Twenty some years ago, when we farmers were young and foolish, our farm fantasies mainly revolved around finding a farm of our own. We had apprenticed for five years on several vegetable farms in the Northeast, and we had all kinds of opinions on how we would go about things on our own farm.

Our opinions were quickly humbled, pretty much the moment we stepped onto our new place. Not quite as easy as it looks, this vegetable farming.

Now, as older, humbler, if not less foolish farmers, we find that our farm fantasies are mainly about other people’s farms.

Wouldn’t it be fun, we say, to join someone else’s CSA garden? Imagine being a CSA member, and going once a week to pick up your freshly harvested and washed produce, and not having done a lick of work?

Oh hee, hee, hee. This kind of thinking helps us get through one of our most intense times of year, during the end of May and early June. Not only do we need to transplant every crop that is not yet in the ground, from winter squash to leeks to tomatillos, but the haying weather begins. Though we are not ready yet to hay, we worry steadily about not haying. Plus the weeds are coming on strong, and our lofty goal of having not a single weed in the garden by June 1st seems rather laughable.

But the biggest effort is the start of CSA vegetable distribution. First there are the hours organizing pick-up schedules, and clearing out the vegetable distribution shed from a winter’s worth of projects.

Then there is the actual harvest: suddenly it is as if two whole days have disappeared from our week. Instead of transplanting and weeding and worrying about not haying, we are swallowed up in harvesting for our CSA members, from 4:45 a.m. to 2 p.m., followed by warmly welcoming said members, from 2 p.m. to 7 p.m., two days a week.

Oh, those 14 hour days: fourteen hours of transplants languishing in their pots, wanting to be in the ground, and of weeds growing into trees, perfectly happy to stay in the ground, and of hay going to seed. All that work we’re not getting done!

But then there’s the bright side: oh, yes, the first harvests! Oh, right, this is what all this work is for: the delicious produce! Oh, the lettuce, oh, the bok choy, the salad turnips and salad greens, the beets and basil and kohlrabi! The kale! The chard! The peas! The strawberries!

Wow, we say, we are lucky to have all these delicious strawberries coming so early out of the greenhouse. And wow, we say, the spinach! So very much spinach! In fact, it has been taking three farmers three hours (5 a.m. to 8 a.m., to be precise) to harvest, process, and wash all that spinach, which is a perfect time to indulge in farm fantasies.

It must sound pretty good, at least, since when our CSA members come they say wow, too. The spinach! The strawberries! The everything else!

So much work! they say.

Then, “I feel kind of guilty!” one even says.

“No, no,” says another member, “The farmers don’t feel guilty about you being a urologist, or me being a teacher.”

“No, I sure don’t,” this farmer answers. I am delighted not to be a urologist; in fact, I am so delighted not to be a urologist that being a CSA farmer on my own farm seems like quite a fine thing. What could be nicer than growing good produce for all the good urologists and teachers of the world?

Originally published in the Monadnock Shopper News, June 29th - July 5th, 2022

June is a welcome month – oh summer! and also a welcoming month, on a CSA farm.

In June, we farmers welcome back returning CSA members, and we also introduce new members to the garden, the fields, the workhorses, the greenhouses. We slip in a little warning about our scratchy bitey kitty, on our way to the last stop on the farm tour: the distribution shed.

The shed is where it all comes together, from soil to compost to seed to food: the fresh from the spring garden vegetables are ready! Returning members, and many new ones, look eagerly for favorite spring treats, knowing that the season is relatively short for many of the crisp, crunchy spring offerings.

There are always a few new folks, however, who are a little more hesitant.

First up in the shed are the fresh herbs: basil, oregano, thyme, lemon balm, garlic greens.

“Wow, they smell great,” says the new member. “but I don’t really know how to use fresh herbs.”

“Just like dried herbs,” we answer. “Just use three times as much in your recipe as dried. You’ll be amazed at what a difference fresh herbs make.”

“Well . . . I’ll take a little.” The member takes a smidgen of each kind of herb. Then she/he thinks better of it, and puts half of each smidgen back in the basket.

“There’s plenty more,” we encourage.

“Oh, that’s all right. Whoa! what’s that thing? It looks like a space ship! Are you supposed to eat it?”

“Oh, yes,” we answer, holding up a purple spiky fist-sized vegetable. “This is kohlrabi! It’s in the broccoli family. You can eat it raw with dip or in a salad, or you can cook it. But first you have to peel off the purple skin. You eat the pale green part inside.”

“Okayyyy . . .” the member places two kohlrabi gingerly in his/her bag. “Now what’s this? A radish?”

“That’s a spring turnip.”

The member wrinkles her/his nose. “I don’t like turnips. My grandmother always tried to get me to eat turnips. I do not like turnips.”

“This is not you r grandparents’ turnip!” we reassure. “This is a spring turnip, mild, crisp, tasty. You don’t even have to peel it; and you can eat it raw or cooked. You could even eat it out of hand, like an apple.”

One farmer gleefully eats a turnip, to demonstrate the spring turnip’s non-poisonous, non-icky, decidedly delicious nature. The other farmer points and nods encouragingly at the happy turnip-eating farmer.

“Okayyyy . . .” The bunch of turnips goes slowly into the bag, next to the space craft. “Now what’s this?”

“That’s pac choi, or bok choy, it’s also called. You might know it from Asian food? You can stir-fry it, or you can slice it up for your salad. It’s crisp, and tender, both.”

“Okayyy . . . I guess I could try it.” The member peers in his/her bag, as if the addition of yet another strange item might cause a sudden blast-off of the space ship kohlrabi. Then she/he turns to the next tray. “What about this? Is this some kind of lettuce? Or what?”

“Very close. It’s great in a salad: a mix of salad greens, mustard greens, arugula, tatsoi, tiny kale. It adds a little spice to your salad. Here, try a leaf!”

The member takes a tiny bite of a tiny leaf. “Whoaa,” he/she says, “That’s really spicy, really spicy.”

“Good, isn’t it? It mixes in beautifully with the lettuce.”

The new member’s eyes light up, with excitement or relief, we’re not sure which, when she/he sees the next tray of produce: heads of lettuce.

Lettuce. Now that is a proper vegetable.

And right next to the lettuce is spinach. The member is positively beaming. Lettuce! And spinach!

“This looks really good,” he/she says. “All this lettuce and spinach. And I can just chop up all this other stuff and stick it in my salad?”

“Yes! But don’t forget to peel the kohlrabi.”

“The kohlrabi . . . which one is that again?”

“The purple space ship.” The space ship that will take to you to new heights of local sustainable gastronomic delight! we want to add.

But we don’t want to scare our nice new member too much.

Originally published in the Monadnock Shopper News, Jun 12– Jun 18, 2013

Farm Talk

Kim Peavey