This Week’s Vegetable List

We hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving, and a nice relaxing weekend. We sure did. So relaxing, in fact, that I didn’t get a little farm story written. We’ll be at the farm stand this Wednesday like always, however, and here’s what we’ll have for you:

“Cheddar” orange cauliflower; four varieties of cabbage: tender & sweet Farao, purple cabbage, Napa cabbage and the first of the green storage cabbage; butterhead lettuce; red leaf and green leaf lettuces; lettuce mix; spinach; Provencal lettuce/chicory salad mix; arugula; the first of the sweet white Hakurei turnips w/greens; bunches of chard; bunches of Asian greens; bunches of Brussels greens; two varieties of kale – dinosaur kale and curly kale; pink and purple radishes; heads of escarole; and bags of broccoli side shoots (use the stems, leaves and all!).

Thanks!
Jo Dwyer
Angel Valley Organic Farm
Farm stands:
In Jonestown on FM1431 at the blinking yellow light, Saturdays beginning at 10 a.m.;
In NW Austin on Jollyville Road between Oak Knoll and Duval (at the Asian American Cultural Center), Wednesdays beginning at 10 a.m.

 

The First Autumn Freeze

It happened so much later in the season this year, probably because of the October rains. When a northerly front blasts through here with clouds and rain accompanying it, we don’t get quite so cold. A dry front, however, is usually deadly. Without moisture to warm the ground a little, or cloud cover to serve as an insulator, the temperature can sink like a stone.

We knew the cold front heading our way early last week was going to be a dry one. And because we’re in this valley – a “cold pocket” in the extreme – we’ve learned from experience what must be done. First, PVC hoops needed to be placed along the rows that would ultimately be draped with floating row covers.

Once the hoops were in place, wads of spun polyester were rolled out (most of them used for the second, third or eleventh time – showing their ages by how dirty they were, how riddled with holes, or both).

Only the row covers already pinned to the ground could handle that afternoon’s brisk north wind. The remainder of the covers would have to wait until early evening to be draped over the other crops, after the breeze died down. Davy, Dana and Mary graciously worked a little late helping to get everything ready…

…while Farmer John supervised.

Okay, to be fair, he did more than stand and watch. He also pointed.

Wait. Wait. Before John reads this, I have to come clean. After dark that evening, while I sipped a glass of wine and made a delicious, wholesome soup consisting of fresh greens (chard, in this case, but any of the varieties would do), potatoes and great northern (to coincide with the direction of the wind) beans, Farmer John trudged through the farm putting the row covers in place, his head lamp illuminating the way.

Prior to beginning that onerous chore, he and I first made some Important Executive Decisions. Although every/one had hooped up darn near every/thing, John and I snapped out of emergency mode and recognized that it wasn’t necessary to cover it all. Had we anticipated a low temperature of 17 degrees, it would have been a different story – but we were looking at probably more like the upper 20’s.

We started ticking off which crops were most needy: Peppers and eggplant, for sure. Lettuces and the most delicate leafy greens would benefit from row covers simply to avoid uglification by tip burn, while the rest – brussels greens, kale, cabbages and the like – were on their own.

I should know better than assume I’ll sleep well the night of the first freeze. Especially knowing some crops – important crops – hadn’t been covered. The logical side of my brain assured me cabbages can handle the cold. Then, in the middle of the night, the irrational side of my brain (the side that always shows itself in the middle of the night) whispered that the temperatures might be dropping into the teens at that very instant, damaging the rows of tender Farao cabbages we so hoped to harvest in abundance for the Thanksgiving markets.

The logical side reminded me that I could have staved off the irrational side’s intrusion into my dreams, had I allowed myself to dip into the anti-anxiety pills stashed away in the bathroom. The prescription bottle is a leftover from my surgery almost two years ago, but I’ll bet the stuff still works. By that time of night, though, it was too late to go rummaging through cabinets.

As it turned out, our low was 28 degrees, not 17. The Farao cabbage came through it unscathed. So did the immature savoy cabbage, also uncovered. The irrational side of my brain obviously forgot to murmur nocturnal warnings about these flawless beauties. That would have certainly – and needlessly – kept me awake until dawn.

I’m thinking when the next freeze hits, to silence that pesky irrational side and guarantee a good night’s sleep, I’m taking one of those pills.

***Here’s what we’ll be bringing to the stand this Wednesday:

LOTS of beautiful lettuces for your Thanksgiving salads – butterhead, red leaf, green leaf and romaine; tender & sweet Farao cabbages; Napa cabbages; the first Savoy cabbages; “Cheddar” orange cauliflower (we have our fingers crossed for a lot…we’ll have to wait and see how much is ready for harvest); lettuce mix; spinach; Provencal lettuce/chicory salad mix; arugula; bunches of chard; bunches of Asian greens; bunches of Brussels greens; broccoli greens; two varieties of kale – dinosaur kale and curly kale; collards; pink and purple radishes; lovely heads of escarole; bell peppers; eggplant; and some odds and ends.

