Tag Archives: Books

Agriculture, Farming, Hawaii, Marketing, Uncategorized

Squash and Awe Podcast Interview

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I had the wonderful opportunity to be a guest on Jackie’s Organic Gardener Podcast this past Thanksgiving.  We spent just over an hour discussing all things gardening.  From books, to heirlooms, to soil building and more, we covered a lot of ground.  This interview was done the day after Thanksgiving, I chose that day, because it was the hardest year of farming  for me yet, and having just met my orders for Thanksgiving, I was so relieved that I was almost giddy. This talk shares some of the things I have experienced in my first years farming

Squash and Awe on Organic Gardener Podcast

While you are there, subscribe to her podcast and listen to all kinds of ideas on gardening!

Essays and Reflections, Farming, Hawaii

Stories in the Rain

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I’ve been waking when I should be going to bed. Restless with fatigue as I try to continue on through what seems like an endless list of “to dos.”  The dogs huddle in close trying to warm themselves after what feels like six straight days of soakings.  The drought has ended in floods.  My no-till patch is a bog of hops.  Sloppy mush coming up past my ankles and squash leaves bigger than dinner platters. My Hunter boots have given way with a leak where I put a pitchfork through them, and the top of my foot, six months ago. So now I have as much of the hops slurry on the inside of the boot as on the outside.  The rains fall heavy from dark grey clouds, continuing through the night, but ending every morning before returning again at mid day.  This unlikely deluge has changed Summer to Winter.  I’ve lost track of the names of the hurricanes turned tropical storms.  Each one crossing over the Hawaiian islands and loosing it’s bearings, a bit like me.  I may be sleeping when I should be relaxing, Then awake when it is time for bed.  I read a few pages here and there from a book I picked up from the sale rack while visiting UH Manoa’s campus.  It is a beautiful book that tells the story of another time in farming, a time that doesn’t have to be in the past.  I had high hopes of raiding the agriculture text books, but my visit coincided with the bookstore cleanup where students dumped armloads of books off and fled to their summer freedom.

Stacia Spragg-Braude writes in lyrical prose, describing the daily life of an extraordinary character who continues to farm against the odds.  The beautiful hardbound volume met me eye to eye and I new it would be my birthday present to myself.  (The book summary ) I was heading back to the Big Island, and as I often do, I fill my arms with books, hoping to find the words and wisdom to keep me going even in the darker moments.  As tonight’s rains pour off the roof in an audible cascade, I think about drought and how much I, like Evelyn in the book, thinks of water.  Here in the town where I hang my hat, there is a demarcation line of precipitation levels.  Wet side and dry side.  This year, and for several years prior, the weather, like that in much of the world has been just plain confusing.  The drought was here before the year 2001 when I first planted chili pepper plants and Florence fennel on a washed out hillside in Hamakua.  I learned how to care for banana trees, and would walk buckets of lilikoi (passion fruit) to the elderly neighbors who would know what to do with a bucket of fruit.

In the book, the author writes of how water remains on one’s mind a lot in the dry near arid farmland of Corrales, NM. I can relate.  I find myself starting conversations with, “We never got our Winter rains this year.”  I often get back a blank stare.  In this town, few people think in terms of scraping out a life from the soil.  The few vegetable growers that remain, many of which on small parcels, are being hit hard.  Not only is it an uphill battle to get any to buy local produce, when unusual weather hits, our inability to produce, in walking on water fashion, is considered a let down, or worse yet, failure.  Farming is 100% risk, but we hide that risk by taking the faces out of farming, and international produce brokers stuffing our state full of the vegetable version of fast food.  Chemically contaminated, harvested too young, low in nutrition, and on every plate. You don’t often get rewarded by doing it right.  Fast and cheap has lowered our standards.

So when deluge like conditions strike up country Hawaii, I have to take a moment to rethink all things.  When a five gallon bucket is half full overnight, it leads to a drastic change of strategy.  In the book, the farmers created their own irrigation system from the river.  Here, the creek overflows it’s banks on days like this, I watch it cascading by on it’s route to the ocean. Our farmland irrigation is borrowed from the much wetter parts of the island.  We are taking their bounty.  This creates a false view of water, where farmers can squirt irrigation every day, all day until their fields are filled with puddles.  Almost nobody bothers to improve the soil, so that it actually once again hold water.  Water just appears from somewhere else, and few are even grateful for it.  I remember having a talk about water conversation that fell on many deaf ears.  The farmers crinkled up their noses when I noted that our water reserves were hitting desperate times, and that we were warned to conserve. The general attitude is that they should water more, so that they “get their share” even if they don’t need the water.  They should take it, so someone else doesn’t get it.  I realized that day that I would never relate. I said my bit about building the soil, so to cut their water usage and benefit their plants.  I was laughed at and told that their soil was some of the best in the state.  Weeks later part of the USDA’s soil team visited us, and shook their heads in the same way I did.  For once, “big government AG” agreed with the rookie. The generation before me may be the only one that bred farmers that don’t think about soil health.  My Grandfather would roll over in his grave if he heard them speak.

