Miolea Organic Farm

There were hundreds of little experiences with my grandparents, parents. aunts, uncles and in-laws, that when taken as a whole, have led me to where I am today.  My father liked to grow tomatoes and camp.  On those camping trips we somehow always ended up at a farm.  One of my earliest recollections was with my father stopping to buy eggs,  I remember him talking about the freshness of the eggs coming right from the farm.  He would buy fresh corn, tomatoes and whatever else they had.  That night my mom would make dinner with what was purchased.

My grandfather owned a restuarant for awhile and then sold fruits and vegetables in the city.  I can remember the smells the fast driving as he was picking up or delivering cases of fruits, vegetables and herbs.  Then there was my father-in-law who put a garden in every year and every year it seemed to get a little bigger.  He had perfect rows and would tend them daily often imparting bits of wisdom.  I love to cook but at the time I was still in college and didn't have a thought of growing anything.  But I loved his daughter and I wanted him to like me, so I helped and listened to him all the same. 

There is this paradox with what we do.  It is incredibly hard physically, mentally, emotionally and fiscally.  by the end of the growing season we are drained in every aspect of being.  Yet each year as winter turns to spring I start to get anxious.  I can't wait to hook the tiller up to the tractor and turn that years production garden under.  I'll hook up the water tanks to collect the spring rains and torture some poor plant by planting it early and trying to keep it warm in the frigid air.  Always testing ways to get things planted earlier then planned.

I'll dream of the corn and tomatoes to come while testing the soil temperature and waiting for the slightest change in weather.  But there are the long, hot, humid, sweaty days that will come with all this anticipation and the back breaking labor of planting, weeding and re-weeding.  I'll look back at what we earned last year, what pains we went through, how much time we spent and logically tell myself it just is not worth it.   

Then a small voice inside will say, "This is the year. This year will be the  year that we really make a profit.  Our name will get out and people will come to the farm and purchase".  I think of all the little simple acts that have taken place in my life and I know I'm where I'm supposed to be doing the things we do.  Besides who is to say, maybe this will be the year.

Buy Local - from a farmer not a chain hard selling the word.

The first year on the farm had its perils, like the time the phone company changed our phone number, without us initiating the task or them asking us if it was okay.  To top that off they wouldn't give us the new number because they said it was unlisted. 

One Friday evening my mother-in-law called us on the cell-phone.  "What is your new number?" "What new number" my wife asked? "I just called your house and the message said that your number has been changed to an unpublished number".  There were so many new situations that we were facing that this seemed par for the course.  But thinking back, when has the phone company ever changed your phone number without you asking for it and then they wouldn't give you the new number.  I mean we really have had off the wall occurrences to deal with.

We had already been through the "take an analog phone out side and plug it into the telephone poll" routine.  I kid you not; we had a problem with the line and called the phone company.  As part of the troubleshooting they wanted us to take an analog phone out and plug it into the network interface device or NID. 

We found it on the telephone poll, plugged the phone in and got a dial tone.  "Ok,” the technician said "the problem is with the line in the house".  They scheduled an appointment the coming week.  In the mean time if there was an emergency we could take the phone outside and plug it into the NID and call 911.  Does anyone remember Oliver climbing the telephone poll to make a call?  What a hoot, with the phone connected to the telephone poll I couldn't help but start to call family and friends and tell them I was using a phone outside plugged into the telephone poll. 

My wife hangs up with her mother and we call our home phone number.    "The number you have dialed has been changed to an unlisted number."  We hear the automated voice telling us.  So we called the phone company.  Yes the phone number was changed this afternoon.  "Okay, great," I say "can you tell us what the new number is?"  I'm getting ready to write the number down and I hear him say, "I'm sorry" Sorry?  For what? "The number is unlisted".  "Yes, that is what the message told us, but you know we are calling from our home and you can see our number, right"?  It didn't matter what argument we used they weren't going to give us the new number.    

We're thinking you can't make this stuff up.  Being resourceful is a great trait to have when working on the farm.  Things come up that you've never experienced and there is a need to deal with it or overcome it.  This was just another example of a problem that we hadn't anticipated or thought of.  The answer to this problem was simple.  All we did was call my wife's cell phone and presto, we had our phone number.  So much for paying an extra fee for an unlisted phone number.

So we got our new phone number and my wife says "Man, do you get the impression that Green Acres was a prep course for us?"  I had to laugh and simply agree.

Buy Local- from a farmer not from a chain pushing the word.