Thanks!
Jo Dwyer
Angel Valley Organic Farm
Farm stands:
In Jonestown on FM1431 at the blinking yellow light, Saturdays beginning at 10 a.m.;
In NW Austin on Jollyville Road between Oak Knoll and Duval (at the Asian American Cultural Center), Wednesdays beginning at 10 a.m.

 

And the Winner is…

The Huffington Post is running a contest to find the hottest organic farmer in the country. And by hot, they mean cute. Sexy. According to HuffPost Green, organic farmers are “heroes and rock stars,” adding that “there’s nothing more attractive than someone who likes to get their hands dirty, supports green eating and looks great doing it.”

We couldn’t agree more. Though we might be a bit prejudiced.

I checked out the latest Huffington Post organic farmer entries, and while there are some darn fine specimens out there, they don’t hold a candle to our crew of farmers. Take Davy, for example. Not only was he a Captain in the Air Force, but to top it off

he looks like this. Cute, right? One heck of a lot cuter than the farmers on the HuffPost slideshow, believe me. Especially if you like that rugged, Jeremiah Johnson look. (And who doesn’t?)

And there’s Mary, she of the sparkling red hair.

Who besides a natural farm girl would pick up and gently cradle a Texas alligator lizard to rescue it from the hungry beaks of roving chickens?

There’s some real beauty for you.

The alligator lizard is nothing to sneeze at either, when it comes to good looks.

Even the reptiles are attractive here. Those turquoise eyes are enough to make any Gerrhonotus infernalis swoon!

Davy and Mary are much younger than Dana, John and me. (Probably the Texas alligator lizard is, too, yet I haven’t a clue how to tell. What do you do, count the rings on its tail?) Still, I’d say we three…um…wizened-with-age farmers can still hold our own. While the years+plus+gravity equation is busy doing its inevitable dirty work, I do believe the ultimate sense of style we’ve developed and perfected over time more than makes up for a little sag here, a couple wrinkles there, and the daily sproinging of newly minted gray hairs.

For example, notice how proud I am of my “high water” pants and white socks. I don’t know that even lovely Mary could make this fashion statement quite so eloquently.

I can’t begin to compete with Dana, though, no matter what I do.

I mean, really. Why bother trying?

And although I’ve included the following photo of Farmer John in a previous newsletter, I can’t help but reprint it here. Because what’s more appealing than a man in unwashed pajama pants, holding a bank bag?

He may be in serious need of a shower, but honey, he’s clutching cold, hard cash in that bag. Now that’s sexy!

As stunning as we all are here at the farm, I would never dream of entering any one of us in the Huffington Post contest. Nor would I want you to do it. I find that kind of solicitation tacky, especially when you’re talking beauty contests. The knowledge that any one of us would crush the competition is enough for me.

Besides, if the other contestants were to see this picture of Dana (which she entitles “The Offspring of Minnie Pearl and the Scarecrow”), they’d simply die of jealousy.

***Here’s what your beauty queens will be bringing to the farm stand on Wednesday:

Napa cabbage; tender & sweet Farao cabbages; head lettuces (green leaf, red leaf and romaine); Provencal lettuce/chicory salad mix; the first of the fall spinach; possibly the last of the “ugly” butternut squash (its beauty is on the inside – delicious!); arugula; bunches of chard; bunches of Asian greens; bunches of Brussels greens; broccoli greens (sooooo good for you!); radishes; bell peppers; Cubanelle peppers; eggplant; some cauliflower (the end of this crop…but more coming soon!); and several “some of this’s and thats.”

**In case you’re wondering, the farm stand will be OPEN the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.

***People have asked how best to reply to the blog. If you’re receiving this via email, you can either click on the “comment” link below…or just hit your “reply” button to get directly to me.

Thanks!
Jo Dwyer
Angel Valley Organic Farm
Farm stands:
In Jonestown on FM1431 at the blinking yellow light, Saturdays beginning at 10 a.m.;
In NW Austin on Jollyville Road between Oak Knoll and Duval (at the Asian American Cultural Center), Wednesdays beginning at 10 a.m.

 

Expertise

We plant very few of our crops by direct seeding. Farmer John uses his walk-behind seeder for root crops mainly, like carrots, radishes, turnips and beets. We start almost everything else in our greenhouses.

Many gardeners and farmers use plastic trays molded into “cells” for their starts, but we’ve always been a fan of soil blocks. They’re popular in Europe (ooh la la!) and touted by John’s gardening guru, Eliot Coleman. Those two facts alone are reason enough for Farmer John to be enamored with the soil block method. And because we reuse the flats that hold the soil blocks – therefore preventing at least a little more plastic from ending up in the landfill – it makes all of our ecological egos (eco-egos?) here on the farm glow that much greener.

