From the Fields - Thaddeus
The week has been warm in the afternoons. Dare I say hot? The weather had been so gorgeous that the sunscreen got pulled out of the bathroom, and the bottle needed to be dusted off before I lathered my face and arms, breathing in a smell that I am really not that fond of.
The forecast was calling for rain in a few days, so the farm bustled with activity. The ground was still wet from previous rain, but not soaking wet - no mud - just moisture under the cracked soil surface, but it was firm enough to support a tractor and field crews.
The kale fields were our primary focus. One field made it through the winter with no aphids, and there was enough product to get one more pick. But the kale, like the chirping birds on the farm, knew that spring was near and had started sending up seed heads that would soon blossom into bouquets of tiny, yellow flowers. In the background, a red-tailed hawk circled high above the working crew in hopes that they would scare up a late lunch.
In a field away, a hand crew was taking a chance to rid the baby carrot plants of the competing weeds that had sprouted over the course of the wet spell. Next to that field, our sweet pea flowers and strawberries had a tractor working to cultivate the rows and beds. Not far from that, another tractor equipped with our seeding equipment was sowing the first seeds for the year - bok choy, carrots, beets and gai lan. Everyone was working at a pace that knows this blue-sky weather would be short lived.
The morning didn’t start like the rest. The sky was not blue, but filled with clouds. It was windy. There was a feeling in the air that my wife noted, and we agreed a storm was coming. Late in the afternoon, water droplets started falling from the sky and pounded the roof of my office. Looking outside, you could see each individual droplet and the force with which they collided into earth made me look closely to ensure it was rain and not a hail storm that was making all the racket!
That night we received about half an inch of rain, just enough to make us glad we seeded a bit early, got our harvest done for the week and cleaned up our carrots. The forecast is rain then sun for two days, then rain. Now, this is spring weather – unpredictable yet welcome.
Showing posts with label north. Show all posts
Showing posts with label north. Show all posts
February 22, 2016
February 15, 2016
Spring Peeking Through
From the Fields - Thaddeus
There is a sweet smell in the air. The birds are chirping more than they usually do. Some fruit trees are beginning to decorate their bare branches with pops of pink color, which are literally the explosion of their newly formed buds for the year. The hills are green with grass. It is almost impossible to see any evidence of last year’s dried grass. There is no mistaking the feeling that spring is springing, but I have seen this before, and deep in my bones, I know that winter is lingering out there over the Pacific. She will be back for another visit.
With the dry, sunny weather, we are excited to get caught up from the many weeks of operation-stopping mud. Older fields of chards, kales and beets have become resort towns for aphids, and now, our mowers and disks are turning everything back into the earth. After that, our mix of cold weather-loving cover crops (grains and peas) will be sown into the ground to keep the weeds down, and turn nitrogen gas in the air into organic nitrogen that crops will use to increase the organic matter percentage in the soil – not a bad deal at all. Love thy cover crop.
The warm weather has our asparagus field on high alert. It is starting to send up a shoot here and a shoot there. Under the cover of a greenhouse, our tomato plants are being tricked into thinking that now is a good time to germinate. Because our greenhouses will keep them protected from frost (that is bound to be back in the next four weeks), it is a good idea for them to germinate. This will make them ready to be put out into the field in the middle of March, which in all my days has always been a date on which our farm can count on never seeing frost again until the winter.
There remain several fields of vegetables that don’t have the aphids, and from these fields we are harvesting as much as we can with the sunny days. Every couple of hours, a tractor with a field trailer leaves. On the trailer are boxes neatly organized onto pallets that are then neatly organized onto the trailer. Each box has its label side out and in each box are 24 bunches of kale that are headed to our cooler before heading to your home.
There is a sweet smell in the air. The birds are chirping more than they usually do. Some fruit trees are beginning to decorate their bare branches with pops of pink color, which are literally the explosion of their newly formed buds for the year. The hills are green with grass. It is almost impossible to see any evidence of last year’s dried grass. There is no mistaking the feeling that spring is springing, but I have seen this before, and deep in my bones, I know that winter is lingering out there over the Pacific. She will be back for another visit.
