Another day, another sore back...

Today started out like any other day on the farm -- I rolled in about a half hour late to see all of my co-workers all ready knee deep in their tasks. Tuesdays are picking days and as the season continues, there is more to pick so my tardiness (although expected of "the girl who drives in all the way from Akron") is always embarrassing. To make up for lost time, I quickly got a basket, wet it down, grabbed a rag, wet that down and started picking Nasturtiums. Nasturtiums are an edible flower that are good for adding a "kick" to your usually mundane salad. Since we can't wash them (not sure why not yet), we have to keep them moist and beautiful -- this is where the wet wooden basket and towel to cover them with come in. In fact, on picking days, everything we harvest must be sheltered from the sun. Apparently direct sunlight on a plant that has just been pulled from its life source (the dirt, the plants' stem, etc) results in almost instant wilting. The wilting is not only unattractive, but I think it results in some loss of nutrients as well. Since most people who visit farmers' markets expect the produce sold to resemble that of the gassed and shipped produce you see at the grocery store, my boss insists that beauty and appearance are key. So...we follow orders.

Once I was finished picking the Nasturtiums, I then had to weed and "dead head" the almost overwhelming rows of them that remained -- the ones I did not even walk past before my basket was full of these gorgeous flowers. Although I was assisted by one of my co-workers, this task took all morning. It was rather uneventful and I spent most of my time politely asking passing bumblebees not to sting me while I pulled out all of the dead flowers and tackled the never ending task of weeding. Apparently people driving by were also able to see just how daunting this task was -- a driver of a pick-up truck who really wanted to know about the cows relayed a message from his passenger to me saying, "My Ma said you got yer hands full over dere, I hope they're payin' ya by the hour." I politely gave him a thumbs up to say "yes" although I really wanted to raise another finger and tell them to get out of the truck and help me if they're so entertained. My annoyance was quickly subsided as I continued to observe how patient the bumble and honeybees were with me as I tore through their environment. You see, we have to pick off the dead flowers, because those are stealing energy from the plant. If the dead flowers go, the plant then takes this hint to start producing new, young flowers for us to eat and sell at the market. This is really the same reason why people prune their plants by tearing off the bottom leaves -- push the energy upward to produce more of the...well, produce.

Next, up was lunch under the tree. After being bent over flowers all day all I wanted to do was lay down and straighten my back. I attempted eating and laying down for a moment when no one was paying attention -- it didn't go well.

Arrrrgh back to work, still with a sore back. What was next? Take a guess...more weeding. This time in the rows of tomatoes in neatly spaced raised beds. If you don't know what raised beds are, they are basically rows of raised dirt with hoses along each side and plastic covering them. We plant the tomatoes like this because their roots like to stay warm and moist while their stems prefer to be dry. Plus, tomatoes tend to be a haven for diseases, so watering them where they meet the soil is the best solution to avoid diseases spreading. If you water tomatoes from the top down (like you do with most plants), any disease on their leaves will work its way down to the roots -- infecting the whole plant. This weeding task was a little nerve wracking, because, for one, you felt like you were in the middle of a beehive. Numerous bumblebees were working diligently pollinating the tomatoes' flowers to produce some of those juicy sandwich toppings. My other concern also had to do with the bugs, but much bigger ones -- tomato worms. These beasts of a worm are cute at first (even for their size - about as big as your index finger with a little more girth), but their stinger that sits up from their back trumps any bumblebees.' Hence my irrational fear of bumping into one. Fortunately, I did not run into any of these worms and the bumblebees were more concerned with the nectar of the tomatoes' flowers than me...even if some were right next to my head, collecting pollen on their hind legs and taking off to the next, nearby flower.

After we pulled all the weeds, the next step was to bend over some more, pick up the piles, throw them into a cart, wheel them over to a compost pile, bend over some more and throw them on top of the heap of compost. At first we were taking these piles down a steep hill into the woods. During this venture back to the shade, I couldn't help but think about rumors of black bears that apparently are known to wander the area where the farm is located -- I did not see any. However, on one trip back I did nibble on a couple blackberries and venture down to the river to try and recollect any energy I had left by meditating on the water that rushed past. An hour after that five minute break of solitude, I was back to running on fumes and shear ambition, bending over, collecting piles of weeds, hauling the cart to the nearest compost pile, bending over, collecting piles of weeds and throwing them on top of the compost...ugh. As the day came to a close, I later found out that this order to collect the pulled weeds and throw them in the compost pile was an unnecessary order from one of my co-workers -- the always pleasant Martha. For a moment, I pictured myself jumping on her back much like a lion does to a caribou and clawing at her...but, she is too sweet and was obviously mistaken so that urge subsided. Instead, I continued bending over, collecting weeds, putting them in a cart, taking it over to the nearest compost pile, bending over, picking the weeds BACK up and throwing them on top of the heap of composting organic matter.

The day finally ended with the discovery of a tomato worm. Since we are an organic farm, we do not spray anything to keep these worms off the tomatoes. Instead, it was fed to the chickens who play tag with these juicy treats by passing them around to each other and pecking at the worm until this once scary creature transforms from a game to dinner. So, regardless of my almost completely stiff back, at least the chickens had a good evening:)