Soil blocks are exactly what they sound like: blocks of soil. They’re formed using a hand-held contraption

with a cookie cutter-type grid on the underside of it.

After pouring a pile of wetted potting soil onto the cement floor and tamping it down to even it out (like a crumbly cookie dough), the person in charge of making the soil blocks – usually Mary, who’s become quite the expert at it – pushes the blocker into the mix, pulls a lever on the handle that forces the grid to grab the soil, then lifts it over to a plastic tray and gently releases it. Each tray holds three “grabs,” thus giving us 60 cubes per tray. (At this point, the cubes resemble brownies more than cookies…but as far as sweet treats go, I’d be happy with either one.)

Every block is molded with an indentation on top for placing the seeds, and the tiny air spaces between the blocks deter the roots of each individual plant from straying all willy-nilly outside its boundaries. When the starts grow large enough to either transplant into 3-1/2” pots or set out as-is into the rows, we simply pull them out of the trays, block-by-block. It makes transplanting so easy.

If only the same could be said for seeding the blocks in the first place.

Well, actually, for some it does come easy. Seeding soil blocks is Dana’s expertise. For reasons light years beyond my comprehension, Dana considers an afternoon of sitting at a table transplanting starts into 3-1/2” pots the equivalent of, say, being forced to stand on her head in a corner and miss supper…yet she actually enjoys hunching over that same table, reading glasses balanced at the end of her nose while she meticulously drops miniscule seeds one-by-one into soil blocks.

And you know what’s even crazier? When John tells her we need 2-3 seeds per block, or 5-7 seeds, or 1 seed, she gets it right. So does Mary, though I don’t think she finds the satisfaction in it that Dana does. Davy hasn’t had as much practice, but he does a good job, too. Me? I stink at it.

Normally I beg off soil block detail altogether. However, a few weeks ago when we realized the latest succession of lettuces needed desperately to be seeded for fear of getting them planted too late, it happened to be a Sunday. Out of sheer guilt, I volunteered to seed the soil blocks Farmer John had made that morning, so he could go out and ride around on his tractor (or do some other Sunday Farmer John-esque thing like set up new rows of irrigation, or watch sports on TV).

John instructed me to put 1-3 lettuce seeds in each soil block, then left me alone with my seed packets. Did you know that green leaf lettuce seeds are not only infinitesimal, but they’re also black? The same color as wet potting soil? I quickly gave up trying to count how many microscopic seeds tumbled into each block, and chose instead to go on instinct.

Never trust my instinct. Ever. Last week, we planted the results of my lettuce seeding. We knew already from the looks of the flats in the greenhouse that it wasn’t starting out well.

The flats appeared to be a tad…thick. The proof was in the pudding (yet another deliciously sweet treat!) as we pulled apart the soil blocks and found multitudinous plants crammed into each one.

Hint to gardeners: It takes a whole lot longer to set out transplants when you first have to pinch off all the excess starts. As an example, when I finished trimming the block shown above, I was left with this.

By my count, it looks like I’d planted at least nine more seeds than necessary. By the time we finished the bed of green leaf lettuce, there were far more discarded starts on either side of the row than were set into the ground.

A couple weeks ago, a customer who recently started a garden of her own came through my check-out line. As I weighed and totaled her purchase, she asked me a series of questions about different aspects of growing. Her final inquiry was about seeding – she wanted me to tell her how we’re able to control how many seeds we plant.

She assumed she was asking an authority on the subject. We’ve been doing this for almost eleven years, after all. I stared at her for a second, deciding whether I should fake my expertise, or tell her the truth….

***Here’s what we’ll have for you at the farm stand this Wednesday:

The first of the Snow Crown cauliflower; head lettuces (green leaf, red leaf and butterhead); “ugly” butternut squash (a bit scarred from sitting on wet ground back in September, but delicious!); arugula; bunches of chard; bunches of Asian greens (great for cooking – add sauteed greens to an omelette, yum – or tender enough for salad); bunches of Brussels greens; a kale/collards mix; radishes; bell peppers; Cubanelle peppers; eggplant; Provencal lettuce/chicory salad mix; the last of this crop of broccoli (more coming a little later in the season); and some of this and that.

**Interested in learning how to build a greenhouse? David Pitre from Tecolote Farm is leading a two-day workshop on greenhouse construction with Max Elliott from Urban Roots on Nov 14 and 21, from 9 a.m. through 1 p.m. each day. For more information, email tecolotefarm@juno.com or max@youthlaunch.org.**

Thanks!
Jo Dwyer
Angel Valley Organic Farm
www.angelvalleyfarms.com
Farm stands:
In Jonestown on FM1431 at the blinking yellow light, Saturdays beginning at 10 a.m.;
In NW Austin on Jollyville Road between Oak Knoll and Duval (at the Asian American Cultural Center), Wednesdays beginning at 10 a.m.