With the dry, sunny weather, we are excited to get caught up from the many weeks of operation-stopping mud. Older fields of chards, kales and beets have become resort towns for aphids, and now, our mowers and disks are turning everything back into the earth. After that, our mix of cold weather-loving cover crops (grains and peas) will be sown into the ground to keep the weeds down, and turn nitrogen gas in the air into organic nitrogen that crops will use to increase the organic matter percentage in the soil – not a bad deal at all. Love thy cover crop.
The warm weather has our asparagus field on high alert. It is starting to send up a shoot here and a shoot there. Under the cover of a greenhouse, our tomato plants are being tricked into thinking that now is a good time to germinate. Because our greenhouses will keep them protected from frost (that is bound to be back in the next four weeks), it is a good idea for them to germinate. This will make them ready to be put out into the field in the middle of March, which in all my days has always been a date on which our farm can count on never seeing frost again until the winter.
There remain several fields of vegetables that don’t have the aphids, and from these fields we are harvesting as much as we can with the sunny days. Every couple of hours, a tractor with a field trailer leaves. On the trailer are boxes neatly organized onto pallets that are then neatly organized onto the trailer. Each box has its label side out and in each box are 24 bunches of kale that are headed to our cooler before heading to your home.
November 30, 2015
Crisp Fall Colors
From the Fields - Thaddeus
I love the change in seasons. I understand that our seasons may not be as extreme as many of the seasons on our planet, but I still love the crisp fall that settles over Capay. The peach and apricot trees are turning amazing colors. Their leaves are an array of oranges, reds and yellows that change by the day until they fall from the tree in a poetic dance to the ground where they mingle with the lush, green shoots of cover crop that are emerging from the soil. More stiff winds are sure to come in the next weeks, leaving only bare branches that are amazingly vibrant with a deep-red color. Soon Ricardo and his team will walk through the orchard with pruning shears, bringing order to the branches that grew this way and that over the summer, setting the trees up to produce the ideal amount of flowers in the spring and fruit in the summer.
Below the stone fruit orchard, the whistling of harvest crews picking kale carries in the cold air across the farm. The harvest crews are in full swing. Kales, chards, beets, radishes, lettuce, carrots and cauliflower stand ready to be picked, and our team is working just as fast as they can to get them out of the field.
The kale plants that have just been harvested look a bit different. With the largest leaves trimmed from them, their thick trunks are exposed. On top of these trunks, a small bouquet of baby kale leaves remains. These will grow hopefully before the inevitable aphid crop moves in and with any luck, we will be able to get one more harvest from these plants.
Beyond the field, the creek’s wildlife is bustling with activity of the local flock of wild turkeys who are around more than usual. It is funny to me how they show up and leave without notice. The acorns of the oak trees are on the ground and mostly eaten. The oak leaves are still hanging on to trees, but are deep brown in color. Below the trees, last season’s grass remains yellow, but below it, the effects of the first rain can be seen in the bright green grass sprouts that are emerging from the hills. It will not be long until the color of the hills is painted green with the next season of grass.
Our Satsuma mandarin trees are in full production. The crisp nights have helped to turn the color of the fruit orange. They taste great, and our mandarin crew is picking them just as fast as they can. The office is busy with planning for next year. Fields are being selected for all the crops we plan on growing. My trusty old Excel sheet that holds the history of each field is up on my computer screen. First, we select fields that are ready for a rotation of tomatoes. Then, we find homes for the peppers, eggplants and melons. After those crops are settled, we are sketching out a plan for the winter squash and next fall’s vegetables. Everyone is busy.
I love the change in seasons. I understand that our seasons may not be as extreme as many of the seasons on our planet, but I still love the crisp fall that settles over Capay. The peach and apricot trees are turning amazing colors. Their leaves are an array of oranges, reds and yellows that change by the day until they fall from the tree in a poetic dance to the ground where they mingle with the lush, green shoots of cover crop that are emerging from the soil. More stiff winds are sure to come in the next weeks, leaving only bare branches that are amazingly vibrant with a deep-red color. Soon Ricardo and his team will walk through the orchard with pruning shears, bringing order to the branches that grew this way and that over the summer, setting the trees up to produce the ideal amount of flowers in the spring and fruit in the summer.