I was raised in a community that was a lot more like the town of Corrales, or at least the communities that surrounded our farm were a bit like that New Mexico community.  Here, the plantations left a scar on everything that it touched.  Though we focus on the damage done to the land, equal damage was done in taking away the pull yourself up by the bootstraps way of thinking.  Here farmers are pitted against each other, and imported produce is king.  It is hard to stand tall as a community of farmers when someone is standing on your neck.  It has been this way for so long that many barely remember another way, though much of the shift toward the outside suppliers happened within the span of my lifetime on the planet.

The rains now stopped, and the dogs snore.  I find myself getting tired and mistyping the town of Corrales as Corvallis, a place where I WWOOFed in torrential rains in a strawberry patch, as hail fell into the Spring mud just over 3 years ago.  I remember rounding up the animals to shelter them from the hail, feeling grateful to maneuver a stubborn ram, three Nubian goats, and a huge and defiant horse into their shelter.  I was shaking with a healthy dose of fear and adrenaline as I got them all tucked into the open sided barn.  The hail stones stung on my face as the spooked horse stomped and eyed me in that big eyed way that horses do.  The horse had leveled a few in it’s day with one swift kick.  That afternoon, I saw a different side when I clearly put myself in harms way so to help him.  He knew, and kept his kicks to a minimum.  I returned to the farmhouse kicked off the boots, and shivered as I purged myself of raingear in the entryway.  The farm owner, who had inherited the farm, was tucked in with a cup of coffee, feet up in front of the fire.  She was confused at why the animals were brought in out of the hail.  I realized then, just weeks into my farming journey, that what is common sense to one, isn’t to another, and owning a farm doesn’t make you a farmer.  That bit needs to be earned.

Agriculture, Essays and Reflections, Farming, gardening

Facing Uncertainty on the Farm

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One of the topics that I must address is the challenge beginning farmers face in having to experience “newness” all of the time. Beginning farming, establishing markets, and trialling seeds surround you with a lot of change, just like what we all face when starting down any new path. Add in that we also have to deal very directly with working in an unpredictable work environment. Ever changing weather, climate, markets, all make for a shifting situation, in addition to learning to farm in difficult times. Too much change can be stressful, and it will keep us from being our best. Facing the unknown on a regular basis does have some upsides, especially if you remind yourself that it is a part of learning. There are many issues in agriculture that can get me rattled, but on a day to day basis, I find myself trusting the process, and embracing the many aspects that come with trying to move forward as a new farmer. Each time we try new things, we challenge ourselves to step free and clear of safe zones. You are leading, and moving forward with every experiment, even if your idea fails commercially. Pushing yourself into new directions is uncomfortable at times, especially because the financial risks can be great. We all know that risk taking can be stressful, but let’s step back for a moment and allow us to look at things holistically.

Yesterday, I was fretting and thinking that I should be planting more squash for our Nov-Mar high season. Instead, I was pouring 200 gallons of spent hops from our local brewery into the farm’s soil. Let’s look at this for a moment. Instead of fretting, I tried to stop and realize that the great haul of free soil building materials is a real gift. It is a gift that will nurture my plants all season long. By stopping and taking those opportunities, I have found that the healthier plants grow faster, resist disease, and often surpass the growth of plants that were planted earlier, but didn’t get the additional care that soil amendments added to their life.

It is normal to fret when looking at agricultural Calendars. Time ticks on regardless. The irony is that my friends in short season areas often have faster growing plants and more abundant harvests than we do in long season, but up and down weather that higher elevation Hawaii has. In Hawaii, one of the toughest questions to answer is “when do I plant?” I was getting plants in the ground in March, and they are not any bigger than the squash vines in May. Why? We had a strange weather pattern. The faith in continuing on, and soil building instead of worrying about timing helped me greatly. I now have healthy seedlings that are soaking up the benefits of my soil building, even though they were planted later. Late and healthy are better than “on time” and sickly. Too many are tempted to throw up their hands when things swerve off schedule, or when drought, pests, or weather sidelines us. All I can advise is don’t let yourself get too rattled.

