Watch this:
In a world traveling at a hundred miles per hour, we are determined to slow down one acre at a time. We can't claim to be 'certified' anything or 'organic' this or that, but what we know is that we do things like our great-grandparents, with humility, integrity and respect for the animals, land, and forthcoming generations. Join us on an authentic journey of connecting with our community, our food, and our future.
Showing posts with label productivity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label productivity. Show all posts
Saturday, August 17, 2013
The Cha-Cha of Success
"Even though you are going completely backwards, you're still making progress."
Watch this:
Watch this:
Friday, August 16, 2013
Early Morning in August
Crickets. Frogs and toads. Birdsong. Hens 'talking' to one another. The hum of the ceiling fan. The gurgling of the last bit of water through the coffee pot.
These are the sounds of the early morning here at Hope Farms. Coupled with a temperature of just 60* Fahrenheit this fine sixteenth day of August makes the day ahead feel like a picnic even though there is much to be done.
Rain is coming in the forecast today, and about a month ago I would have shrugged my shoulders and shook my head, but this time it's welcome. The band on the radar shows a pretty heavy rainfall - even if it doesn't amount to much in inches - it looks like many short downpours are headed our way here at the foot of the Uwharrie Mountains.
There are seeds in the raised beds coming up - the germination rate is so very quick in this warm weather as compared to February or March - and I'm so looking forward to this next round of growing.
Renewed. Refreshed. Energized. That's how it feels to have the very welcome break in the heat this week.
The last six weeks have been difficult to say the least. At the farmers' market yesterday I was talking with a woman who has been coming to the market faithfully, just about every single week for the entire three seasons we've been there, and she was telling me that everyone she knows that had a garden this year did pitifully.
Tomatoes are hard to come by. Okra is offered by the handful instead of the bushel. Squash? HAHA! When usually one is sneaking on to neighbors porches with zucchini in 20+ pound packages, there is nary a one to be found right now. Well, maybe one. Like the one lone yellow crookneck squash I took to the market yesterday and gave to a fellow vendor when she came over to get some Swiss chard (what's left of it after the army worms destroyed 1/2 of the crop) and an eggplant (which are doing fairly well considering their latest attack by aphids).
Today, I'm going to plant more seeds than necessary. I'm going out on a limb - so to speak - because that's where the fruit is. The fall garden here at Hope Farms is going to ROCK! And as ever, with NO SYNTHETIC CHEMICALS. Ever.
These are the sounds of the early morning here at Hope Farms. Coupled with a temperature of just 60* Fahrenheit this fine sixteenth day of August makes the day ahead feel like a picnic even though there is much to be done.
Rain is coming in the forecast today, and about a month ago I would have shrugged my shoulders and shook my head, but this time it's welcome. The band on the radar shows a pretty heavy rainfall - even if it doesn't amount to much in inches - it looks like many short downpours are headed our way here at the foot of the Uwharrie Mountains.
There are seeds in the raised beds coming up - the germination rate is so very quick in this warm weather as compared to February or March - and I'm so looking forward to this next round of growing.
Renewed. Refreshed. Energized. That's how it feels to have the very welcome break in the heat this week.
The last six weeks have been difficult to say the least. At the farmers' market yesterday I was talking with a woman who has been coming to the market faithfully, just about every single week for the entire three seasons we've been there, and she was telling me that everyone she knows that had a garden this year did pitifully.
Tomatoes are hard to come by. Okra is offered by the handful instead of the bushel. Squash? HAHA! When usually one is sneaking on to neighbors porches with zucchini in 20+ pound packages, there is nary a one to be found right now. Well, maybe one. Like the one lone yellow crookneck squash I took to the market yesterday and gave to a fellow vendor when she came over to get some Swiss chard (what's left of it after the army worms destroyed 1/2 of the crop) and an eggplant (which are doing fairly well considering their latest attack by aphids).
Today, I'm going to plant more seeds than necessary. I'm going out on a limb - so to speak - because that's where the fruit is. The fall garden here at Hope Farms is going to ROCK! And as ever, with NO SYNTHETIC CHEMICALS. Ever.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Backward & Forward - Or Is It The Other Way Around?
Whilst some folks are just now seeing the fruits of their labor in the garden, it is not the case here at Hope Farms. What some might see here are weeds, some failed crops, and some crops that haven't not only been transplanted yet, but some that haven't even been seeded yet.
The conclusion is painful, but must be admitted: Hope Farms, on opening day of the Stanly County Farmers' Market, was the only farm present with actual fresh produce being offered. There was kale, collards, Swiss chard, lettuces, radishes, carrots, onions, freshly-cut herbs and more. I don't even recall all that I had on the table, but it was a pivotal moment. To have had all of that by just April 13 after the coldest March on record in who-knows-how-long? But I digress.
That in itself is not the painful part.
The punch-in-the-stomach is this: there isn't enough being produced, right now, to support the busiest and largest market that we attend.
