New Pigs

We have two Berkshire pigs.  They were weaned young and, frankly, young Berkshire pigs are ugly. At least these are, though they are getting a bit bigger and are starting to look more like pigs and less like big rats. They were raised from birth on a pasture of about 30 acres and developed a certain wildness and lean, boxy little physiques. The first evening we had them, after having put them in a pen for the afternoon and tossed them some grass, we let them out into the barn's "common area" to give them a proper meal.   Before that, each time either of us approached the pen, they would freeze, even keeping a leg in the air.  They were extremely alert and sensitive to every sound.  As they scampered around the barn they sought only to escape, and quickly pushed the big pagewire door open and started darting around the yard.

Actually, they are quite adorable

We had lined the yard with shipping pallets, forming a tight fence, with the intention of having them out once they had learned that the barn was where they would get food and they would not want to venture far.  But on the first day, they would not have been inclined to return if they got out.  As well sealed as the yard seemed to be, there was one panel that was shorter than the others.  Lazy, well-fed pigs would never try to scale it, but these ones took a run at it and one of the climbed to the top, got its body half way over before struggling for a moment to free herself.  It was by some grace that she struggled to get herself over because it gave me just enough time to grab her hind legs and get her back into the barn.  Imagine a $100 bill floating over the edge of a ship and you grab it just before it is out of reach.

Meanwhile, farmgate sales are coming along - we are gaining customers each day and meeting nice and interesting people. The farmgate concept is not common around here and people take notice when they see one.  I visited a farm called Vicki's Veggies in Prince Edward County last week, where I saw a stunning 16 acres of pristine veggies and then the most exquisite farm store - an old garage that had been converted into a small shop with old windows in rustic wooden frames and a floor of wide wood slabs that were just crooked and creaky enough, without being dilapidated.  There is no way to replicate that.  Ours looks a bit, well, suburban, given that we are opening up our much more modern garage door and selling from the edge of the the garage's shelter (of course when you see the chickens and wild flowers all around you, your don't feel you are in a subdivision).  In any case, we are admittedly less rustic than some and maybe not quite as much the postcard image, but we do have heart just the same.

Tomatoes are getting close now, they are big and green, and in another week or two ready to enjoy.  There is nothing like a freshly picked Brandywine tomato cut up and sprinkled with a little bit of brown sugar.

Farmgate is Open

As you come up the highway, past the old stone house with the white picket fence where the old bachelor farmer lives, and past the old United Church that sits unused, and then past the cemetery, the little one right off the highway with the old wire sign, you will see the sign for the hamlet of Murvale and on your left, a large greenhouse in the distance. You will then notice a sign that reads:

Eggs - free range, organically fed
Pork - organically fed
Chinese Dim Sum -
Steamed buns and egg tarts
Kale

This is Long Road Eco Farm.  The sign now reads all of those things and cucumber.  We have turnip greens and snow peas, radishes and collards, garland chrysanthemum and oregano.  Lettuce next week and then tomatoes, mustard greens, asian salad mix, then soon after we will have squash and sweet potatoes.  There will be okra, chard, zucchini, cilantro, sweet corn, strawberries, and lots of nice beans of different colours and lengths.  There will be garlic and onions, and ground cherries and watermelon.  There will be Shiitake mushrooms, Berkshire pork and eggs from Chantecler hens.  There is a lot going on right now.

The farmgate is open and people are pulling in.  You can hear the slow crunch of gravel as cars hesitantly venture into the property, driver and passenger gazing to the left at the garden beds under row cover or black mulch cover or bare soil with vegetation as neatly weeded as can be expected, then to the right where the greenhouse doors are open and cucumber and tomatoes sprawl upwards on stakes, the yellow cucumber flowers bright.  At the foot of the driveway is parking and a chicken yard in sight.  People get out and ask about our operation, buy a couple of steam buns, some veggies, some egg tarts.  Driving back towards the highway they see the red clover, the daisies, the butter and eggs, the alfalfa, the mullein, the prairie smoke.

Fields are in Bloom

A vegetable field grows slowly enough that it catches you off guard when things are ripe and ready to pick and then eat or sell.

We have been doing a market in our area and selling Chinese buns.  The cabbage above is used for the filling, as is the smoked, cured pork we raised and prepared and the eggs we get from our hens.

I have also been selling egg tarts with organic cream and homemade pastry.  Business is not booming, our products are not quite flying off the table, and there are no lineups, but we have gotten some good feedback about the pleasantly intriguing tastes of our food.  One customer said:  "These are awesome!" That was nice.

I was a lemonade vendor as a child.  I didn't have to have a permit for the stand I had at the end of the sidewalk.  I can remember one otherwise lazy summer afternoon when business reached a pitch and I ran out of popcorn and had to get another batch going.  My aunt Judy, who lived with us and who came home on the handy bus around 4:00 had just arrived and the driver bought a lemonade and popcorn.  She waited patiently.  A young couple stopped and picked up lemonades, I served them while the handy bus driver stood aside:  "There you are...popcorn will be just another moment...oh, hello sir, what can I get you..." another guy stopped for a glass and then I ran back into the house and got the popcorn out so the driver could be on her way.  Then the lull came and I felt very satisfied.  I think I made $20 for the summer (that's net profit - I think I spent another $20 on a new popcorn popper for the next season).

Being an adult food vendor comes with more stress obviously.  It's hard to establish yourself, and it's hard to go for long making $20 profit for the season. I do expect to do better than that, but business is slow at many Canadian farmer's markets.

2014 - Harrowsmith Market

1990 - Jonny's Lemonade, Lethbridge (from left to right:  Brother Patrick,
Schoolmate Reilly, and Jonathan at Right)

Evictions

Finding a bird's nest in your rural mailbox is exciting, especially when you open up the box and see a little bird sitting in the nest, on her eggs...and then the excitement ends and you realize she's the reason the mail has been strewn around the highway lately and she will have to go.  Or, should she get to stay?  I felt like a cruel human plowing over the natural world as I gently took the nest out and set it in the ditch a few feet away (this was after the bird had gone out for the day).  This poor family has been displaced, the eggs may well have gone untended, and the bird comes back, finds her way into the mail box and rebuilds.  With the sun out and the fields dry, it has been a busy couple of weeks and I haven't been able to make time for making the mailbox more nest-proof.  And so, I have this on my conscience.

The pig was evicted around the same time - and with good cause.  He destroyed the place.  He lifted the concrete tiles and dug several feet in the ground.  But he is a pig and he has his reasons.  He has been relocated to a much nicer, greener pasture, with a run-in shed instead of a barn.  He will be with us for another couple of weeks and then we will take him for slaughter.

The greenhouse is up, the fields are mostly dug up and covered or planted, though the digging is ongoing.  Each day starts around 6:30 in the morning and wraps up around 8:00 at night.  Meals are hearty:  three eggs some days for breakfast, toast, granola, a hefty lunch, a full cooked supper.  A salad and smoothie won't cut it.  And the time that goes into making proper meals cuts into TV time and internet browsing.  That's the positive side.  It also means that lying in a hammock on an afternoon off and reading a good book doesn't happen much.  This is, after all, not a hobby farm and making a farm functional requires a least a little austerity.  Every morning my fingers feel locked.  And then they loosen up and I manage to get them around the hoe or the shovel or the fork.  The paddy hat and flimsy scarf around my neck have kept me from getting seriously burnt without using glob after glob of sunscreen, but some days the angle of the hat is a bit off, the scarf gets loose and I end up a bit pinker than I hoped.   The grass is back and it's lush.  The trees are budding, and the wind has been a real pain, but the airflow is good out here.