The reality of farm to table

When I consider the idyllic romance that now surrounds the Farm to Table movement, I’m not sure whether to laugh or roll my eyes. Maybe both. In real life, at least this time of year, it is a frantic race against spoilage. Sometimes, as with corn, it involves marathons of blanching, freezing and/or canning. For foods that are not easily preserved, it means gorging on whatever is ripe to the point of not being able to look at it until next year. I considered it a victory when we finished the last of a giant bag of lettuce before it rotted (much). Every night when I make dinner, I contemplate how many vegetables I can serve before Terry revolts. The answer is generally one, but he will eat cucumbers in sour cream with BLTs. (I have had people ask for my recipe for cucumbers in sour cream. Here it is: Peel, deseed if necessary, and slice cucumbers; add sour cream and stir.)

The cantaloupe began to ripen about 10 days ago. Terry estimated there were 50 melons out there. It was fine at first, a melon here and a melon there. We could keep up. I fear that there will be a day when we have 40 ripe cantaloupe all at once. It’s already starting. In the last two days, I have harvested 12 cantaloupe. What do you do with 12 cantaloupe? We got rid of two when my brother, SIL, and their friend came to visit Saturday. Hilda took one. I can eat one cantaloupe in four days. When I brought the harvest in Sunday, I asked Hilda if she was ready for another melon.

“We still have some from yesterday,” she said.

“Eat faster!” I replied.

I will have to take some to work, and certainly my friends will be glad to get them. There is nothing like a vine-ripened melon. They are, however, bulky, heavy, and generally a pain to be hauling around. It will be a good work out.

Nine cantaloupe in the refrigerator

Terry called the house one morning when I was home to tell me that the five tom turkeys had met up with some hens and adolescents from this year and were walking around on the north side of the farm. I got my camera and went out to have a look. I walked slowly toward them and they walked away from me at exactly the same rate. I could only tell which ones were chicks when they were next to the adults.

The turkey chicks are only a little smaller than the adults

It’s good to know that some of them survived and are big enough to make it through the winter.  As best I could tell there were four chicks. Their heads seem to be blue.

Four chicks together. Their heads look blue.

In this photo, the chicks are on the left, and the toms are on the right. The toms are showing off their red snoods and waddles.

The toms (right) show off their snoods and wattles (in red)

The wild cucumbers are going crazy. They are native plants and seem quite aggressive. I don’t remember noticing them before I moved here. Now I see them everywhere. I suppose they have been growing all summer long, but when they send up their white spikes of flowers, they are much more visible, carpeting the trees and shrubs underneath. Unlike domestic cucumbers, the fruits have spines. They also have a fibrous interior which will persist well into next summer, looking like a small loofa. Wild cucumbers are one of summer’s last hurrahs. Autumn is definitely on the way. How sad.

Wild cucumbers signals the end of summer

Sneezeweed

My, my, the chicks are getting big! Terry found one of the Whiting True Blues outside the fence one evening and asked me if I was sure it wasn’t one of the hens. As luck would have it, I had remembered to count to six before I shut the door on Coop 2 that night. Terry opened the gate to Coop 1, and the errant pullet (I suspect it was Amelia, our wanderer) walked right in.

Amelia Noire, the adverturer

Here’s a group shot of all but one of the Dominiques as they came out to inspect some cantaloupe rinds. This was their first time, and they didn’t quite know what to make of them.

Pullets inspect cantaloupe rinds

The hens, on the other hand, thought the scraps were the best thing ever, especially the seeds.

Bianca is no longer white. Her chest feathers are coming in a dark brown. Frankly, it makes her look untidy, but it’s not fair to judge.

Bianca's brown chest feathers

You may have heard (or not) that you can tell the color of the eggs a hen will leg from her earlobes, at which point you probably thought, “Chickens have earlobes?” When I was out taking pictures, I noticed that I could actually see Carmella’s earlobes, which if you use your imagination are kind of blue.

Carmella's earlobe

The wild turkeys make the rounds every day. Terry watches carefully that they don’t go near the garden. He has been known to hop up in the middle of supper to run out after them, yelling and clapping his hands. It’s quite a spectacle.

One evening, I saw a bird that did not match the usual profile of the familiar robin.

A new visitor to the lawn

I didn’t get a great picture, but this view shows the characteristic yellow breast and black chevron of the Eastern meadowlark.

It's an Eastern meadowlark!

Out in the butterfly garden, the sneezeweed (Helenium autumnale) is blooming profusely. It is providing food for many insects. In particular, the soldier beetles are having a huge party and mating frenzy.

Soldier beetles mating on sneezeweed

Here is a flower that is hosting a well-camouflaged yellow larva of some sort.

A yellow larva on a yellow flower

I also saw a number of bees, like this small bumble bee.

A small bumble bee

And this one, with its pollen sacs full.

A solitary bee with full pollen sacs on back legs

Here’s another one. I don’t know if it is the same or different from the previous bee. It doesn't seem quite as hairy and is smaller.

Another solitary bee with full pollen sacs--maybe a different species?

Notable in its absence is the European honeybee. All the bees I saw were solitary. I’m happy to be supporting the native bees, although I do wonder why the honeybees don’t find the sneezeweed attractive. Maybe they don’t like to compete with the soldier beetles.

Harbingers of fall

Summer is essentially over. Retired people, such as my dear Terry, are quick to point out that summer officially ends at the equinox. I live by the academic calendar. Convocation is tomorrow. Next thing you know, it will be Christmas. Whoosh.

A sure sign that autumn is coming is the shedding of the acorns. Deer and turkeys are constant visitors. This doe and her twins showed up one evening. In this picture, the turkeys are visible in the background.