Below the stone fruit orchard, the whistling of harvest crews picking kale carries in the cold air across the farm. The harvest crews are in full swing. Kales, chards, beets, radishes, lettuce, carrots and cauliflower stand ready to be picked, and our team is working just as fast as they can to get them out of the field.
The kale plants that have just been harvested look a bit different. With the largest leaves trimmed from them, their thick trunks are exposed. On top of these trunks, a small bouquet of baby kale leaves remains. These will grow hopefully before the inevitable aphid crop moves in and with any luck, we will be able to get one more harvest from these plants.
Beyond the field, the creek’s wildlife is bustling with activity of the local flock of wild turkeys who are around more than usual. It is funny to me how they show up and leave without notice. The acorns of the oak trees are on the ground and mostly eaten. The oak leaves are still hanging on to trees, but are deep brown in color. Below the trees, last season’s grass remains yellow, but below it, the effects of the first rain can be seen in the bright green grass sprouts that are emerging from the hills. It will not be long until the color of the hills is painted green with the next season of grass.
Our Satsuma mandarin trees are in full production. The crisp nights have helped to turn the color of the fruit orange. They taste great, and our mandarin crew is picking them just as fast as they can. The office is busy with planning for next year. Fields are being selected for all the crops we plan on growing. My trusty old Excel sheet that holds the history of each field is up on my computer screen. First, we select fields that are ready for a rotation of tomatoes. Then, we find homes for the peppers, eggplants and melons. After those crops are settled, we are sketching out a plan for the winter squash and next fall’s vegetables. Everyone is busy.
November 25, 2015
Thank You at Thanksgiving
From the Fields - Thaddeus
There are many things that I love about my job - the beauty of the farm, toiling with Mother Nature, watching things grow - but there is one thing that I love most about my job, and it is the random places I run into all of you.
It generally happens one of two ways. For some reason, I am at a home that I haven’t been to before (a friend of family most often), and I see a Farm Fresh To You box in the house or the newsletter on the fridge. The second way is I am walking down a street I have never walked before, and I see Farm Fresh To You boxes neatly stacked on porch waiting for their driver to pick them up. Bumping into Farm Fresh To You customers at your homes is the without a doubt the thing I love most about our work. It makes the produce we grow and the service we provide real – thank you!
It is the season to sit down with loved ones, enjoying each other and giving thanks. For many families, including my own, food makes this list. For this farmer, all of you, my most valuable customers, make this list. I am so thankful for all of you and the support you offer our farm family. You may not know how amazing you are and why I am so thankful for all of you, so here is a short list.
1. You have made a choice to trust us to feed you and your family on a routine basis. The routine part of this is huge. The routine part enables me to make a planting schedule that goes through the year and that I am confident we can sell. The routine part allows us to provide work for our farm team through the year, and it enables us to develop delivery routes that provide stable work for our driving and packing team. Your routine support of our farm (and I mean every delivery) is the backbone of our existence.
2. You are the best supporter of local produce. Every week our team finds the best local selection possible and every delivery you support that selection. When you receive a Farm Fresh To You delivery, you support, dollar for dollar, local and organic produce in a way that you could not do at a retail store, even if you tried.
3. You care about how the food system affects you AND others (even if you don’t know it!). Farm Fresh To You customers know they are getting healthy food, but they may not know they are creating healthy work environments for our family of employees and healthy places to live for the many living things that are part of our farm’s ecosystem.
The second group of people I am thankful for is our family of employees. What we are doing is pretty amazing. We have successfully created a vertically integrated food system, literally from the fields of our farm to the doorsteps of our customers. We could not do this without the talented teams of people that make every part of our food system work in harmony. These folks are of the heart and soul of our company, and I am proud be able to work with them.
There are many things that I love about my job - the beauty of the farm, toiling with Mother Nature, watching things grow - but there is one thing that I love most about my job, and it is the random places I run into all of you.
It generally happens one of two ways. For some reason, I am at a home that I haven’t been to before (a friend of family most often), and I see a Farm Fresh To You box in the house or the newsletter on the fridge. The second way is I am walking down a street I have never walked before, and I see Farm Fresh To You boxes neatly stacked on porch waiting for their driver to pick them up. Bumping into Farm Fresh To You customers at your homes is the without a doubt the thing I love most about our work. It makes the produce we grow and the service we provide real – thank you!