 

A Bridge to Somewhere

The on-the-spot television reporter was interviewing a group of homeowners furious with county officials (from which county, I don’t know, as we tuned in to the story a little late) for their reluctance to improve the only road that provides these people access out of the housing development. The road intersects a creek, you see, and in order to drive over the creek they must traverse a low water crossing – which, like all low water crossings, becomes impassable when the creek rises.

The Angry Homeowners complained that every time the creek overflows the crossing, they become “trapped in their homes” and are unable to get to work. To illustrate how high the creek had risen when it last rained, the television reporter pointed to a structure running parallel with the low water crossing and declared, “You can see that the water rose almost to the bottom of this bridge!”

Um…bridge? Farmer John and I looked at each other, then back at the television.

It was a bridge, all right. A footbridge. Granted, the homeowners couldn’t drive their cars on it, but I imagine they could walk. That’s the primary function of a footbridge, if I’m not mistaken. And speaking from years of experience living with the prospect of being “trapped” at home by a flooded creek, I’d think people with a footbridge available to them might park their cars on the opposite side the day before a forecasted rain event. The following morning, then, they’d need simply take a little stroll to where their vehicles awaited them.

Maybe the idea of walking a few blocks is off-putting to these people, or perhaps there are giant man-eating trolls living under that bridge. I don’t know the entire story. I do know, however, that there are days I’d almost be willing to chop off my pinkie toes, if that’s what it would take to suddenly have a bridge over our creek.

After all the rain in September and October (over 25 inches at the farm), this low water crossing thing is getting old. The ground is so saturated, there’s always at least some water rushing over it – often too much for a car to cross. Farmer John is able to pick up Dana, Mary and Davy on the other side of the creek with the big farm truck when the crossing looks like this:

Yet when it looks like this,

we’re “trapped” at home, for sure.

I can think of worse places to be trapped, like in the audience of a lecture series on quantum physics, for example, or at a baby shower for the Octomom. But being stuck at home isn’t really a problem for us personally. What makes things difficult, is that we can’t get Dana, Mary and Davy here to help with the farm work.

Despite the rain – and because of the rain – there are so many things that need to be done on the farm. Harvest is problem enough when dealing with inclement weather.

Still, harvest is a priority, since we want to bring as much to the farm stands as we possibly can. We concentrate on that first and foremost. When we’re shorthanded due to the flooded low water crossing, though, we fall behind on so many other important chores. Consequently, out of desperation, and with the assistance of our neighbors, we’ve devised an alternate route to the farm.

This is where our neighbors live.

On this hill. At the very top. The next time the low water crossing is impassable even for the farm truck, Dana, Mary and Davy will drive up there and park their cars at our neighbors’ house. Farmer John will hike up the hill to meet them, and they’ll all descend to the farm together. On foot.

Somehow, I don’t think the Angry Homeowners would consider this option.

***The weather sure is beautiful now! We’re looking forward to a full week of sunshine. We’re looking forward to bringing you lots of goodies on Wednesday too! Here’s what we’re planning to have for you at the farm stand:

Lots of Gypsy broccoli; head lettuces (green and red leaf, romaine and butterhead); “ugly” butternut squash (these are a bit scarred from sitting on wet ground back in September, but they’re just as delicious as the perfect ones!); arugula; bunches of chard; bunches of Asian greens; bunches of Brussels greens (great for stir-fry, or steam whole leaves to use as wraps); a kale/collards mix; bunches of kohlrabi; bell peppers; Cubanelle peppers; purple eggplant, heirloom Rosa Bianca eggplant, and white Japanese eggplant; lettuce mix; Provencal lettuce/chicory salad mix; pink and purple radishes; bunches of sorrel; dandelion greens; and some of this and that.

Thanks!
Jo Dwyer
Angel Valley Organic Farm
www.angelvalleyfarms.com
Farm stands:
In Jonestown on FM1431 at the blinking yellow light, Saturdays beginning at 10 a.m.;
In NW Austin on Jollyville Road between Oak Knoll and Duval (at the Asian American Cultural Center), Wednesdays beginning at 10 a.m.

 

Smudges

One thing for sure, plants have a will to live. After having been beaten, battered and drowned, the farm is showing more signs of life than we’d ever imagined. The tiny escarole and chard starts that were flattened by hail have mostly picked themselves up, dried themselves off and pushed out new leaves. The Napa cabbages, ripped to shreds during the storm, are forming heads deep inside the tattered exterior leaves. Even the mature chard that was all but destroyed just three weeks ago (as Katherine phrased it, “The chards turned into shards”)

is now in good enough shape to begin to harvest again. Granted, it required quite a lot of clean-up, yet once the ruined leaves were cut off and the plants were treated to multiple days of sunshine they’re almost good as new.

