Wire cages and tales of caution

Fruit Guantanamo

A couple of years ago, when we put in our 30 berry plants and 15 fruit trees, we decided to construct chicken-wire cages to go into the ground around the plants to protect the roots from gophers.  It made planting a lot more difficult (especially making sure the dirt was packed firmly with no air pockets as we filled in our holes) but seemed a prudent insurance policy against vermin.

One of our original raspberry cuttings never sprouted, so last year I pulled it out (along with its wire cage) and re-planted the hole with a new raspberry bush -- no wire cage this time.  Since gophers had left all the plants alone for a year, I figured we'd been too paranoid about the whole wire cages thing.

And then two days ago I spotted gopher mounds in the pasture.  All the plants were fine -- except -- you guessed it, that one raspberry bush which did not have a cage around it.  It was dead and withered. When I dug about a foot away from it, I clearly found the underground gopher hole that had allowed the little critter to tunnel in and eat the root system of the bush -- enough to kill it from the ground up.

This is a common theme of farming, where you begin cautiously, have success, and let down your guard a little, or sometimes a lot.  It happens with livestock, it happens with canning, and it happens with vegetable growing.  Oh, you're supposed to rotate your crops every year?  But you've grown tomatoes in the same spot for three years with no problems!  So you plant in the same spot, one more year, and find you're devastated with soil-borne disease this time around.  Sterilizing the Mason jars before canning?  Well, you used to, but over the years you kind of stopped doing it....and then one of your jars pops open in your pantry because it's become so ripe with bacteria it de-pressurizes itself.

It's an almost-guaranteed human behavior.  We get away with letting our guard down until one day, it finally catches up with us. 

The best farmers only have to learn the hard lessons once, or not at all.  The truly excellent ones can learn from others' bad and good experiences without having to experience things for themselves.  You know, kind of like the hot stove analogy.  They see someone else get burned and don't touch the thing.

Terrible farmers have to learn their lessons again and again as each season presents its classic difficulties:  the fox in the henhouse, the grubs in the planter beds, or the gophers in the raspberries.  It's Groundhog Day, and sometimes with actual groundhogs. They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different outcome.  But perhaps another definition is when you tamper with proven success by slacking off and expecting all will be well.

Next spring we will be expanding our berry bushes and you can bet there will be wire cages around everything -- maybe double wire cages, and perhaps even sentries with shotguns in perimeter towers.  (OK probably not that last one.) 

The point is, while I can't always help when mistakes get made, I sure as hell can make sure they don't happen twice.

Berries and Mastodons

This week I came down with a weird summer cold, which I caught from my other son when he came to visit last week.  Much more of a chest cold than a head cold, but the main symptom which laid me out for a couple of days was a total, aching fatigue -- the kind that puts you into bed for at least a day, and on the sofa for at least another one after that.

While I was convalescing, Big Ag took over all the crop watering and berry-picking, which proved an interesting test to our marriage.  For while I was grateful for all the help he provided (which he did in addition to his own farm chores) when he returned the first evening after berry- picking, I was mortified to find he'd picked at least a pound of unripe berries, which would now be useless for anything.

I wanted to shout at him and then just cry when I saw all those beautiful, unripe berries in that big basket.  But instead, I just quietly threw them in the compost when he wasn't looking and thanked him for standing out there and picking all my berries after an already long day of work. I didn't shout or cry, because it would have been unkind and undeserved.

In the end, the over-picking actually worked out well, since it gave me a couple of days to convalesce without having any berries ready to pick at all, since anything close to being ripe had already been picked off.  And by the time I went back down to our rows of olallieberries, raspberries and blackberries three days later, there was a decent enough harvest that the ones we threw out won't matter in the end.

But this does prove my theory once again that most men are well-suited for big picture, stalking-a-mastodon-off-in-the-distance kinds of tasks, and most women are better suited to fine detail work, such as berry-picking or something like embroidery.  I don't understand how he could not tell the difference between the ripe and unripe berries -- both by sight as well as by the feel of the berry itself when you grasp it between your thumb and forefinger. But then again, sometimes he doesn't understand why I can't visualize a big-picture plan he has as well as he can.

This is not an across-the-board assessment, of course.  There are some men quite gifted at fine-detail work, so please don't think my theory holds out in all instances.  I'm the first to tell you it doesn't.  But in general, I have found it to be true ... perhaps 75 percent of the time?

Now Big Ag has my cold and is simply working through it -- perhaps because his big-picture mind doesn't focus on the fine-detail aches and pains of his ailment as much as I did when I was sick, and he's therefore better suited to soldier on, despite his discomfort.

But it also proves out another theory -- that opposites attract for good reason.  And whether you're picking a life partner from the opposite sex or your own, finding someone with a different skill set than your own is wise for many, many reasons.  

Not the least of which are berry-picking and mastodon hunting.

Bounty

This is the height of our farm's growing season, and I have a full refrigerator and freezer because of it.  So far, I've harvested approximately eight pounds (yes, pounds!) of berries, more salads than we can eat, lots of snap peas, and my first spinach crop since moving here is just about ready to blanche and freeze.  If posting is a little light right now, that is the reason.  When crops are heavy, posting is sparse ... just like spare time.  Makes sense, right?

I've also been dealing with the usual varieties of pests.  I've had birds in the berries, earwigs and a few aphids on the lettuce, and I believe the squirrels ate most of my ripening blueberries.  But with such a great harvest, I'm not all that upset about sharing some of the excess with the creatures who live here. None of the pest problems have overwhelmed the abundant harvest, which I think is a combination of learning the land and getting lucky with the weather.  We had no late-season frost, and no winds that I was not prepared for.

Speaking of the creatures who live here, I was pouring wine at the winery yesterday when a gopher snake came slithering up onto the patio.  Before any customers noticed, I went in and got one of the owners, who quickly caught it and placed it back out in the vineyard, where it could live another day to do some useful gopher control.  

Everything's showing up in robust abundance right now. Hope it's the same wherever you are!

Working Weekend

I can't remember what we used to do on weekends, back when we lived in the suburbs of the San Joaquin Valley and were dreaming about moving to the country.  I guess we spent a lot of time driving over here and exploring, once we'd decided to start looking for houses over here, but before then it's a blur.  I suppose I read farm blogs and magazines and imagined what life would be like if we had some acreage and weren't surrounded by houses everywhere.

Either way, our weekends now are filled with hard work and well-deserved pleasures after that work is done for the day (even if it's only soaking in a hot bath and getting clean).  This weekend was a mix of work outside -- laying bark, watering orchards and berry patches, building fence, and occasionally stopping to bask in the fresh air and blue skies.  

Last night we treated ourselves to a special Valentine's dinner at the local winery.  There was a six course meal with wine parings for each one.  On the menu were things like oysters, wild local mushroom soup, and pork osso bucco which was absolutely amazing.  After a day spent outside working, it felt wonderful to get dressed up and meet up with a great group of people for some amazing local food and wine.   This morning we got up, refreshed from the break, and hit it hard again out in the pasture and yard.

While I've been out there this weekend, I can't help but notice that spring has sprung, or is in the process of doing so:

Raspberries have leafed out

Bing Cherries are budding 

Blueberries are almost ready to blossom

People talk about the holiday season as being a "blessed" season, but I think spring's blessings are just as sweet, as the soil and all that grows in it wake from winter's slumber and start sending shoots towards hopeful, happy blue skies.