It is the season to sit down with loved ones, enjoying each other and giving thanks. For many families, including my own, food makes this list. For this farmer, all of you, my most valuable customers, make this list. I am so thankful for all of you and the support you offer our farm family. You may not know how amazing you are and why I am so thankful for all of you, so here is a short list.
1. You have made a choice to trust us to feed you and your family on a routine basis. The routine part of this is huge. The routine part enables me to make a planting schedule that goes through the year and that I am confident we can sell. The routine part allows us to provide work for our farm team through the year, and it enables us to develop delivery routes that provide stable work for our driving and packing team. Your routine support of our farm (and I mean every delivery) is the backbone of our existence.
2. You are the best supporter of local produce. Every week our team finds the best local selection possible and every delivery you support that selection. When you receive a Farm Fresh To You delivery, you support, dollar for dollar, local and organic produce in a way that you could not do at a retail store, even if you tried.
3. You care about how the food system affects you AND others (even if you don’t know it!). Farm Fresh To You customers know they are getting healthy food, but they may not know they are creating healthy work environments for our family of employees and healthy places to live for the many living things that are part of our farm’s ecosystem.
The second group of people I am thankful for is our family of employees. What we are doing is pretty amazing. We have successfully created a vertically integrated food system, literally from the fields of our farm to the doorsteps of our customers. We could not do this without the talented teams of people that make every part of our food system work in harmony. These folks are of the heart and soul of our company, and I am proud be able to work with them.
October 12, 2015
October Rain
From the Fields - Thaddeus
The sunsets have been surreal. They melt on the horizon into a passion of colors that grow in intensity before fading into the evening. Purples and pinks are the main colors. Clouds provide a thin blanket across the sky that reflect the colors and add texture to the evening making it the best sight of the day.
The days are still warm, hitting the 90s and sometime triple digits for an hour or so, but the evenings cool off and the mornings are chilly enough to warrant a light sweater. There was a bit of rain last night. The day was warm, and the sky was filled with a few huge clouds that didn’t even cover half of the sky. I stared at the clouds for a while, thinking they looked like rain, but convinced myself it wasn’t going to happen because they were missing their usual gray color, and there just wasn’t enough of them.
We were at neighboring farm Full Belly for their annual Hoes Down festival. Once darkness settled in across the farm, a few drops came. At first, it was nothing and then the farm was overcome with the pitter-patter of raindrops on metal roofs. We ducked under one of them. The people on the dance floor mostly scattered, but some remained, hooting and rejoicing over the first rain of the season. As quickly as it came, it left.
The next morning, I walked around our farm. The dust was settled, and the smell of wet dirt was is my soul. The fall crops of kales, chards, carrots, beets, lettuces, bok choy and radishes looked especially fresh. Their leaves were washed of any dust, and I think their spirits were lifted with the water. Under the Mother Oak by the creek, a group of deer stood picking up the acorns that had fallen. They didn’t seem too bothered by my presence. Turkeys, quail and doves were all out enjoying the morning.
Beyond the farm, the dry grass on the hills looked a little more worn from the weather. The oak trees were still holding on to the green color in the leaves, but it will be only a matter of weeks before they turn brown with the season. All of our summer crops are done. The fields that were the home to the melons, tomatoes, eggplants and peppers are now bare dirt and ready for a seeding of cover crop that will be germinated with the rains that we all hope continue to come.
Enjoy your boxes this week. - Thaddeus
The sunsets have been surreal. They melt on the horizon into a passion of colors that grow in intensity before fading into the evening. Purples and pinks are the main colors. Clouds provide a thin blanket across the sky that reflect the colors and add texture to the evening making it the best sight of the day.
The days are still warm, hitting the 90s and sometime triple digits for an hour or so, but the evenings cool off and the mornings are chilly enough to warrant a light sweater. There was a bit of rain last night. The day was warm, and the sky was filled with a few huge clouds that didn’t even cover half of the sky. I stared at the clouds for a while, thinking they looked like rain, but convinced myself it wasn’t going to happen because they were missing their usual gray color, and there just wasn’t enough of them.
We were at neighboring farm Full Belly for their annual Hoes Down festival. Once darkness settled in across the farm, a few drops came. At first, it was nothing and then the farm was overcome with the pitter-patter of raindrops on metal roofs. We ducked under one of them. The people on the dance floor mostly scattered, but some remained, hooting and rejoicing over the first rain of the season. As quickly as it came, it left.