Sadly, the same can’t be said for all the crops. Some are suffering a serious chlorosis problem, the most glaring example being the bed of purple kohlrabi. While we prefer to sell our kohlrabi with the nutritious leaves attached,

these “greens” would more accurately be described as “yellows.” (Notice, though, the weeds surrounding the kohlrabi are green, green, green!) Oddly, the white kohlrabi adjacent to this bed kept its color nicely, despite enduring identical torture as the purple variety.

Go figure.

Then there’s the broccoli. Oh dear, the broccoli. The first rows of Packman came down with a terminal case of fungal rot – a condition caused by too much rain, for too long a period.

Earlier this week, I walked through the rows and cut off the diseased heads. Maybe we’ll at least get some side shoots from those plants eventually. Luckily, the later broccoli (Gypsy, our favorite) is starting to head up.

We have our fingers and toes crossed that they’ll be able to grow to fruition without succumbing to the same fate as the Packman.

Maybe the smudge stick will help.

Dana told Farmer John about the stick while the two of them were busy cutting away storm-ravaged arugula. John had confessed that he’s willing to try anything to turn our luck around, as it seems our farm is a target lately. He’s convinced it’s our own fault. Karma, perhaps. I’d suggested it might be retribution for all the insects we’ve murdered in cold blood…but as John pointed out, we’ve been doing that for so long, you’d think our payback would have come before now.

As the story goes, shortly after Dana and her partner bought a lovely older home in Central Austin, a series of disasters occurred: their new bamboo flooring buckled; the beautiful retro turquoise stove caught fire; and a contractor drilled a hole through the foundation and into their plumbing, to name just a few. Fearing evil spirits or a curse set upon the house by the previous owners (or at the very least, bad cosmic vibes) they bought a smudge stick.

Farmer John and I knew nothing of smudge sticks. Smudge pots, however, we were familiar with. I remember in the first year of the farm, we were faced with a late April frost. This was well before we invested in roll upon roll of row cover – before we realized our valley was such a cold spot.

In an attempt to protect the young tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers that April night several years ago, John devised his own version of smudge pots. The afternoon prior to the arrival of the cold front, he stacked small piles of wood in strategic spots within the three acres that comprised the farm at the time. After dark he went out and lit them, hoping the smoke would envelope the plants and stave off the frost. As an added protection, while he kept watch over the burning piles, he dragged hoses along the rows and sprayed the crops with water throughout the night.

Around 5 a.m. he noticed icicles hanging from the tomato plants. He used the hoses to put out the fires, came inside, and went to bed.

We’re hoping for a little better luck with the smudge stick. In case you’re unacquainted, a smudge stick is a tightly-bound wand of herbs about the size of a collapsible umbrella. You light the end of it, blow out the flame when it starts to smoke, and walk through the affected area while waving it around. According to the package, the magical smoke cleanses and blesses “yourselves [and] your surroundings to create an atmosphere of peace and healing….”

Farmer John and I aren’t usually ones to give much credence to mystical hoohaw. We’re more the practical types, for the most part. But what if our skepticism caused our troubles in the first place? After Dana carried a smoldering smudge stick through their house, the disasters ceased. If the same happens with the farm, maybe it’ll make believers out of us once and for all.

***Even though we haven’t tried out the smudge stick yet, we find ourselves with a pretty darn nice produce list this week! Here’s what we’ll be bringing to the farm stand on Wednesday:

Butternut squash; bunches of slender green onions; arugula; bunches of chard; bunches of Asian greens; zucchini and Zephyr squash; bell peppers; Cubanelle peppers; purple eggplant, heirloom Rosa Bianca eggplant, Apple Green eggplant and white Japanese eggplant; lettuce mix; Provencal lettuce/chicory salad mix; the first of the head lettuces (red leaf and green leaf, for sure, and perhaps romaine); pink, purple and red radishes; and maybe a few other goodies, if we can get to them between downpours!

Thanks!
Jo Dwyer
Angel Valley Organic Farm
www.angelvalleyfarms.com
Farm stands:
In Jonestown on FM1431 at the blinking yellow light, Saturdays beginning at 10 a.m.;
In NW Austin on Jollyville Road between Oak Knoll and Duval (at the Asian American Cultural Center), Wednesdays beginning at 10 a.m.

 

Lyla and Daisy

Recently, we adopted two hens – Lyla, a Buff Orpington and Daisy, a Barred Rock – from a neighbor whose house is up for sale. The timing couldn’t have been better for us. After losing our sweet Gimpy along with two other hens in a raccoon attack earlier in the year, and then the sudden deaths of our last Black Australorp and second-to-last Brown Leghorn as a result of the record-breaking summer heat, we were down to only four chickens before Lyla and Daisy arrived.

