Irrigate in Blocks

Week two of irrigating the field. 

Revolutionary. 

I will never water the same way again.

The entire 7+ acres is separated into blocks and irrigated all at once, mixed veggies and flowers regardless. Instead of running around turning individual beds on and off, you slip on a flat hose and water sixteen beds at a time. We irrigated 5 acres of dozens of different crops of different ages in an afternoon.

Impressive. The scale has perhaps convinced me I may want to grow more.

Salad Mix Kid

I read a chapter from Organic Inc. for class yesterday and it blew my mind. I suppose that I never fully grasped how all of the different parts of my life, from my many different stages and fazes, are interconnected. The chapter described the evolution of the Salad mix revolution, the beginning of salad in bags, of spring mix, of baby greens. 

Most attribute that revolution to Earthbound Farms, started in Carmel Valley, walking distance from my middle school. Others attribute it to Todd Koons- Salinas Valley tycoon, friend of my present boss Deborah, who I run in to at Christmas parties, and Mill Valley social affairs.  In addition the article made vague mention of other smaller companies that were bought out early in the competition for salad mix king, and one of those was started in my mother's backyard by my late step father, Jake Hougham.  From the beginning of the 15 page article, that spanned multiple geographical areas; Salinas, Carmel, Santa Cruz, New York- until the finale where Earth Bound trumps all, my life story was interwoven with the articles' cast of characters. Even seemingly random connections like houses that my dad built for the managers of Earth Bound gave me chills. 

And when the UCSC Farm and Garden was mentioned as an inspiration to go organic, I looked out from our Farm Center deck and laughed to myself. I felt like my whole existence and purpose had been wrapped up into some strange history of the small green leafy trend that swept the nation a dozen years back. 

Some times it's nice for me to think that this means my life has one grand meaning behind it all, some greater significance, but then again maybe it means nothing more than the fact I grew up in Central California, a child of farmers and contractors- a salad mix kid. 

A growing addiction

Please excuse my prose as I humbly search for a grand metaphor to equate photosynthesis with my life and learning experience at this moment.

Today I fully came to realize and appreciate that the photosynthetic growing power that produces all green matter is attributed to the timely intersection of Light from the sun, Water from the sky (or pipe), and Carbon Dioxide. When combined they make Carbohydrates- or Sugars, the building blocks of life. 

Rudimentary but Extraordinary. 

Taking a metaphorical step out on a very shaky rhetorical branch-- my current explosion of brain synapse is the combination of:

  Light; wisdom from the garden, my teachers, and my peers

Water; my blood coursing through my veins as I learn the irrigation systems of the field

(and) 

Carbon Dioxide; the precious breaths of fresh air that comes wafting over the grass fields from the Monterey Bay as I work. 

Today they came together and created Sugar, the sweet syrup of inspiration- feeding my growing addiction. 

In the Field

It seems fitting to be bumping up production just as the summer solstice flies by. I have made the transition from the Chadwick garden to the Field- where most of the $100,000 worth of produce that supports our program is grown. The Field area is comprised of 5 acres of row crop vegetables, along with assorted grains, limited fruit trees,  a patch of blueberries, and a perennial flower garden. It is a radically different reality from the magical garden on the hill where I just spent my last six weeks.

None the less- it’s beautiful. It’s a bit confusing for those of us who have only worked in hand-cultivated market gardens to be suddenly surrounded by such an immense quantity of food- beats, broccoli, chard, turnips, basil, lettuce—all in 300 foot rows. As I stood there this morning, hula hoe in hand I can’t say that I wasn’t intimidated. And when Liz explained that we wouldn’t be needing our hallmark forks and spades this rotation- I can’t say I didn't feel uneasy. Field anxiety sets in. How to farm with mechanical cultivation 101. 

New roots

It seems like every week I’ve decided upon a new thing to do, a new thing to grow, a new possible future. But I swear, this is it. Perennial flowers. What better thing to ground my life and existence then that? What if I planted flowers that begged me to root myself? Ones that demanded intensive energy for years before they flowered? That encouraged me to set up a growing plan for myself, a development model based on long term sustainability and also created opportunities for a constant presence of being.

Flowers.

Perennial Flowers.

I’ve begun to make cuttings in secret from the up garden. Shush. Don’t tell.

Morning Rose

I awoke my last day in the Chadwick garden, 

dew on my covers,

pie on my breath,

vague memories of late night kitchen dancing, soft light and laughter

looking up  into the fog caught slipping through the redwoods

I awoke my last day in the Chadwick garden,

wood chips pressed into my cheek, my fellow farmies stirring 

the banksia rose arbor our four poster bed

A new cut

Living in a tent and showering outside- sharing a shower with 40 people and spending the day in the bush--- falling asleep with a wet pillow and getting caught in the apple trees while thinning.

being greasier than i've ever imagined being.

Such things have made my mane to hard to handle.

Therefore, last night. we took sizers to it- and cut the damn thing short.

16 inches and a little locks for love later

Freedom belongs to my head!

The lower left pocket

The boys dug out a new area of the garden today.

Cleared dangerous brush and engineered terraces.

so momentous was their accomplishment, 

they bought wine and held an evening soirée.

they built a table on the trunk of the first apple tree Orin planted in the garden some forty some odd years back.

bedecked with two buck chuck and goat cheese it stood testament to it's history. Continued in use of revelry. 

as the sun went down we drank, sang, and marveled over the newly planted peppers 

we christened the new area- the lower left pocket.

Flowers

I think that I've always loved flowers.

- But perhaps that's an assumption.

This last week I found new meaning in the phrase- love flowers.

True- I have had my breath taken away,

and found an impossible urge to stare, gawk, and flirt.

But my courtship with arranging at Camp Joy, and our Dahlia operation on Ocean Street were mere child's play. An extended courtship at best.

After watching my teachers arrange from a dozen buckets as the afternoon sun dripped down the hill- I had an epiphany.

Like a wave crashing I realized- I am in love.

Suddenly my motivations over the years came together in one defining roar. Why so many times I gently caressed soft stems into buckets. Why I stayed after class to continue my pursuit of asexual reproduction. Why I braved blood and pushed through briars of roses to pluck out the most succulent of them all.

Looking back on what I considered love before, I realize now that I had only been eyeing the tip of the iceberg. Looking forward I can imagine that this love will be one deepened over the course of a lifetime.

Apple LIght

I took cuttings after work today. Basking in the still silence of the after work empty Chadwick garden and enjoying the way that the apple leaves create a shimmery light throughout the space. I plodded about, eyeing perennials with new empowered passion.