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This farm lies along the Coosawattee River floodplain. Cultures have resided right here by this river for over ten thousand years, and archaeological sites are fenced off or otherwise indicated in several places on this particular piece of land. What isn’t marked on any map are the sinkholes that punctuate the periphery of some of the fields. My father-in-law came to a stop in one of the combines, on what appeared to be solid ground, only to have that ground fall out from under one side a few minutes later. Looking beneath the harvester a six-foot-deep cavern had revealed itself. We had to borrow a backhoe to dig it out the next day.

Nonetheless, picking and trucking continues. We’ve filled over twenty-five trucks so far and are about two-thirds finished here. If the weather holds we’ll soon be done here, the equipment will move on to our other fields, and the field road dust can settle once again.

Autumnal Equinox

Summer ends. We are grateful now that the tomatoes are spent and that we have corn to harvest. Fourteen truckloads have lumbered out from the first hundred or so acres, filled to bursting with a thousand golden bushels each. The next field picked won’t have nearly as much yield, Brad expects, but it will still be worth picking, and with 150 acres remaining to harvest here we will meet our contracts and continue on. We know we are lucky this year.

filling a truck

The severe weather laid waste to much of my canning plans, but we did manage fourteen quarts of green beans and around seventy quarts of tomatoes, sauce, and salsa.

green beans

Battles with squash bugs largely lost, we hope to make enough butternuts and spaghetti squash to eat, but it is as yet to early to tell. For now Brad focuses on harvesting and the seasonally requisite mechanical work, as one combine loses a wheel, the other overheats… I focus on homeschooling and keeping the hearth tended, enjoying the turning of the year, my youngest turning three, and the shifting from outward to inward as the work load lightens and gardening projects wind down. At the Equinox, may we all find balance, and for those who celebrate, happy new year!

Sauce Happens

tomato sauce

The cabinet is filling up, and we have officially moved beyond the simple canned tomato! Brad combined Romas with peppers and basil from our garden and onions and garlic from his brother’s to make this sauce. It’s slow going but we are more than halfway done. I like to have at least fifty jars put up before the season finishes out, plus sauce and salsa. We’ll do another sauce batch this week and hopefully some salsa as well… I’m going to need more jars…

Lughnasadh

Halfway between summer solstice and fall equinox, today marks another turn of the wheel of the year with the traditional first harvest festival, Lughnasadh, and we are in full swing canning tomatoes.

pressure canning tomatoes

The pressure canner made its maiden voyage, no one was decapitated, and we now have twenty-something quarts of tomatoes with more to come. Our five-year-old discovered that she loves tomato juice, so we hope to put up a few batches of that as well, and today I aspire to begin cooking sauce.

We did get some crucial rain, our crops continue to survive… we learned this year that when corn tassels during extreme temperatures like we had the first week of July, it won’t pollinate. Our fields are staggered but we’ve seen some of this in the sweet corn we’ve been picking: spotty kernel formation, big gaps on the ears, sometimes nearly nothing at all. We have been more fortunate than many– we’ll still make a crop– but the final measure will be made at the grain elevator in the fall.

The veggie patch may have been saved by its dampness and our delayed planting earlier. Look at the sunflowers!

my happy place

Most still looks good…

veggie patch: eggplant, basil, tomatoes, sweet corn

Melons are just starting to get ripe. Hopefully this means a few weeks of market sales.

melons!

Wishing everyone a happy harvest and more rain as needed!

Waiting For Rain

Today saw 104 degrees. Stepping outside, the breeze that normally cools the porch felt instead like the rush of heat from an open oven. Crossing the yard, grass crunches underfoot like leaves in fall. Yield losses mount as we try not to watch the skies. Even the corn looks to be holding its breath, folding itself up against the oppressive heat and high pressure. A quick walk around the field roads left me drenched and exhausted.

the popcorn patch

The milk thistle shows its evolutionary wisdom: to survive, it must die.

milk thistle, fully dried down

 

Although the air was so hot it felt difficult to breathe, the drying clover along the field ditches smelled like honey, and even the browning grasses held their own special beauty.