We knew our neighbor had loved them. Not only did she tell us so, but the care she’d given these two hens is evident. They’re beautiful birds. So much so, in fact, we were a little embarrassed to introduce them into our existing chicken clan. That’s not to say we don’t pamper our hens! Au contraire. Farmer John especially dotes on the chickens. Still, perhaps as a result of granting them their freedom throughout the day, our birds tend to be a tad rougher of feather. We’re hoping their street-smart appearance doesn’t rub off on Lyla and Daisy too much. It’s nice watching clean, fluffy hens running around.

What’s most interesting about the merging of our neighbor’s hens with ours is that now, out of six chickens, we have six different breeds: Production Red, Brown Leghorn, Americauna, Black Sex Link, Buff Orpington and Barred Rock. If they actually all hung out together, the diversity would be particularly apparent; yet as it stands, Lyla and Daisy tend to go one way, while the rest (dubbed by John as “The Gang of Four”) go another.

Until snack time. Even though Lyla and Daisy haven’t quite figured out the difference between a good treat and a GREAT treat (the exquisiteness of bread crumbs continues to elude them), they fully understand that when a human holds something out in their general direction, it means food is most likely forthcoming.

Cameras, however, are confusing…and more than a little disappointing. Like a few days ago, when I spotted Lyla and Daisy meandering up the walkway towards the house and dashed out to the front porch, camera in hand. They thought sure the small object must be some sort of gustatory delight and headed straight for it. The Gang of Four, previously nowhere in sight, immediately picked up on the familiar cooing sounds of chickens asking for a hand-out, and quickly caught up with the other two.

Daisy and Lyla, wanting nothing to do with such a rude procession, turned to go (as Miss Red pushed forward from fourth place – notice that left foot pumping, below).

It didn’t take long for Daisy and Lyla to hightail it (literally) and give way to the pushy Red.

Before they had a chance to discern for themselves that the object I clutched was not an offering of snack food, my itchy trigger finger set off the camera’s flash. Startled, the hens froze in their tracks, like deer caught in the headlights.

Once they came to their senses again, they realized they wanted no part of this. Even if the human’s light saber were filled with something as delectable as cooked rice, say, or al dente egg noodles, it wasn’t worth either the fear or the temporary blindness (in one eye, anyway) to investigate the contents of that vessel any further. Lyla, Daisy and The Gang of Four skedaddled down the walkway as fast as their little chicken legs could carry them.

You know what, though? The next time I walk out to the porch with something in my hand, they’ll be convinced it’s a split cucumber, chopped chard or fresh bread (Lyla and Daisy are bound to acquire a taste for it one of these days) and will once again come running. Even if I’m carrying only the camera, the hens will come. I’d bet my life on it. For their sake, however, I’ll make sure the flash is turned OFF.

**Despite the hail, despite the 20.25 inches of rain that’s fallen on the farm since the beginning of September, we’re starting to see a little progress with some of the crops. Believe me, they aren’t ecstatic! But we’re cutting out the bad stuff and harvesting the good – enough to reopen the farm stands. Yay. Here’s what we’ll have for you this coming Wednesday, Oct. 21:

Butternut squash (from the crop we harvested a few weeks ago and set aside to cure); spaghetti squash; summer squashes (zucchini, Zephyr, pattypan and yellow squash – more of some and less of others); okra; arugula; bunches of Asian greens; different colors of bell peppers; Cubanelle peppers; jalapeno peppers; purple eggplant, heirloom Rosa Bianca eggplant, Apple Green eggplant and white Japanese eggplant; the first bunches of radishes (don’t know yet whether we’ll have a lot or just a few); possibly some Asian cucumbers; and whatever else we can find out there in the mud!

Thanks!
Jo Dwyer
Angel Valley Organic Farm
www.angelvalleyfarms.com
Farm stands:
In NW Austin on Jollyville Road, between Oak Knoll and Duval, Wednesdays 10 a.m.- 2 p.m.;
In Jonestown on 1431 at the blinking yellow light, Saturdays 10 a.m. – 2 p.m.

 

A Spring Storm in October

Most of the general public is of the mind that farmers rejoice over rain. Particularly after the extended drought and record-breaking summer heat, a non-farmer type would logically assume that the recent rain events found us breaking out the champagne and toasting every downpour. And truth be told, when the initial rains started to fall at the beginning of September, we were indeed cautiously optimistic about the prospect of continued rainfall.

By the end of the month, however, after receiving a total of 8.2 inches, we were beginning to grow a little weary of the rain. While we certainly didn’t want it to cease altogether, we sometimes wished it would hold off at least long enough to get our fall crops in the ground. September is a busy month for planting and we had two greenhouses filled to the brim with starts that desperately needed to be set out.