Chalk it up to inexperience. Rain. Bugs. Voles. Rain. Oh, and did I mention rain? How about wind? Yeah, all of the above. Maybe throw in some poor planning. But that would suffice within inexperience, yes?
Here's what it comes down to:
I cannot come to the market on Saturdays anymore until my fall crops begin to come in.
The goal is to be back to Saturdays at the Stanly County market by the beginning of September.
Meanwhile, we will continue to attend Mondays market at Stanly Commons from 10 am to 2 pm as well as Thursdays market in downtown Troy from 3:30 pm to 6:30 pm.
A great deal has been learned this year, folks, and one of the biggest and most important things I've come to know as priority is honesty.
So there it is. In all of its painful glorious honesty. Our small-timey farm is not big-time. And that's okay.
Those of you who cannot make it to those markets and would like to stop by the farm - please do not hesitate to call or e-mail (see tab above that says, "Contact Us.") We're more than happy to let you know what we've got available and make arrangements for you to pick it up.
There are many thanks to all of those who have supported us, no matter which market, through this season so far. We're very grateful for you!
The conclusion is painful, but must be admitted: Hope Farms, on opening day of the Stanly County Farmers' Market, was the only farm present with actual fresh produce being offered. There was kale, collards, Swiss chard, lettuces, radishes, carrots, onions, freshly-cut herbs and more. I don't even recall all that I had on the table, but it was a pivotal moment. To have had all of that by just April 13 after the coldest March on record in who-knows-how-long? But I digress.
That in itself is not the painful part.
The punch-in-the-stomach is this: there isn't enough being produced, right now, to support the busiest and largest market that we attend.
Chalk it up to inexperience. Rain. Bugs. Voles. Rain. Oh, and did I mention rain? How about wind? Yeah, all of the above. Maybe throw in some poor planning. But that would suffice within inexperience, yes?
Here's what it comes down to:
I cannot come to the market on Saturdays anymore until my fall crops begin to come in.
The goal is to be back to Saturdays at the Stanly County market by the beginning of September.
Meanwhile, we will continue to attend Mondays market at Stanly Commons from 10 am to 2 pm as well as Thursdays market in downtown Troy from 3:30 pm to 6:30 pm.
A great deal has been learned this year, folks, and one of the biggest and most important things I've come to know as priority is honesty.
So there it is. In all of its painful glorious honesty. Our small-timey farm is not big-time. And that's okay.
Those of you who cannot make it to those markets and would like to stop by the farm - please do not hesitate to call or e-mail (see tab above that says, "Contact Us.") We're more than happy to let you know what we've got available and make arrangements for you to pick it up.
There are many thanks to all of those who have supported us, no matter which market, through this season so far. We're very grateful for you!
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Farming Is....
I'm up late, or early, rather, as it is technically Saturday morning at 3 am. I've surveyed all the problems in the world and have determined that life is a lot like farming. "Farming is a profession of hope," said Brian Brett. There are so many things that resound with me regarding that statement.
Today was one of those days. It was great, it was tragic, and strangely simultaneously normal.
I'll break it down:
Eddie and I went on a field trip for homeschool - the Discovery Kids is a terrific way to show children how the imagination can trump a pile of worksheets any day. After several days of Language Arts, Math, Spelling and Science - we put the "hands on" into our learning day. We both had a great time. What we didn't do was take pictures. I opted for joining him in the fun, and so I did not traipse around with my camera. He especially liked the water "exhibit" where he pretty much got drenched, played with boats, and unknowingly learned about density, gravity, displacement, and pressure.
Sadly, whilst we were having fun, another baby chick in our brooder died. That's two in two days, too high of a mortality rate for this soft-hearted farmer. We buried the baby and talked about why, sometimes, life with animals is really difficult and sad. Farming is hard.
Later, upon watering seedlings, transplanting some Swiss Chard and Kale seedlings, I looked upon two of my cabbage patches to find that Hattie had helped herself to my early cabbages. So much for taking those to market. She had let herself out of the open gate that Captain Strong Arms had left ajar while he was picking up the manure to add to the compost pile. At first, I was seething, "damn cow!" I said. But when I realized she could have done so much more damage, I stopped and felt gratefulness creep in like a kind reprimand.
Sigh. Farming is frustrating. And scary. What if some of my crops fail? What if I have to resort to using chemicals to prevent a total loss of a certain variety to pests? What if Hattie gets out again? What if I'm not good at this?
Sometimes I wonder why we do it. The grocery store is just 8 miles away. The jobs are just over an hour's commute north, east, and west of us. Is it because it's in our hearts? A nagging sense of duty that cannot be shushed away? An unending call from day to day to grow, nurture, cultivate and share? Once in a while unwanted doubt creeps in and takes a seat, "you can't grow enough to support your family and a farmers' market. Who do you think you are? You don't know what you're doing."
Farming is sometimes full of self-doubt.