We celebrated our daughter’s fifth birthday on Tybee Island, Georgia, earlier in the week. We returned home to discover the chicken pen project was complete! Notice the windows on the coop!

chicken fence and coop

The fence is secured along the ground, with trenches dug out and PVC pipe stabilizing the bottom edge so that our next batch of chicks will be just as safe as the larger birds. The compost is contained inside the fence so the birds will have access to it.

meat chickens

These boys are nearly grown; almost all the birds are contained now. Tonight Brad hopes to catch the three remaining rogues and put them in with the others.

I passed the heifers’ pasture at the end of my walk. Some had ventured out from the shade for a drink:

thirsty pregnant heifers

Brad and Max waited for the sun to go down before working in the veggie patch, staking tomatoes until they couldn’t see. Tomorrow we’ll all continue where we left off today, stopping when it gets too hot and waiting for the rain.

 

 

Summer Solstice

Now it is summer!

Dinner on the longest day, all from right outside the door except the tomatoes (from a fellow farmer, ours aren’t quite ready yet) and the dressing ingredients:

summer solstice salad

Cherokee red and romaine lettuces, borage and nasturtium blossoms, and a bit of yellow tomato made this hands-down the most colorful salad I have ever eaten. I mixed up a simple honey yogurt dressing to balance the spicy nasturtiums and the slight bitterness of the lettuce. Vibrant!

We are in a hot-and-dry spell here, making hay and waiting for rain.

walking east toward the hay barn

stacking up for winter

Different patches of corn indicate planting dates by size. The popcorn patch went in last:

popcorn patch in front of the house

The sweet corn in the veggie patch is a bit older:

bicolor sweet corn in the veggie patch

The field corn, planted first, stretches skyward from the veggie patch to the Coosawattee River, obstructing the long views afforded by soybeans in the same fields last year. I wondered whether it may be literally as high as an elephant’s eye, but had no elephants on hand to test that hypothesis.

field corn, this much of it over my head, about two feet

hot, dry sky

around five months old

Corn isn’t the only thing growing in these fields– the calves are getting big, and most of the mamas are bred again. We have been waiting anxiously for the veggie patch to dry out before losing more tomato and pepper plants; now we wait for rain and enjoy the longest day.

I have made my peace with many invasive species. Kudzu, for instance, bears lovely grape-smelling flowers that can be used to make jelly, its roots ground into flour, its vines woven into baskets, and the sculptures it makes of the lowly yellow pines reminded me as a child of Big Bird’s friend, Snuffleupagus. This invader, however, I do not forgive:

Japanese beetles devouring borage

Japanese beetles emerge in droves in June, seemingly out of nothing, showing preference for the prettiest garden dwellers and turning their leaves to lace. Their shiny colorful shells mock me: I have no need to hide! I am not native! You have no natural predators for me here! Bwa-haha! I grumble and curse at the sight of them and go get a small bucket of water to drown them in before I begin watering the raised beds. I put my gloves on so I won’t feel their prickly, grabby legs as I pluck them off the borage and my lime hydrangea. Yes, I know the borage is delicious, and you may not have it, now die, you wretched pests. I suppose gardening would be incomplete without some casualties…

prisoners of war

In better news, my days-long weeding efforts paid off, and now those raised beds have become the easily maintained wonders I had hoped they would be.

various tomatoes and an eggplant

The Cherokee red lettuce did recover and is thriving. It is reported to be heat tolerant and so far is proving itself worthy indeed of this north Georgia climate.

Cherokee red lettuce between gourds and nasturtiums

The nasturtiums are now blooming, bright yellows and oranges and reds beneath their lilypad-like leaves.

“jewel mix” nasturtiums

The borage is thriving despite the beetle invasion:

borage

And….

blueberries!

At last the blueberries are ripening. Hooray for June!

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