The next morning, I walked around our farm. The dust was settled, and the smell of wet dirt was is my soul. The fall crops of kales, chards, carrots, beets, lettuces, bok choy and radishes looked especially fresh. Their leaves were washed of any dust, and I think their spirits were lifted with the water. Under the Mother Oak by the creek, a group of deer stood picking up the acorns that had fallen. They didn’t seem too bothered by my presence. Turkeys, quail and doves were all out enjoying the morning.
Beyond the farm, the dry grass on the hills looked a little more worn from the weather. The oak trees were still holding on to the green color in the leaves, but it will be only a matter of weeks before they turn brown with the season. All of our summer crops are done. The fields that were the home to the melons, tomatoes, eggplants and peppers are now bare dirt and ready for a seeding of cover crop that will be germinated with the rains that we all hope continue to come.
Enjoy your boxes this week. - Thaddeus
June 8, 2015
The Best Smell
From the Fields - Thaddeus
There are a handful of smells that hold a special place in my heart. Among them is the rich, musty fragrance emitted by dry soil getting its first drops of water. Another signature scent is the sweet aroma of carrots the hangs over a carrot field as it is being harvested and yet another favorite farm smell is the tomato smell transferred from a sticky tomato plant to your hands (which doesn’t wash off).
But the smell that holds the most special place in my heart, perhaps because it was first pointed out to me by my dear mother, is the perfume of the citrus blossom. It is intoxicating. The blossoms are long gone now. They have turned into little green marbles of fruit. In the spring, I watch the citrus trees like a hawk, waiting for the delicate clusters of white flowers to emerge from the tree so that I can bury my nose into them, breathing in the sweet smell, experiencing the beauty of our existence in nature.
In the cycle of a citrus tree’s life, the step that comes before that smell, in the heart of spring, is the planting of new citrus trees. This obviously only happens once in the course of the many years in a citrus tree’s life, but it is like our own day of birth. It must come before all the other things can happen.
We have added another satsuma mandarin orchard to our farm because each year we have seen the demand for these early mandarins grow so much that we are unable to get even our Farm Fresh To You customers enough of the fruit in the month of October.
As farmers, we face the issue that planting and caring for these orchards until they begin to yield fruit (5 years) is costly and often requires borrowing money. As such, several years ago our farm started a Green Loan Program, an innovative program that connects farmer and consumer by allowing our customers to participate in a mutually-beneficial investment partnership.
In simplified terms, qualified individuals can loan our farm money through our Green Loan Program. We then use the capital to bring new farm projects, like a new satsuma orchard, to reality. Investors can choose if they would like to receive a variable annual interest rate in cash or in Farm Fresh To You credits. Licensed through the California Department of Corporations as a DPO (direct private offering), our Green Loan Program is a legitimate way to invest in your food system. Through the DPO, we accept loans ranging from $2,000 to $50,000.
If you would like more information, please email my team at greenloan@farmfreshtoyou.com. We will get you information and coordinate a series of informational sessions about the program that I will host. This is a legitimate and secure way to let your money grow while enabling our genuine and sustainable farm to grow - let’s grow together!
There are a handful of smells that hold a special place in my heart. Among them is the rich, musty fragrance emitted by dry soil getting its first drops of water. Another signature scent is the sweet aroma of carrots the hangs over a carrot field as it is being harvested and yet another favorite farm smell is the tomato smell transferred from a sticky tomato plant to your hands (which doesn’t wash off).
But the smell that holds the most special place in my heart, perhaps because it was first pointed out to me by my dear mother, is the perfume of the citrus blossom. It is intoxicating. The blossoms are long gone now. They have turned into little green marbles of fruit. In the spring, I watch the citrus trees like a hawk, waiting for the delicate clusters of white flowers to emerge from the tree so that I can bury my nose into them, breathing in the sweet smell, experiencing the beauty of our existence in nature.
In the cycle of a citrus tree’s life, the step that comes before that smell, in the heart of spring, is the planting of new citrus trees. This obviously only happens once in the course of the many years in a citrus tree’s life, but it is like our own day of birth. It must come before all the other things can happen.