 After the persons surprise that often accompanies the answer, that yes we indeed do farm, we get asked about vacations.  "When do you take vacations,"  or "Now that summer is over what do you do?"  Work never stops, in the winter we are about as busy as during the growing season.  I'm just doing different work.  Work that takes a back seat during the growing season.  We still have it easier than the folks with big animals.

 You still have to take care of the chickens.  You have pre-winter activites like taking down the rain-water collection system.  Winterizing the water tanks and putting everything away.  You get the winter setup for the chicken houses out and ready for bitter weather and cover the strawberries with burlap.  Winter is the time to work on the tractor and tune up the small engines to get them ready for next year.  Fields need to be cleared of fallen trees.  Dead trees need to be harvested and cut into firewood. 

 We will go through about four thousand pounds of firewood (two cords)and three thousand pounds of wood pellets in the house.  It is all brought in a little at a time but it is almost a daily chore.  We heat the upstairs with the pellet stove and the first floor with a woodstove that is in the kitchen.  The wood stove sits in the original cooking fire place.  The fire place hearth is eight feet wide by six feet deep, the opening of the hearth at its peak is almost five feet five inches tall.  I've been told that I can not cook in it as much as I ask!

 The chickens are a daily task that cannot be skipped.  Some are kept in houses that have no floors so they can be moved onto new grass without having to let them out.  Others are in converted horse trailers and have to be let out every day.  This means they have to be closed up for the night too.  Then you have to make sure the water is not freezing and more importantly the chickens are not freezing.  They will eat more as a way of staying warm so restocking cycles pick up.  The Rhode Island Red comes from the north (Rhode Island coincedently) so they are pretty cold tolerant but they to are suseptable to the frigid cold.

 There is dragging the crusher-run driveway to smooth out the ruts and redistribute the stone bed.  Next up would be fixing doors, windows and any structural repairs that crop up.

 Of course winter is also when the Italian Cooking Classes really start to take off.  We'll teach bread making, pasta making and tomato based sauces.  We get to cook dishes we love to eat and do taste tests with the students.  Usually class will start off with a homemade dish for everyone to sample.  Then depending on the interest we'll go into knife safety, food borne illnesses or a range of food saftey topics.  From there it is into the thick of hands on cooking.

From a vegetable/fruit growers point of view, I think vacation is a good thought but is a misnomer.  Your work and responsibilities do not end they just shift and change a little. 

Buy Local - From a farmer not a chain that hard sells the word 

Frederick County held its Annual Family Fun on the Farm Festival this past weekend.  This is a time for people to come to different farms and learn what the farm is all about.  What sustainalbe practises are in place along with free range techniques and you get to taste actual food provided from the farm.  On Saturday it was cold and raining torrents but people showed up.  A lot of people showed up.  We partnered with Nick's Organic again this year.  I cooked on a cherrywood fire and Nick provided his organically raised beef. 

I cooked mostly hamburgers and beef sausages.  Nick brought out three new varieties of sausage this year and for the life of me I could not keep them straight.  Talk about embarrassing, but we did have fun with it.  We gave samples out and I asked the person what it tasted like; was it sweet, did you taste garlic, or sage?  He had Italian, Kielbasa, Bratwurst and Sage.  Three of the four looked the same.  Cut open I could tell one of the three was Italian because it had red peppers in it.  The sage and kielbasa was a toss-up.  The bratwurst looked differently so it was easier.  As the day wore on some suggested marking the sausages to keep track.

I jumped on it and started marking the kielbasa with a slash down the length and the sage a slash across.  But as they cooked they split and slashes look like lines and lines looked like slashes.  Tasting the sausage to tell the difference was alright when it was a free sample.  But it was tought when people ordered one or another type of sausage.  Now they were paying for the sausage and roll.  To their credit most people settled for what they got.  Others said "Don't worry about it.  It is all is good. Give me what's ready."  Nick has a very hardcore group of followers, people that really "get" local, organically-raised, grass-fed beef, chicken and turkeys.

Along with Nick's meat we were selling our certified organic fall vegetables: kale, red ancho peppers and green peppers,our  honey and jam and promoting the cooking classes.  Saturday was a long cold day, and even though I was next to the fire and under cover I was freezing.  By the end of the day I was whining and wanted nothing but a hot bath.  I felt bad for Nick, Dave and Harvey as they were out in the worst of it and away from any heat.

Then there was feeding the help.  I really have to apologize to Harvey.  He only wanted a well done burger and I can really cook a burger well done, he just didn't get any of them.  Harvey was driving the tractor for the hay-rides.  One of the problems with cooking with wood is I use the flame not the coals.  So you have to get used to moving meat close to and then away from the heat.  Poor Harvey.  Out of all the burgers he got during the two days one might have been medium well done.  His preference was well.  I tried I really did.  I'll make it up to him next year though.