Finally last Thursday, Farmer John was able to till several rows and we made a concerted effort to empty as much of the greenhouses as possible. We spent many hours planting out tiny collards, kale, chard, escarole, cauliflower, leeks and green onion starts. It was a long day of bending and crouching, but we were happy for the opportunity to get it done – especially since we knew there was once again a good chance for rain that night.

And rain it did. Around 9:45 p.m., a violent storm let loose its fury directly overhead. When nickel-sized hailstones began beating against our living room windows, John and I opted for a safer spot away from all the glass where we felt a bit more protected yet were still able to view the carnage outside.

“It’s October!” we wailed, as the spring-like storm raged. Although we’re always hopeful they’ll pass us by, we anticipate hail storms like that in April and May. But not in October. Not in the fall.

In ten minutes, 1.3 inches of rain fell on the farm, in addition to the hail. At 10 p.m., inside our flooded outbuilding, I was busy lifting the latest harvest of butternut squash from the waterlogged cardboard upon which it had been left to cure, while John worked the push broom across the floor to get the majority of the water out. Only our utter exhaustion allowed us to sleep at all that night. We knew we’d be faced with a disaster the next day.

Friday morning wasn’t pretty. The escarole we were planting in the previous photo was ripped apart and plastered to the ground;

as was the tiny chard.

The bigger chard, from the row we’d been harvesting for our first two farm stands of the season, didn’t fare any better.

One of the saddest sights, though, was our rows of summer squashes. They had been beautiful – the healthiest squash rows we’d enjoyed since spring, before the horrid heat set in for the duration of the summer – and we’d been picking box upon box of perfect zucchini, Zephyr, yellow straightneck and pattypan from them. Farmer John harvested squash just three hours before the storm.

The morning after, every squash plant was broken and battered.

A bright spot amongst the devastation was the majority of our Brassicas. Even though the leaves of the broccoli, cauliflower, brussels sprouts and green and purple cabbage plants were tattered, very few of them snapped at the base. They have time to recover.

Sadly, we can’t say the same for the Napa cabbages.

And although I didn’t take a picture of the rows of tomato plants, let’s just put it this way: There’s no need to ask us if we’ll have fall tomatoes this year.

Surprisingly, we managed to keep some pretty stiff upper lips through it all. It wasn’t the first time the farm was blasted by hail, and it sure as heck won’t be the last. Many plants were lost, but we felt confident that many others would survive.

Then Saturday night it rained again. On Sunday, it poured. In a 12-hour period, seven inches of driving rain fell on the farm, pounding the already hail-battered plants while turning our small creek into a raging river.

The good news is the water from our creek ultimately spills into Lake Travis, and we all know Lake Travis needs all the water it can get right now. Because of this, John had already perfected his response to the oft-exclaimed, “I’ll bet you’re happy the farm is getting all this rain!” (since farmers are always happy about rain).

So as not to disappoint the grinning inquisitor, Farmer John diplomatically answers, each and every time, “As long as it fills the lake, it doesn’t matter what it does to the farm.”

We do indeed care deeply about the drought coming to an end and the lake filling to normal levels. We’re thrilled to see some progress in that regard. Yet I know, when John gets to the part about the effect on the farm, he’s lying just a little.

***Regrettably, we have to close the farm stands until we can accomplish some clean up work and give the plants time to decide whether or not they’ll live. We WILL be back; we just don’t know yet when that will happen. Our hope is that we’ll see enough improvement in two weeks to return to our markets. I’ll keep you posted.***

 

Cute Fluffy Tails Notwithstanding

We’re reopening the Jollyville Road farm stand next Wednesday, September 30th! We’ll open at 10 a.m. that day. A little farm story follows below, with this week’s produce list at the bottom. If you haven’t yet signed up to receive our blog via email, just click on the subscription link at the right of the page and follow the instructions. Thank you!

Through the years, we’ve had many a home gardener ask us what we “do” about squirrels. Nothing, we tell them. Although families of squirrels have called the farm home as long as we have (longer, actually) there haven’t been enough of them – or at least they’ve not been hungry enough – to cause us any real harm. I’m sure they nibbled a vegetable or three along the way, but we were usually too busy battling other horrors like grasshoppers or stink bugs to notice.

I wouldn’t say we feigned sympathy with the inquisitive gardeners, but it’s doubtful we empathized as much as someone who was dealing with the same problem. The discovery of ten squirrel-ruined tomatoes leads to way more consternation when a person has only five or six tomato plants in their garden, as compared to a farm brimming with three or four thousand. We just hadn’t experienced much loss due to the furry little mammals ourselves.