We have added another satsuma mandarin orchard to our farm because each year we have seen the demand for these early mandarins grow so much that we are unable to get even our Farm Fresh To You customers enough of the fruit in the month of October.
As farmers, we face the issue that planting and caring for these orchards until they begin to yield fruit (5 years) is costly and often requires borrowing money. As such, several years ago our farm started a Green Loan Program, an innovative program that connects farmer and consumer by allowing our customers to participate in a mutually-beneficial investment partnership.
In simplified terms, qualified individuals can loan our farm money through our Green Loan Program. We then use the capital to bring new farm projects, like a new satsuma orchard, to reality. Investors can choose if they would like to receive a variable annual interest rate in cash or in Farm Fresh To You credits. Licensed through the California Department of Corporations as a DPO (direct private offering), our Green Loan Program is a legitimate way to invest in your food system. Through the DPO, we accept loans ranging from $2,000 to $50,000.
If you would like more information, please email my team at greenloan@farmfreshtoyou.com. We will get you information and coordinate a series of informational sessions about the program that I will host. This is a legitimate and secure way to let your money grow while enabling our genuine and sustainable farm to grow - let’s grow together!
May 11, 2015
Tomato Musk
From the Fields - Thaddeus
Tomatoes are a force of nature that require focus every month of the year. When the harvest is done before the rains arrive, we need to know which fields will house next year’s crop so that we can adequately prepare the land for a planting of cover crop that is early enough to be tilled into the ground in time for the spring planting.
As the cover crop grows and the hills turn green with the winter, small tomato seeds are sown into the protection of the greenhouse just after the New Year. Tomatoes, originally of tropic origin, can’t handle one degree below freezing, so we wait until we are confident the last frost has come and gone before we pull the little plants out of the greenhouse and tuck them into the soil where they will battle the elements with little control from their farmer.
On our farm, this generally happens on March 15. As long as I have been around, I have never seen a frost after March 15 – the significance of this date to me is up there with my birth date!
Tomatoes grow slowly in the spring while the hills are still lush with green grass. The tomato plants drill their roots deeper and deeper into the soil. Then summer slowly arrives, a day or two at a time of warm weather. The hills begin to lose their lush, green look. The oak trees darken up a shade, and the tomatoes grow like weeds.
Spring settles back in, temperatures cool and maybe a drizzle of rain revives the grasses on the hills, gasping for their lives. This dance happens and then a week of “summer” weather arrives as it did last week on our farm. The tomatoes shoot up, and this year, we are thankful to have the stakes in on time. The crew escorts the tomatoes vines against gravity and toward the sun on the support of the temporary metal stakes and string system we have perfected.
The focus on growing the tomatoes is huge. I walk through the fields letting my hands brush along the sticky tomato plants, their tiny fuzz easily visible in the sun. Kneeling down in the soil, I admire the little, yellow flowers that are the beginning of the fruit, which will grow to mark the finale of summer in Capay. My hands are covered in tomato musk, a greenish / yellow layer that finds its way into the crevices of my fingerprints and nails. The smell is unmistakable – tomato.
Putting my hands to the my nose, I breathe in the fragrant smell and stop for the first time to look around and enjoy the army of stakes neatly put into the ground and the rows of tomatoes standing in formation like soldiers in a drill formation. It is only then that I notice the hills are no longer green; they are completely golden. The warm weather that pushed the tomatoes so fast painted the backdrop of the hills the golden summer color that will hang with us through the season.
Tomatoes are a force of nature that require focus every month of the year. When the harvest is done before the rains arrive, we need to know which fields will house next year’s crop so that we can adequately prepare the land for a planting of cover crop that is early enough to be tilled into the ground in time for the spring planting.
As the cover crop grows and the hills turn green with the winter, small tomato seeds are sown into the protection of the greenhouse just after the New Year. Tomatoes, originally of tropic origin, can’t handle one degree below freezing, so we wait until we are confident the last frost has come and gone before we pull the little plants out of the greenhouse and tuck them into the soil where they will battle the elements with little control from their farmer.
Tomatoes grow slowly in the spring while the hills are still lush with green grass. The tomato plants drill their roots deeper and deeper into the soil. Then summer slowly arrives, a day or two at a time of warm weather. The hills begin to lose their lush, green look. The oak trees darken up a shade, and the tomatoes grow like weeds.