To all the hardy souls that came out thank you.

Buy Local - From a farmer not a chain hard selling the fact.

THINGS I'VE RUN OVER BY ACCIDENT

So we moved onto an old farm.  Six generation of families have lived here before us.  Six generations of buying tools and loosing them to the outdoors.  Working on a tractor you get done and the crow bar was left on the side.  As you read on I know I am not going to look good.  But in the interest of true life I've decided to be fourth coming about some of the more boneheaded things I've done while mowing and tilling.  

I have no one to blame but myself, yet I don't.  You know the part about making mistakes and not repeating them.  All that goes out the window when I talk about sitting on the mower or the tractor.

At least with tilling I have a very good excuse. I mean the stuff is underground, at least 99.9 precent has been anyway.  When I hit something with the tiller I stop, dig it up and place it in my "stuff I've tilled" pile.  It is just like my "stuff I've mowed" pile but it's a much smaller pile defying all logic. Although the area I till is greater than the area I mow I somehow seem to do more damage with the five foot mower deck than the six foot tiller.  Actually, I do more damage to the five foot mower deck.

Yet of all the things I've run over I do not think I'm actually all that responsible, completely. really.  I mean, I am driving the mower each time and I can honestly say I have never run over anything on purpose.  I mean who purposely hits an iron cap to the clean-out pipe?  And then its plastic replacement.

The land around our house has a lot of stone out-croppings.  I've taken a sledge hammer to the ones that where deceptively low or I guess their deceptively high.  You only have to hit a rock once to remember where it was.  But, then again there was three acres of lawn. 

I've estimated that I've spent eight hours on my back untwisting things stuck in the mower blades.  Things that other people have left on the ground or have not put away, well mostly others.   I've spent six hours replacing blades and five hours replacing belts.  The mower itself has only 233 total hours of run time.  I know the numbers are not in my favor but what can I say.  I try not to cut the lawn but sometimes we can't find the barn and I don't have a choice.

So I begrudgingly get on the mower and start mowing around the gardens, orchards, water tanks, trellises and out-buildings.  While this is happening I'm looking up front to see if there is anything in the way.  Grant it I'm looking for chickens, rabbits, frogs, cats, stones, boulders, wood or any of the myriad of other things in the grass.  I can be candid and say I’ve never run over a chicken, baby rabbit or any living creater.  So in the interest of full discloser below is a list of things that I've found with the lawn mower;

metal wire 3/8th inch 59 ft long with tensioner;

Three strand electric fence 60 ft long

6 ft wide black landscape fabric 10 ft; long 

Chicken wire - 6 feet by 10 feet I was quick on stopping the PTO that time.

1 light post; 1 garden hose 25 ft long

Various wood planks, pallet edges and boulders

Steel drain pipe cap; plastic drain pipe cap (different years though)

Black walnuts, ok, they are on purpose how else can you get the meat out of them?

Does top soil count?

Tilling the ground has its own perils but I can't take credit for any of it with the exception of the chicken wire.  When we put our first garden in I encased it in chicken wire.  I buried about a foot and had five feet sticking out of the ground.  It works great for keeping the critters out and protecting the vegetables.  We had the fence up for three years.  Each end was open so I could get the tiller in and closed once we were done.  

One fall day I was preparing the bed for its winter cover and got too close to the side of the fence.  Before I knew it the tiller got a piece of the fence and the fence starting coming at me like a rocket.  Before I could kill the PTO, the tiller tines had wrapped about fifty feet of the fence around themselves.  As it was wrapping around the tines the fence was compacting.  Six feet by five feet compressed into about three inches wide.  Getting that out took about five hours but knock on wood it was the first and only time.

So, I make mistakes but I really try not to run over things, especially those that wrap around the blades and spindles.  Getting them out is not easy and serves to be the greatest motivator when avoiding trouble.  My advice to all, keep your lawns short.

 Buy Local - From a farmer not a chain hard selling the fact.

The farm house we live in was built in 1837 by David and Richard Specht.  David was the original owner.  He bought the land from Charles Caroll a signer of the Declartion of Independance.  They built the house with clay bricks they made by hand from materials dug on the property.

The floor joists are solid trees with the bark still attached.  On the second floor one room has the ceiling exposed to the roof.  When you look up you see they used wooden dowls to secure the wood in place for the attic floor joists.  The wood itself has hand honed marks on it where you can see they smoothed it out. 

