This week’s blog post is brought to you by: Liz!
To those of you who haven’t met me, I am a current employee of the Blandford Farm: signed on through October! *Applause*
I am still learning a lot about the plants I help to grow, and how to maintain a farm. I want to have my own farm one day, but I still have a lot to learn. So instead of sharing a specific piece of knowledge, I am going to share a few snapshots of what it’s been like for me to work here this season.
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The sweet acidic taste of a cherry tomato still warm from the sun explodes in my mouth as a line of sweat drips down my back. It’s been collecting in little droplets between my shoulder blades for the last half hour. A slight breeze feels delicious, if only for a few seconds. Somewhere ahead of me in the tomato jungle, a work-share is harvesting, too. I wonder if we’ll be able to sell all these tomatoes at the market tomorrow?
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When Aaron told me that I’d be taking the newly fashioned, air-conditioned-cooler-trailer to market for the first time, I was a little worried. Because that meant backing up the newly fashioned, air-conditioned-cooler-trailer. But I figured I’d just tie on my Rosie-the Riveter bandanna, roll up my sleeves and get to it. I had practiced a bit at the farm (backing up near the barn), and when I got to the market, everything went smoothly and without a hitch. (See what I did there? Hitch! …hitch, trailer…yeah…never mind.)
At any rate I’m only kidding. I made a complete mess of it. A neighboring vendor or two kindly came running over to offer assistance, while the others quietly took bets on how long I’d take to get it right. I can’t prove that last statement. But if I were them, that’s what I’d be doing. It took me what felt like an eternity, amidst shouts of friendly and conflicting advice, but I finally, FINALLY got it.
Now, a few months later, I’m happy to report that I’ve been told “Wow, you’ve really gotten better with that thing, we hardly notice when you get here anymore!” I think she was the one taking bets. J
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Walking into the greenhouse at the beginning of the season is magical. It’s warm, and smells earthy and rich in a way that the frigid outdoors doesn’t. I soon shed my outer layers as we begin to seed. We end the day with scallions. Which, for those of you who have never seeded scallions, means counting to 14. A lot. It’s meditative, quiet, work. Quiet, because counting to 14 again and again is hard to do while carrying on a conversation. It takes a long time, but I don’t mind. There are worse ways to spend a Monday.
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There are so many more memories that I could share, but I’m afraid I’ve made this too long already. Thanks for reading!