Mama deer, right; twins, left; turkeys in background

Here’s one picture of the twins.

What are YOU looking at?

And another in which their spots are more visible.

Fawns still have spots

I walked out to my restoration area because Terry told me the cardinal flowers were blooming. I was disappointed that there were not nearly as many of them. They are being crowded out by smartweed. I suppose I’ll have to try to control that someday. Or maybe conditions next year will be different, and the cardinal flower will hold its own.

Cardinal flower--so vividly red

The butterfly garden that I planted by the garden shed is going crazy. When I put the puny starts in the ground last summer, I could not imagine that it would matter that my garden was a good deal smaller than the recommended size. I could always divide the plants later, I thought. I’m going to have to get on that next spring.

My very crowded butterfly garden by the garden shed

The swamp milkweed by the shed flowered later than the common milkweed. It’s basically the only game in town for the monarchs, and they are swarming it. I counted 10 at one time.

Monarchs on the swamp milkweed

The monarchs like the meadow blazing star as well.

Monarchs on blazing start

The cherry tomatoes are starting to ripen. We have lots of green tomatoes on the standards, but they are slow to turn red. The floods set them back at least two weeks. If the frost is late, we can still get something.

The cantaloupe seem not to have been fazed at all. I know from experience that if left on the ground, insects and worms will invade them from the underside. In the past, I have used the straw that was formerly on the garlic to keep them off the soil. Last year we couldn’t get straw and put hay on the garlic. The hay decomposed. I thought about newspaper, but that would trap water after a rain. In the middle of the night, I thought of using some of Terry’s cocoa fiber mats. Perfect! It’s still literally a pain in the butt to lift each melon and slide the disk underneath. Even worse is putting deer netting over the top to keep the deer from taking one bite out of each melon. It also discourages the raccoons. Not much I can do about mice, but they tend to just burrow through one melon and take all the seeds out before starting on the next on. Terry has counted over 50 melons; we won’t be short.

Cantaloupe on cocoa fiber mats

We’d been picking a bit of corn from the earlier varieties ("Sugar Buns" and "Bodacious"—I don’t make this stuff up). Hilda had to take over the freezing after I cut the tip of my thumb off. On Sunday the vast majority of the corn was ready. I picked nearly 10 dozen ears.

Corn in the wheelbarrow

Dad shucked it all; Hilda de-silked. Most of the corn was perfect. Seven ears were too immature to freeze. Hilda set them aside for the chickens (best thing ever!!)

Shucked corn

When I was done making ratatouille with the surplus zucchini and pattypan squash, I went upstairs to help cut the kernels off the cobs. We put up 32 9-ounce bags, bringing the total in the freezer to 42. We will stop freezing it now. With respect to corn, we are ready for winter.

Monarchs at last!

I am late with this week’s post, I know. Last Friday, I neatly whacked off the tip of my left thumb while trimming cobs of corn. This is the first time since that I have been able to have my hand level with my elbow without experiencing serious throbbing pain. I wasn’t up to typing a whole blog post with my right hand while my left hand was elevated.

For years, we have been working on establishing populations of various milkweeds to support monarch butterfly reproduction. Common milkweed colonized the hay field on its own. I planted butterfly weed behind the tractor shed when we moved here. It grew to nearly 6 feet in diameter but is now being outcompeted by bee balm and purple cone flower. It has, however, spread to two other locations by the garage. I spread seeds and transplanted seedlings of swamp milkweed into my wet meadow restoration. The rain did not cooperate, and the seedlings died. I was gratified to see swamp milkweed blooming this year.

Swamp milkweed

Over the years, I have walked through the field looking for damage on the milkweed leaves, the most observable sign of monarch caterpillars. Nothing. Imagine my excitement when I saw this caterpillar on a volunteer butterfly weed by the house!

Monarch caterpillar on butterfly weed by the garage

I checked another butterfly weed by the garage, and found another caterpillar.

And by the tractor shed

When I went out with Hilda to show her the caterpillars, we saw this little toad on the sidewalk. It was not quite as cute as a just-metamorphosed tadpole, but still adorable. We moved it to a safer location.

Cute little toad on the sidewalk, slightly larger than the tip of Hilda's finger

On my next walk through the hay field, I found one caterpillar on common milkweed. I’m sure there must be more, as we have had an exceptionally high number of adults around this year.

Monarch caterpillar on common milkweed in the hay field

The wet meadow is doing well. We started trying to control the reed canary grass this year. Next year we need to get out when the grass is shorter. Our herbicide application this year merely killed the ends of the blades. The bottom is doing just fine.

Obedient plant is spreading.

Large population of obedient plant

Black-eyed Susan is blooming.

Black-eyed Susan

This plant is new this year. I think it is square-stemmed monkey flower.

Square-stemmed monkey flower

Also new this year is New York ironweed.

New York Ironweed

Because Hilda forgot to ask me for my vacation dates before calling the butcher, she and Terry had to wrangle the chickens into the cages without me. When I got back, we had only six hens and six pullets. They are still in separate coops because the pullets are too small to hold their own against the hens.

I have mentioned before, but it bears repeating. Chickens are very Zen. Everything that comes there was is the best thing ever. Because Hilda spoils them rotten, they are accustomed to getting scratch grains every afternoon when she comes out to collect the eggs. As soon as Hilda (or anyone, actually) walks toward the orchard, they come a-running to the gate. In this video, you can see them surround Hilda, take a little practice lap under the coop, and hop up on the box where the treats are stored. One of the black stars jumps up to peck Hilda’s arm in her excitement. This moment is the best ever! I should learn more from chickens.