Each room has its own fireplace which are very shallow.  We were told that's how coal fireplaces were designed. The rooms themselves have ten foot ceilings.  The walls are covered in horse hair plaster, no lattice work just plaster slapped up against the brick interieror of the house.   The house exterior itself is made three bricks deep and has widows sills that are almost a foot and a half deep. 

My wife started researching the history behind the house and found that among other things that the brothers Specht had a run in with Union soldiers.  It seems when the Union was getting ready to attack the Confederate Army at Point of Rocks, Maryland they tour down fences in case they needed to retreat.  Well the Specht brothers didn't like having their fences down and their cows running free so they built them up.

As it turned out the Union did have to beat a retreat from Point of Rocks and when they came upon the Specht property they  did not like that the fences were restored.  In his book The History of Carrollton Manor, 1928, William Jarboe Grove surmizes that had the Union had any ammunition left the brothers would not have lived to tell about it.

Another little bit of written history was the demise of David Specht himself.  It was written that he went out during a bad storm to check on the house when a brick fell and hit him in the head.  Since Mr. Specht there have only been six owners of the farm house.

So when it came time to renovate the house we were advised that the cheapest and quickest way to accomplish what we wanted to do was to tear the house down and build it from scratch.  Knowing what we knew about the house we just could not bring ourselves to make that decision.  It did cost more and it did take longer to fix.  But, you can't replace history, you can't replace the kind of hand craftsmanship that was put into this house and you'll never replace the hopes and dreams that first built this house.

We are mere stewards, keeping the place up so that hopefully generations from now, someone else will read the history and decide that the house is to precious to tear down and build from scratch and will want to preserve it for as yet unknown generations.

Buy local - from a farmer not from a chain advertising "Local"

We were talking about getting goats, milk goats specifically.  At least my wife was.  I can only see the negative with goats so it was pretty much a one sided conversation.  I'm sure she's right; she was right about the farm, the chickens, the fruits, the eggs, the marriage....

I don't want to offend anyone, I know goat people and I respect people that have goats.  But I've heard goat people talk about goats and it usually ends with a story about one of the goats getting out and eating everything in sight.  Or goats getting out, roaming and eating the neighbor's expensive plants out of their yard.  Or goats getting out and you can't find them and when you do, you can't get them in the truck.  Or goats getting out and eating the neighbor's Harley Davidson.   Let's just say my issue is goats getting out. 

I know a lot of people with goats, they are great people but they tell me stories and inevetably one will be about their goat getting out.  I've been to seminars and presentations where other farmers are talking about how great goats are, but someone will have a story about the time their goat got out    So I asked the question, how do you keep goats in?  Strong fences I’m told.  Strong fences! 

Problem is I've asked the person that has told me the story of their goat getting out.  So, the answer is a strong fence, that’s the recommendation I’ve gotten from the extension office, from farmers and from goat herding friends.  Does anyone see a problem here?  The same people that have told me about goats getting out are the ones recommending strong fences.  Hummmm.  Was the escape before or after they installed strong fences?

I have found that there is a special electric fence for goats, sheep and chickens.  I read the website It is designed specifically for goats and sheep. The advertisement reads "Keeps your goats and sheep in and predators out."  Yeah, but I don't believe it. 

Once you buy the fence and then get the goat you’re done.  The gig is up, there is no turning back.  The goat will get out, they always do.  I'll end up having to give my neighbor free vegetables for a season.  Or worse while trying to corral the goat it kicks me in an area not meant to be kicked.  To me, goats are Mother Nature’s way of teaching us that ruminants are suppose to roam. 

Then I start to think of the benefits: they can clear brush and eat grass.  I learned of a type of pygmy goat that I found to be quite comical.  There is a goat called a Fainting Goat, and as its name implies when this thing gets scared it faints.  I saw a video of it, and all most spit my milk out from laughing.  So I waited for the right time and told my wife if she gets a milk goat then I wanted to get a fainting goat. "What's a fainting goat?" she asks.  "A pygmy goat," I respond. 

I get a quizzical look but I avoid her eyes and quickly change the subject.  I ask what kind of food would we need to feed the goat.  She starts to rattle off the list of things she has learned that a goat will eat and by the end of the list I'm  thinking she missed our next door neighbor's roses and the Harley. I know she is holding back.

I can tell she is pleased that I've started to ask questions about the goats.  "Ya know," I say "we'll have to think about this whole goat thing".

BUY LOCAL- from a farmer, not a chain advertising "LOCAL"

We have been at this farmer's market for about six weeks.  There is a mix of vegetable growers and other stands that make up the total market.  Foot traffic is good, not great but good.  There is a grower a couple of stalls down that is young and sells mainly corn, tomatoes and melons.  I don't pay much attention to the other vendors because I read my insect book or am taking care of customers.