Spring settles back in, temperatures cool and maybe a drizzle of rain revives the grasses on the hills, gasping for their lives. This dance happens and then a week of “summer” weather arrives as it did last week on our farm. The tomatoes shoot up, and this year, we are thankful to have the stakes in on time. The crew escorts the tomatoes vines against gravity and toward the sun on the support of the temporary metal stakes and string system we have perfected.
The focus on growing the tomatoes is huge. I walk through the fields letting my hands brush along the sticky tomato plants, their tiny fuzz easily visible in the sun. Kneeling down in the soil, I admire the little, yellow flowers that are the beginning of the fruit, which will grow to mark the finale of summer in Capay. My hands are covered in tomato musk, a greenish / yellow layer that finds its way into the crevices of my fingerprints and nails. The smell is unmistakable – tomato.
Putting my hands to the my nose, I breathe in the fragrant smell and stop for the first time to look around and enjoy the army of stakes neatly put into the ground and the rows of tomatoes standing in formation like soldiers in a drill formation. It is only then that I notice the hills are no longer green; they are completely golden. The warm weather that pushed the tomatoes so fast painted the backdrop of the hills the golden summer color that will hang with us through the season.
March 30, 2015
North from the House
From the Fields — Thaddeus
My house sits at a bend in the canal on our farm. The front of the house looks directly at the shop, as if, among the abundance of natural beauty surround the house, the shop is the best thing to look at. Clearly this home was built by a different kind of farmer (it was built by Johnny, our childhood neighbor in the 70’s who was less than excited about his new hippie neighbors).
The side door on this house is the one with the views. For this reason it is our side yard that received all the attention when we started the landscaping. From the side yard the view goes north, over the canal, across the lower fields and up the rolling hills, scattered with oaks, until the horizon meets the sky.
This spot on the farm is interesting because it is centrally located, but the canal doesn’t have a bridge over it, making the fields on the other side extremely difficult to reach. Hours and hours, miles over miles, have been spent by tractors and farm vehicles driving up the canal to the nearest bridge, then back down it.
North from my side yard, just across the canal, is a huge oak tree. This time of the year the oak leaves have grown to their full size but they are light green in color, awaiting the summer heat to darken them up. At the top of this oak tree, in the crux of some branches, a pair of red tailed hawks have put their nest. This is the third season in a row the couple has chosen this spot to raise their little babies.
Below the oak tree with the hawk nest, the construction on the much needed bridge across the canal has just been finished. Last week after my day had ended I sat in our swinging bench with my wife, beverages in hand, while the kids watered their garden. The smell of spring rolled through the yard with the breeze. The hawks came and went from their nest in the tree and below them a tractor returning from the field was able to use the bridge to get back to the shop - saving the first ten minutes in travel time. The tractor driver and I exchanged thumbs ups over the new bridge.
Doesn't get any better than this.
The side door on this house is the one with the views. For this reason it is our side yard that received all the attention when we started the landscaping. From the side yard the view goes north, over the canal, across the lower fields and up the rolling hills, scattered with oaks, until the horizon meets the sky.
This spot on the farm is interesting because it is centrally located, but the canal doesn’t have a bridge over it, making the fields on the other side extremely difficult to reach. Hours and hours, miles over miles, have been spent by tractors and farm vehicles driving up the canal to the nearest bridge, then back down it.
North from my side yard, just across the canal, is a huge oak tree. This time of the year the oak leaves have grown to their full size but they are light green in color, awaiting the summer heat to darken them up. At the top of this oak tree, in the crux of some branches, a pair of red tailed hawks have put their nest. This is the third season in a row the couple has chosen this spot to raise their little babies.
Below the oak tree with the hawk nest, the construction on the much needed bridge across the canal has just been finished. Last week after my day had ended I sat in our swinging bench with my wife, beverages in hand, while the kids watered their garden. The smell of spring rolled through the yard with the breeze. The hawks came and went from their nest in the tree and below them a tractor returning from the field was able to use the bridge to get back to the shop - saving the first ten minutes in travel time. The tractor driver and I exchanged thumbs ups over the new bridge.
Doesn't get any better than this.
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