For those of you new to the CSA this year, for over ten years we’ve had a harvest party for CSA members and friends of the farm at our place. It’s been the last week of September for quite a few years. Potluck, music, farm tour, connections…it’s been great.
After many years we’re kind of burnt out – event planning stresses us out in a way that packing CSA boxes doesn’t. So, this year we chipped in with our fellow farmers in the Sustainable Farming Association chapter to do a harvest festival instead. Although I’m sure many of you are saddened that we will at Lida Farm on in two weeks for the potluck, hear me out because I think this may be the best of all worlds.
Called the Deep Roots Festival, there will still be good music, farm tours, food, and connections on Saturday, October 12 starting at 1 pm. You not only get the official farm tour of Lida Farm, but there are three other farms on the circuit including North Circle Seeds, Northcroft Fiber Farm, and Twin Oaks Diary. In addition, there are three hands-on food workshops in the afternoon to choose from before a catered farm-to-table dinner. No need to bring a dish, just show up and enjoy the show! I’m also excited that we’ll be hosted at Milt’s Barn near Pelican, which is a wedding venue. So, it’s not only a beautiful setting, but one which functions well for dinner – no blowing fuses and the whiff of manure as you would experience in our own barn 🙂
There is a cost, however, but I think it’s going to be worth it. It’s $35 per adult or $30 (if you become an SFA member) for dinner and all activities. We worked to keep it a family friendly event, so only $5 per kid 12 and under. IF you only want to stop by Lida Farm and pickup your pumpkin (free to all CSA members), you can certainly jump on our tour for no cost but I would love for you to consider signing up for the whole event. All proceeds go to our chapter to promote sustainable agriculture in the region. Please sign up at http://www.deep-roots-festival.com
We hope its the first of an annual event to celebrate the harvest season. I know that I’m looking forward to it.
In the box:
A few regular tomatoes – are you tired of tomatoes yet?
Little salad mix
Delicata winter squash: I bake these dry (the video below suggests using water, but delicata has a thin skin). I’m also a bigger fan of an oven than a microwave… I had to use this video as a shout out to my friends in Extension!
I used to wonder why our dad got so bent out of shape when we were slow getting into the car in the morning. My brother and I were tired so we just didn’t move so fast. Our dad would give the impatient, “Come on! Let’s go!” to cajole us. In times of desperation, he’d lay on the horn in the driveway. I think in the back of my mind I had the idea that middle-aged people were just unhappy. Now I get it. I have even laid on the horn in the driveway a few times myself. Have I become my dad?
Now 42, I don’t think that middle-age makes a person unhappy. I think few people would describe me that way. But with school starting, there is just a schedule pressure that makes everybody crazy. In some ways the school schedule is good because it forces discipline at the farm. I’m a procrastinating pusher in my work style. I will only do a job when absolutely necessary, but will run like mad to slug out any task on the docket. I admire people who have two weeks planned out and diligently take measured steps day by day so everything is done at least three days before its due. I think my adrenaline levels would be more stable.
The birds have something to tell us. As I said this to Jackie, I had no idea their message. They were keeping it to themselves at this point. All day, they had gathered – flocked together, if you will – until a gigantic conga line of them were draped across my telephone wire. It was quite a sight. People stopping by the farm stand were even taking pictures.
As I walked back to my harvesting, the phrase ‘the birds have something to tell us’ took on more meaning. I remembered the story my grandmother told of losing her eldest son. She was born in the Turtle Mountains in 1920 and raised by her Metchif-speaking grandparents (Metchif is a mix of Native languages and French). Even though she had spent her life trying to get away from the reservation and being ‘Indian’, the story of her son’s passing was every bit as mythical as stories told by the oldest and wisest of medicine men. She told me how a raven had perched itself on the window near the sink where she was washing dishes. As the bird turned its eyes to meet her own and pecked at the window, she said that she knew. Upon climbing the stairs, she discovered that Scarlet Fever had finally taken him even though Billy lived but 20 minutes before. She recounted this to me some 60 years later with the lingering pain of a mother’s heart, but also the wonder of a story that held great meaning. The raven was not a coincidence, but a messenger from another world. To my Catholic grandmother, a messenger from God.
For me, my grandmother’s stories pulls my imagination to a pre-modern time where people better heard the messages that nature provides. She could have told stories to me that illustrated the abject poverty she lived on an Indian Reservation, but instead she chose to share images of a supernatural America now lost to time. Toys purchased from a Jewish peddler who drove his donkey cart across the prairie from Grand Forks. Her devout grandfather who knelt before he planted each row of crops to perform the sign of the cross. Family members who freely walked across the national border to gather chokecherries, just as their ancestors did. Animals communicating important news.
I don’t think the stories of humans learning from nature are exclusive to Native Americans. We don’t need to fetishize Native knowledge as if it were the only tradition available to unlock some human mysteries. If you go back far enough, every cultural tradition has respect for nature and belief in the power of nature’s spirit. Even the most modern Western European can find an earth-centered spirituality in the not too distant past, whether you call it folklore or paganism.
So, again, what are the birds telling us? At this point, A HELL OF A LOT. Are we too distracted to listen? In our obsessive pursuit of consumption, we are passing the point where nature can repair itself. We owe it to our ancestors to at least listen to this message, whether given to us by our neighborhood barn swallow or a girl from Sweden.
In the Box:
New Orchid watermelon
Black Spanish radish and some red radishes
Regular red tomatoes
A sample of heirloom tomatoes: They are ugly but good