The day was beautiful, sunshine, light breeze, low humidity and we were seeing more and more repeat customers.  One told us that the jam she purchased last week was the best she had ever tasted.  At the same time another repeat customer was buying two more jars of jam based on his last purchase.  We said thank you and I slowly patted my wife on her back.  It was her idea. labor and her mom's recipe.  It was turning out to be a good day. 

We were selling organic eggs, our carrots had started to come in, the string beans bounced back and our raspberry plants started producing.  So our offerings were diversified and plentiful.  At one point in time I spotted a customer coming back to us with a box of our eggs.  My stomach dropped because the look on her face was not pleasant.  I was dealing with a customer so I got my wife’s attention and motioned for her to check out and see what the customer wanted.  She had gone home, went to put the eggs away and realized she had only received nine.  Of all the mistakes we make and have made, this one was the most embarrassing.  Once I realized what had happened I excused myself from the other customer and immediately started asking her what she liked that we had.  At the same time my wife was getting her more eggs.  I asked about a couple vegetables and got to the potatoes.  She said she didn't have potatoes so I gave her a pound of the German Butter Ball and apologized profusely.  She left, hopefully satisfied and maybe to return.

Then at closing the young farmer from a couple stalls down came up to look at what we had.  He asked about the German Queen tomatoes, we were selling.  These things are huge weighing between 1.25-1.75 lbs each.  They are by far the biggest we've grown.  The skin is thin, seed pod small and flesh is sweet.  As I'm telling him this I'm looking into his eyes and seeing sadness.  We all look tired and worn down, that is part of the job.  It is physically and mentally challenging.  Your mind is always ready to give up before your body is but you know this and go on to the next chore.

I use the term heart-wrenching a lot when describing things on the farm because those words invoke a visceral reaction.  We all know what heart break is in all its forms.  But to use those words makes one understand the physical and emotional toll taking place within the person.  What I was seeing and hearing from this young man was heart-wrenching.

He is at his cross roads.  He works full time on a dairy farm; he grows five acres of vegetables in his spare time.  He is having trouble making ends meet.  He doesn't know if he'll be able to pay off all his bills by the end of the growing season.  As he was standing there telling me his young wife came up and put her arm around him.  I asked, "How’d it go today?" He started to grouse but his wife pulled his arm and he shifted some and kicked the dirt and said "not that bad".  A customer came up to their stand and his wife went to take care of them.

I had stopped tearing down and was just talking to him.  I could tell he was in despair and was looking for some sort of guidance or a kind word or words of encouragement.  He told me that other people he talked to told him to stay in it that things would change.  I didn't tell him they were right or wrong.  I just said that this is an incredibly hard thing to do and not many people really understand the sacrifice and toll it takes on us.  That he wasn't alone in his doubt and his struggles.  The last time I stopped breaking down and talked to someone my wife got livid, at least at that time we had help.  This time it was just her and I was torn.  Should I cut him off and help her or should I do what many have done for me in the past and that was to lend a sympathetic ear and maybe some advice and encouragement.

She could hear the conversation and knew the plight of the young vegetable farmer.  I empathized with him and told him about the MD Small Farm Co-op.  I told him by joining he would meet people like us who pull our resources and are able to buy in bulk thus cutting down on overall costs.  I gave him my name and number and told him if he had any questions to call.  This all seemed woefully inadequate but it was the best I could do.  For my wife's part she continued breaking down and when he left I helped finish up.  She didn't say a word.  We packed up and headed home.  What should have been a pleasant trip after a good day selling was just silent.  It seemed both of us were thinking about the young man and his wife.  

It was a good day for us but when you see the pain, self-doubt and struggle that someone like you is going through you can't help but question why is this so hard and why doesn't everyone else know?

PLEASE-buy local, find a farmer around you, go visit them, try what they have for sale.  If you don't like what you got tell them that and tell them why. Vegetable farmers live on feedback.   If there is something you'd like them to grow, tell them.  It can only help with their future plans.  The more sustainable farmers we keep in business the healthier the environment and all of us will be in the long run.

We have a hen that has taken to, let me see, how to say this so I keep a "G" rating.  We have a hen that has taken to being the rooster.  I kid you not.  She has taken on the roll of the fertilizer or pretend fertilizer.  I've said before we've only been raisng hens for three years going on four.  So I might think I've seen it all, but apperantly that's not true.   My wife read a book that said hens can change gender but we never took it seriously.