Until now. Ground squirrels have managed to substantially increase their population over the summer, with each new offspring setting up house here, as well, when old enough to move out of the nest. Why would they leave the farm, after all? We compliant farmers continue to grow a more than ample food supply for them. And to make matters all the more cushy, we run row upon row of drip irrigation tape alongside the bounty. All a thirsty squirrel need do is chew through the plastic and voila! Instant water fountain.

Before Farmer John and I left for our two-week vacation, John pulled out the pellet gun. Now, he had no intention of shooting the squirrels himself. He suffers too much post-murder guilt, even when his victim is a chicken-mauling raccoon. No, he was hoping either Dana or Davy would do the dirty work while we were away. (We knew Mary wouldn’t shoot a squirrel, being the most pacifistic of us all.)

Even as we enjoyed the beauty of Quebec, Canada, we were constantly reminded of the squirrel situation back home. In every park, at every public place, squirrels abounded. Old women stopped to toss them pieces of croissant…while behind their backs, I formed a “gun” with my thumb and forefinger, aimed it at the little rats with bushy tails and whispered, “Pow! Pow!”

One day, on a sidewalk in Montreal, we came upon a young man holding a baby squirrel in the palm of his hand. He’d apparently rescued it from high in a tree close to the street, and other people had stopped to admire the tiny creature. “Pow. Pow.” I said, once we’d passed by and were no longer within earshot.

And I used to think of myself as a live-and-let-live kind of person, at least where fluffy mammals were concerned.

While we were away, I became obsessed with the butternut squash. In more than one email, I asked Dana if they’d been able to begin picking it. I feared the squirrels were just waiting…waiting…to get at the fruit the moment it reached its tanned, ripened state. Granted, unlike a raccoon, a ground squirrel can’t totally consume a butternut squash – but squirrels can certainly ruin the harvest by nibbling holes into each one.

Dana’s cryptic answer assured me that the squirrels hadn’t gotten to the butternuts, but she’d leave it to Davy to tell us why not. All John and I could figure was that Davy had, after all, taken to shooting the furry culprits. We found out later, however, that holding off the squirrel attack wasn’t Davy’s doing. The one in charge of protecting the now powdery-mildew laden – and thus even more exposed – butternuts…

…was a rattlesnake. No squirrel in its right mind is going to risk becoming a rattler’s lunch, no matter how tempting the butternut squash patch looks.

John has tried to flush out the snake several times since we’ve been home, but it appears the snake has slithered onward.

Perhaps the six-plus-inch rains will subdue the ground squirrels for a bit. At the very least, with our creek once again full and flowing, there shouldn’t be a need for the little varmints to chew through our drip tape. And while we’ll keep an eye out for that rattlesnake – with plans to kill it at the first opportunity, rather than risk one of us becoming a rattler’s lunch – we’re secretly hoping it might snack on a few squirrels before we find it.

As the marvelous rains fell on the farm back here, we enjoyed sunny days with temperatures in the 70’s in Quebec. Our vacation was perfect in almost every way. There was just the one thing, on our last day in Montreal. We’d climbed the steps to the top of Mont Royal for a spectacular view of the city, and decided to check out the lovely old chalet there. Once inside, as I admired the enormous front room and visualized couples in 19th century garb circling the floor in dance, John stood spellbound, staring at the ceiling.

“Oh…my…gosh,” he muttered. I looked up.

There’s simply no getting away from them…

**We’re looking forward to setting up the farm stand next Wednesday! Thanks to the rains, and to our excellent co-farmers who took such great care of everything while we were gone, we’ll be bringing:

Four varieties of summer squash (zucchini, Zephyr, yellow squash and some pattypan); lots of okra; Asian greens; loads of arugula; bunches of Swiss chard; sweet basil; three varieties of eggplant (purple, heirloom Rosa Bianca and white Japanese eggplant); red bell peppers, yellow bell peppers, white bell peppers, Cubanelle peppers and jalapenos; a few Asian cucumbers; and whatever else we might run across. (The butternuts, now safely harvested, need to sit and cure for a couple more weeks or so to “sweeten up” before we bring them to market.)

**If you’re receiving this via email and have comments or questions, you can either use the Comment link at the bottom of the page, or you can just hit your “Reply” button to send a response directly to me.

Thanks!
Jo Dwyer
Angel Valley Organic Farm
http://www.angelvalleyfarms.com
Farm stands:
Saturdays in Jonestown, FM 1431 and Park Drive, 10 a.m. – 2 p.m.
Wednesdays in Austin, Jollyville Road between Oak Knoll and Duval, 10 a.m. – 2 p.m.

 

Welcome!

To receive our blog via email, please click on the subscription link on the right. (If you’ve already done so, we thank you!) We’ll begin posting stories from the farm, along with vegetable lists, when the farm stands reopen at the end of September.