Winter’s Last Stand

Farming, like quilting, is a process of layering textures, patterns and stitches one upon the other in an effort to create something functional, aesthetic and long-lasting. Unlike quilting, however, farming is done on the move. We are walking fast at Island Meadow Farm these days between seeding, watering, transplanting, weeding, harvesting and maintenance chores.

It is that dynamic time of year when our work is multi-dimensional and far-reaching. Spring treats like radishes and hakurei turnips are ready for harvesting at the same time that summer crops wait not-so-patiently on the hardening-off table before being planted in the ground and weeds grow racehorse fast in the field given lush rains still blowing in regularly from the Pacific. 

In late May, it seems like everything is happening at once on the farm. Because it is! This week we removed several beds of overwintered crops that finally gave up the ghost. The bolting kale and chard with an understory of crimson clover were gorgeous to my eye and attracted the necessary pollinators which visited their pollen covered flowers regularly, but, regardless, it was time to get the summer cover crops in. Pulling out the remnants of last season’s work felt to me like overcoming winter’s last stand.

We’ve had hearty locals shopping the stand all winter and spring, but now, the passers-by of summer are appearing in  greater number down the farmstand drive, just in time for the peas, beets and greens that will be joining ranks with salad, leek scapes, pea tendrils and other early season veggies stocked as often as we can situate them on our refrigerator’s shelves.

We are transplanting and seeding as fast as we can, hoeing on the warm days to keep up with weed pressure, harvesting often and sleeping exceptionally well at night. Sometimes things get a little silly during the eleventh hour.

 

With long days upon us and plenty of sunshine to go around, it’s gorgeous on the farm. Come down and check it out for yourself!

The Season to Sow

It’s time to seed again………….. I hope.

The calendar is telling me so, as is experience and intuition. But this most-recent onset of sleet, rain and chill has me worrying that our first round of seeding in the field might be undone by harsh, grizzled days.

Caitlin seeds beets into soil block mix.

In mid-February, we enjoyed the crystalline moment of sunshine and distinctively warm temperatures that is a common turning point for winters in the Pacific Northwest. Along with the clarity came a moment in the greenhouse seeding Allium (our onions, shallots and leeks) as well as beets that were placed into a homemade soil-block mix designed for easy transplanting once the beet bed dries out for tillage and bed prep.

By early March, several beds on a south-facing slope were dry enough to work. So work them we did. Out came our new tiller, and into the green-chopped beds and freshly tilled cover crop went sweet pea, shelling pea, snap pea, spinach and radish seed.

Then back came the rain — a cold rain this time.  So it goes, as we wait for the end of brief, vermilion dry spells to stick digging forks in the soil to check for moisture levels that are adequate to allow for work, for upturning our delicate humus that compacts and loses body when compressed during too-wet times. Now we wait, hoping that the seeds we sowed are not rotting in their furrows, the victims of cold temperatures and inhibited germination.

Seeding carrots and salad in the greenhouse.

While spring rains plunk tirelessly down on the sheet-metal roof of our house, we recede to our greenhouse. First, some carrots and salad went into the greenhouse floor at Timken Farm. Next, it’s time for Brassica and Solanaceae above the heated warmth of electric coils designed to trick them into sprouting. We’ve planted cabbage, broccoli and cauliflower seeds in cells of germination mix. As soon as those are up, we’ll take them off the heat and plant a round of tomatoes, peppers and eggplant.

There is certain magic contained in the act of sprinkling seeds into nursery trays, knowing the plants will not survive outside quite yet, but trusting the warmer days will come at a time that coincides at least roughly with our projected dates — for leaving these starts for too long in their trays and four-inch pots during a long, wet spring leads to stifling, root-bound conditions that are harder on the plants than getting them out into the field when they just start to fill-out.

Our braising mix is harvested from overwintered greens.

We trust that it is indeed time to seed, and we fill up our greenhouse tables with delicate starts. We dive into our field beds between rainstorms planting early vegetable crops and sowing cover crop where overwintered plants, now harvested, once lived.

In between those pristine moments we continue to work inside, resting moments longer, awaiting the long days ahead and looking forward to sweet days of lingering sunsets and perfectly ripe tomatoes.

The rain might be falling, but so are our seeds. There is trust in this act. Surely the sun must come back soon.

the end of summer

the season is closing soon. one more csa distribution, one more farmer’s market. farmstand open indefinitely.

here are some photos, all taken by leila.