We thought it was one of those things, except we have this chicken that doesn't really fight the other hens as much as she gets on their backs.  A rooster when he is in procreation mode will grab a hen by the back of her neck holding her down so he can do what a rooster does.  My wife said she thought she saw this behavior in one of our hens, but me being me, I wouldn't believe it until I saw the event for myself.

We were all eating lunch one day sitting outside in the shade and enjoying a slight breeze.  I was facing the pen of the second generation hens.  Their numbers have dwindled due to a neighbor's errent dog, but the ones that survived have rebounded and they are pretty good layers.  It was a Saturday and we had picked corn for taste testing.  We feed our help most times and its always a good time when breaking bread with them.  No matter what I cook they always seem to like it.  Of course when you work on an organic vegetable farm you tend to work up a big appetite.  Male or female they can all put food away.  So I cooked the corn for everyone and we were sitting there enjoying the sweet taste and the respite.  

If the hens start fighting or going crazy I usually yell at them which startles them and is enought to return the flock to some sort of harmony.  I heard a commotion and looked up to see a hen on top of another hen biting and holding her down while seemingly girating like the rooster does.  I looked at my wife; she gave me a look and just shrugged.  I yelled, then got up to get closer and yelled again.  That broke the hovering hen's concentration and her captive scurried away.  So, once again I think I've seen it all.

We kid ourselves by thinking we've got a handle on things.  Then we discover that the learning curve just seems to keep bending upward. But, these are things that nature brings.

Buy Local - from a farmer, not from a chain that advertises "Local" 

For the first three years of selling we were at a farmers market that was trying to rebound.  It was located in a stayed community of old houses and income levels.  We didn't learn this until later but it didn't matter.  I liked being part of nostalgia by trying to bring back the old farmers market.

We were learning how to grow organic on a large scale and also learning about farmers markets.  Each market has its own personality, procedures and clientel.  Our enthusiasm and drive were not lacking, but week after week foot traffic was minimal and we often wondered if we were in the right place.  It certainly was not making copious amounts of money.  Slowly we started to build up a clientel and we were bringing in fruits and vegetables that were coming into season.

For six years my wife and I were the only ones doing the work.  As with most small farmers we too had full-time jobs.  We both gave up our weekends and evenings.  In the off season we would plow through insect, plant identification, pasture management and animal husbandry books.  We attended lectures and classes on small farming and other specialties.  We belong to the Maryland Small Farm Co-op, the Pastured Poultry Association, CASA-Future Harvest and the Maryland Organic Food and Farmers Association.

Each of these groups have specific functions but all are setup to gather, trade and disseminate information with most of the emphasis on providing education to there members.   These groups are great for getting started and networking.  It doesn't matter who you are or what you know, or if you've been farming for years there is value to joining and participating in the events. 

It is in these groups were you find kindred spirits, market stories, working knowledge and moral support.  The first three years selling was hard for us, we were putting in maximum effort but were getting little if any return on our investment and time. 

We kept hearing one phrase over and over again at the market.  There was a point where we could identify the person that was going to say it.  We heard the phrase in English, Spanish and German. We couldn't tell what they were saying but the body language of some of the Asian customers spoke loud enough.

It was always the same thing, different languages but the same facial expressions, "Is this all there is?".  We tried not to take it personally but weekend after weekend it did wear on us.  I would often engage the people and ask sincerely what they would like to see.  Mostly the answer was more vendors.  We would pass this information on to the market manager.

What struck me as odd was we had plenty of a variety of fruits and vegetables, we were transitional organic and our prices were a dollar.  We joked that we were the other dollar store.  Cucumbers 4 for a dollar, tomatoes dollar a pound, onions same thing, berries they sold at a premium.  Everything else went for a buck.  Because there wasn't a big vendor presence most people just turned and left.  There were days when we ended up giving more food to our local soup kitchen then what we sold.  Giving to the soup kitchen had its own intrinsic reward and helped us gain perspective with the days events.

It was hard but we made the best of it and made some really good friends that we still have to this day.  The market provided us with a way to sell our vegetables and have fun.  Besides, without the market how would we learn?

Buy Local - from a farmer not a chain advertising "Local"

We are learning, we have learned and we will continue to learn.  Our knowledge comes from reading, talking to others, working and observing.  Like on Saturday we observed that Broody was back sitting in her nesting box.  Then we observed on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday the same thing.

This is a natural occurance for chickens sometimes they go broody.  We've only been raising hens for three years so we don't have a lot of experience.  However, we have faced broodiness before so we sorta know what we are doing.  In all the books that we've read I don't remember if they talked about a broody hen going broody twice in the same year.