In just the couple years that I have been farming, I have learned to throw in some radish, or mustard seeds when the cool weather stays too long. Why? You will have a happy take away to soften the blow. Yes, your heat loving commercial crop may be late, but often there isn’t a single thing you can do about it. You are not going to change the weather, worrying isn’t going to help you, so you may as well have some food in your stomach. I do it all the time. It keeps my farming fresh, and my ability to adapt becomes a comfort for me. Yes, I get disappointed as chefs want me to produce more, but the vines are not having it. The plants can hit the pause button, and that is how it is. The pressures of producing 24/7/365 is an absurd standard that no farm can do. Soil needs to rest, plants need to rest, as do farmers. We are more likely to let the soil and the plants rest before we do. I once had a talk with a distributor who believed that some farms produce everyday of the year, what she didn’t realize is that the produce that is coming into Hawaii is pooled together at warehouses. It isn’t from one farm. Nature doesn’t work like that.

Adaptability is hard, it takes practice, and I don’t always do it well. Before I lash out at the cloudy cold weather, the drought, the this, the that, I try to see it as and opportunity to do something else that needs some attention. Sometimes the one that needs attention is me, as the farmer. A strange stormy sky drove me indoors for one hour last week. High winds interrupted my flow. I decided to put my feet up and read a couple of farming articles. It was rejuvinating and I felt like that break actually put me forward. The skies cleared, and my mind thought about the words I had just read. I completed all of the work that needed to be done, and that break gave me an idea or two of things that I could do at the farm. It also reminded me of our shared experience. Farming isn’t always appreciated, and often it is made fun of by people who may not even realize that their words cut through you. Not all of us are surrounded by an immediate support team, so make sure to read the stories of others that are doing things similar to you.

I pick up memoirs of farmers, chefs, travelers and foodies. They are a great source of inspiration because their road isn’t easy either. If it was, it wouldn’t make for a very good book. Farming memoirs are popping up here and there, and they can be great to keep nearby. I happen to love William Woys Weaver’s book of vegetable essays 100 Vegetables and Where They Came From
It is the kind of book that inspires in snippets perfect for a short break. William Woys Weaver can make anything interesting. He is a historian, chef, educator, gardener, and seemingly, a pretty dynamic individual as a whole. Remind yourself that your actions matter, and celebrate your role in our food system.

Sometimes an injury drives me out of the field and garage completely. It can happen to us all. When I get hurt, be it a knot in my back, or a sprained hand, I try to take it as an opportunity to expand my photography, writing, research, or my kitchen trials. The injury can lead to inspiration. Like other unexpected events, we can react in many ways. Injuries make me very aware of plan B, especially since I am a one person farm. Everything is on my shoulders. Being injured may sidetrack us from our immediate plans, but it has made me make changes that were very positive. One change that came from one too many slips and twists was as simple as changing my shoes. One of my customers observed that I carry about with 40-50 lbs in my arms at most times. She was right. That can be 1/3 to nearly 1/2 of my body weight. When I twist an ankle, or turn on a slippery floor, the additional weight is felt, and it can cause injury. Making a simple change to wearing better shoes, even sporting running shoes, made my delivery days more enjoyable. The wider base for your foot, the arch support, and lightness all made for a better, safer day. I calculated that in one day I lifted and moved 1850 lbs so to set up a photoshoot for the Hana Hou Magazine photographer that was visiting the farm. It was just a few bushels of pumpkins, but they were lifted and carried back and forth as props. It adds up. With the change to better shoes, I found that I was working longer hours, but I was less tired.

I don’t really want to get injured, nor do I desire windstorms, but I also know that when you choose to garden or farm, you put yourself in a very physical job immersed in unpredictable conditions. Complaining about the weather is a bonding experience for many of us, but let’s remind ourselves that we can use those unpredictable times to push us in a new direction, to reinvent, rest, or seek inspiration. Let a scorcher of a day lead you to an ice cream cone once in a while. Open a book and rest your back. Your productivity may actually increase. We may help to motivate a new generation of farmers if we treat ourselves with the same care and respect with which we treat out soil, our produce, and our communities. So let’s farm by example, and do our best to roll with it.