What are you cultivating?
I'm signing off. Breakfast is just a few hours away. See you on Facebook for amorning mid-day photo.
 |
| Photo by Shannon Thompson |
Today was one of those days. It was great, it was tragic, and strangely simultaneously normal.
I'll break it down:
Eddie and I went on a field trip for homeschool - the Discovery Kids is a terrific way to show children how the imagination can trump a pile of worksheets any day. After several days of Language Arts, Math, Spelling and Science - we put the "hands on" into our learning day. We both had a great time. What we didn't do was take pictures. I opted for joining him in the fun, and so I did not traipse around with my camera. He especially liked the water "exhibit" where he pretty much got drenched, played with boats, and unknowingly learned about density, gravity, displacement, and pressure.
Sadly, whilst we were having fun, another baby chick in our brooder died. That's two in two days, too high of a mortality rate for this soft-hearted farmer. We buried the baby and talked about why, sometimes, life with animals is really difficult and sad. Farming is hard.
Later, upon watering seedlings, transplanting some Swiss Chard and Kale seedlings, I looked upon two of my cabbage patches to find that Hattie had helped herself to my early cabbages. So much for taking those to market. She had let herself out of the open gate that Captain Strong Arms had left ajar while he was picking up the manure to add to the compost pile. At first, I was seething, "damn cow!" I said. But when I realized she could have done so much more damage, I stopped and felt gratefulness creep in like a kind reprimand.
Sigh. Farming is frustrating. And scary. What if some of my crops fail? What if I have to resort to using chemicals to prevent a total loss of a certain variety to pests? What if Hattie gets out again? What if I'm not good at this?
Farming is sometimes full of self-doubt.
 |
| Photo by Shannon Thompson |
It certainly isn't for the recognition - the fame, or the money - the fortune. Farming is developed. I was going to say it is in your blood, and while I do believe that to be true, I'd say that something can be in your blood without being embraced. It has to be developed. Cultivated.
What are you cultivating?
I'm signing off. Breakfast is just a few hours away. See you on Facebook for a
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Holding My Own Pen
When it is silent in the greenhouse, there is a lot of time for thinking. No noise pollution - just the singing of the birds - it is quiet. Often it takes some adjustment to hearing your own thoughts - we are so used to being conditioned to always be doing something; listening, watching, reading. I welcome the quiet of the greenhouse. It forces me to think about what I'm doing at that very moment. Being present takes getting used to.
What I thought about yesterday while starting lettuce seeds was, "Who are we?" Instead of the age-old adage, "We are what we eat," which is mostly true, I wondered, "What story are we writing with our lives?"
No answer came quickly, but as I painstakingly prepared the soil-less mix and counted each seed one by one, I began to realize that we are writing our stories as we go along.
Who (or what) is holding your pen?
What I thought about yesterday while starting lettuce seeds was, "Who are we?" Instead of the age-old adage, "We are what we eat," which is mostly true, I wondered, "What story are we writing with our lives?"
No answer came quickly, but as I painstakingly prepared the soil-less mix and counted each seed one by one, I began to realize that we are writing our stories as we go along.
Who (or what) is holding your pen?
 |
| Join me on Facebook |
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Farm School Field Trip & other useless info
Because I know all of you readers plan your days around mine, I thought I'd give you some useless information:
I'll be headed out early on our first field trip for Piedmont Farm School. I've got my muck boots ready and my camera packed.
Oh, and the duck is laying eggs in a nest. Just sayin'.
The radishes popped up today. I could almost see them in motion.
Yesterday's egg count: 12
Today's egg count: 10
Keep calm and farm on,
I'll be headed out early on our first field trip for Piedmont Farm School. I've got my muck boots ready and my camera packed.
Oh, and the duck is laying eggs in a nest. Just sayin'.
The radishes popped up today. I could almost see them in motion.
Yesterday's egg count: 12
Today's egg count: 10
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Un-doing
There are days when not one single productive activity happens on-farm. Today was one of those days. The day consisted of breakfast, some studying, a couple loads of laundry, lunch, a birthday party, a trip to town, supper, and then the bare minimum in regards to farm chores. Then, for dessert, graham crackers with some more studying, 2 essays, and 3 quizzes.
Some call this kind of day a loss. I call it a day of un-doing. Although there is always something to be done, on some occasions it isn't necessary to be so pressed that it becomes a burden.
With a farm, even one as small-timey as ours, most days are filled with to-do lists and not enough hours in the day. I'm grateful that we can occasionally take one day "off," if you can call it that.
Today's egg count: 10
Some call this kind of day a loss. I call it a day of un-doing. Although there is always something to be done, on some occasions it isn't necessary to be so pressed that it becomes a burden.
With a farm, even one as small-timey as ours, most days are filled with to-do lists and not enough hours in the day. I'm grateful that we can occasionally take one day "off," if you can call it that.
Today's egg count: 10
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)