I did observe something I hadn't noticed before.  When a chicken is broody the last thing you want to do is let her sit on an egg.  Everything that we've read says to take eggs from her.  You don't want to encourage the behavior so taking the eggs gives her nothing to hatch.

Chickens will lay one egg every 25 hours, give or take, on Sunday we took the egg from under her.  Monday when we checked she was in the same nesting box but there were two eggs.  I took them, my glimer of hope was the two eggs in the box.  She had laid one (broody chickens do not) and she was out of the box long enough for another chicken to lay her egg.

Getting a broody chicken out of our nesting box is pretty hard due to the design of the nest and access to it.  So, we put off getting her out until we were sure she really was broody.  Tuesday when we checked she had three eggs under her and we took them.  She was still in the same box though.  Wednesday morning I looked in the box for eggs and saw two under Broody and one in the middle box.  Broody was still nesting in the third box farthest from the opening.  I thought once again she had laid, gotten out of the box and another hen laid her own egg.  I went about the day's chores and kept the chicken pen within site.  The day progressed with no sight of Broody.  By late afternoon I had decided to check the nesting boxes again.

I looked in and Broody was still in the third nest facing the back.  Yet, she had another two eggs under her and it dawned on me.  She wasn't laying and she wasn't getting out of the nest.  The other chickens must know she is broody.  They are nesting in her box and laying their eggs for her to hatch.  Four eggs on Wednesday and three the day before that.  She hadn't left the nest at all and she wasn't laying.   There is no way a chicken can move an egg in our nesting boxes.  The floor is on a decline from front to back, with a back wall high enough to let the egg roll underneath and in a holding area.  These were all under her front wings.

We decided that it was time to get her out of the nesting box and into the barn.  This is not a stress free process for the bird or us.  I eventualy got her out and headed for the barn.  While we were walking I took the liberty to feel her abdomen and lower fluff by the vent.  No hard object or abnormal feeling of the large intenstines.  She was just broody again.  Broody is in he barn digging holes for nests and sitting on non-existant eggs.  She's got plenty of fresh water and mash to eat.  So far she's still in the barn, day seven and counting.  We'll let you know how it goes.

Buy Local - From a farmer not a chain that advertises "local"

When we first started to talk to our family and friends about buying a farm the reactions were mixed but predominately quizzical.  Why?  As if something was wrong with us.  How come?  As if there was some force pushing us into something we weren't ready for.  Are you sure? As if we hadn't spent enough time debating and talking about the move.  Then there was the big one. What are you going to do with a farm?  As if the question didn't already have the answer in it, FARM.

We are city folks, my family is third generation urbanites.  Our friends were of the same ilk.  So it wasn't too surprising that we were met with their concerns, doubts and skepticisms.  I guess all of them thought that gardening was fine but large scale gardening was border line psychotic.  I know they liked our tomatoes, peppers and herbs but we wanted to try other things, lots of other things.

Besides, I never told anyone what my childhood dreams were.  To do that would jeopardize the possibility of achieving them.  So no one knew that I wanted land, horses, a big garden and a pool and they probably thought that it was something that we just started talking about.  But when word got around that we had placed a contract on a farm everyone weighed in with thoughtful words of caution, limited encouragement and counseling referrals.

When you come from the city, gardening on a large scale is for people established in the farming community.  In the city you're supposed to grow a couple vegetables as a hobby, you certainly don't make a living at it and you'll live in relative obscurity if you try.  They all made perfect sense- farms have been on the decline ever since we've been alive.  Farm-Aide started when we were teens, and the scenes depicted of families losing everything, having to stand by at auctions and watch their possessions sold off was heart-breaking.  It was real and it was tragic.  People don't choose to be farmers; they are born into it, at least that was the prevailing feeling we got.  You don't invest money and time in a declining industry.  Yet we were on the precipice of doing just that.

So while all the concern was being directed at us we were slowly moving towards purchasing the farm house and the property.  The house was built in 1837 on land once owned by a historic figure.  As part of the purchase we had the house inspected by a family friend.

Before he was done he took both of us aside and flat out said you don't want this house.  It would cost us more to fix it up than the structure was worth.  We'd be better off tearing it down and building from scratch.  When he was done he had over eighteen pages of notes and things wrong with the house, barn and milking shed.

We had twenty four hours to decide to back out or continue forward.  My wife and I are very deliberate logical people, fiscally and environmentally conservative and socially liberal.  We are not the fix-it-up types.  There were so many factors telling us not to buy and move on that it seemed like a no brainer to anyone looking at all the facts.

There was just something about the place, I think had we'd known we would pull 68 black snakes out of the house maybe we would have went in the opposite direction.  As it turned out we didn't and there has been something akin to a spiritual journey taking place ever since.  We are religious people, we believe in a higher calling and that we are on this earth to help make a difference no matter how insignificant it may be.

The first six months in the house were arduous and filled with snake encounters.  My wife called it luxury camping.  We added living in the house as part of our prayer routine.  During that time we had what I call our fetal position moments: we cried, we had great doubts and we had buyers' remorse.  But we kept praying not really asking for anything but the strength to continue.  One day a cat showed up at our door, I scared it away but we'd see it again and again.  We found that it was living in our barn which was fine with me but my wife wanted to bring it inside.  I resisted and gave a cogent argument as to why not.  "It's feral," I said, it turned out not to be and was already spayed.  After a two foot snow fall the barn cat was introduced to her new home.  She was aptly named BC and she was the first cat to adopt us.

The snow thawed and with spring came snakes.  Except these snakes were showing up dead.  We were finding them all over the place.  It didn't take long for us to realize that BC was the one killing the snakes.  She was the answer to our prayers.  BC could care less for mice. I saw her once watch a mouse eating out of her food bowl.  She was sitting by the woodstove and just watched as the mouse ate away.    She didn't flinch, but if it was a snake that was a different story.  We could tell when she had spotted one as she never moved but waited for her chance at the slithery creature. 

That was the start of the turn-around for us.  We are now part of something bigger than what we had expected.  There was a time when it was just meat making people sick and being recalled.  Recently, more stories of vegetables like spinach, lettuce, tomatoes, peppers and even peanut butter have been contaminated.  We are part of a greater community of people that are providing safe, fresh and tasty food to our neighbors and friends.  As bad as the past has been moving here,doing what we have been doing seems right.

Before their SuperBowl appearance Marv Levy the coach of the Buffalo Bills, said to his team "At this moment in time, where else would you rather be, than right here, right now"? 

Did you know that you are not suppose to shuck corn at a farmers market?  It's one of those unwritten rules.  As soon as an ear is even partially opened, it begins to go to starch.  As a child I remember the Arraber coming around and he would pick the corn for you.  Depending upon where you were on his route you either got thirteen good ears of corn or a mix.  

That's another thing - whatever happened to a baker's dozen?  People seem actually surprised when we give them another ear of corn or put 13 into the bag.  That use to be standard operating procedure.  When the industrial food complex came into the picture you bought the corn pre-packaged or by the ear.  Please don't get me wrong.  We are a capitalistic society which is built around the principle of making money.  I think it's a wonderful idea but my frustration comes in when I see people cutting corners, ignoring safety, using techniques and tactics that are harmful under the guise of the bottom line.  Besides I'm also jealous that I don't make tons of money or even pounds for that matter. 

I know that when twelve people buy a dozen we lose a dozen. But we also sell by the ear and I learned long ago the smaller the quantity for sale the greater revenue.  Meaning, if 72 people each baught two ears of corn revenue would be greater because the per ear cost is higher.  So we look at it as a wash.  The goodwill it generates for our customers and then back to us surpases the pain of losing a dozen.  In the past six years we've lost more than 90 percent of each year's corn crop due to multiple factors.  So we're kind of use to losing corn.

Seven years ago we were selling at a farmers market, and we had corn that was raised organically but was not from organic seed.  It wasn't being sold as organic but it was local and it was picked hours before.  I was working with a customer when I saw an elderly lady go over to the corn and start to shuck the ears.    I looked right and saw my wife looking at her.  I kept talking to and taking care of my customer, but I noticed my wife's body language and non-verbal cues change.  She was getting agitated.

A minute goes by, I'm trying to finish with my customer but he has questions about cooking. Every so often I take a right peripheral view to see how my wife is doing.  At that time, I don't know why, I can't put my finger on it but my wife's reactions are catching my attention.  I follow her gaze and see the woman is still shucking her way through the corn. 

My customer asked about making a zuchinni recipe, we have adapted from "Chef's Illustrated," and I'm telling him about it and describing the nuances.  I feel my wife walking behind me towards the woman shucking corn.

My wife is one of the most intelligent, kindest, caring, level-headed people I've ever met.  She is the conotation of grace under fire and who you'd want to be with when trouble strikes.  But don't shuck the corn at a famer's market in front of her. 

Buy Local- from a farmer not from a chain that advertises "local"

p.s.  no one was hurt in the actual events or the retelling of events.

Part 3 of 3