Welcome back to Scrap Farm, the podcast/newsletter where I talk about starting a farm, while running a farm, amid a climate in crisis.
First off, Happy Birthday to my Father. Here’s a cute picture of him and my baby sister next to some Dahlias that were definitely never smuggled. I have very fond memories of being on the allotment with him, too small to understand the magnitude of plants but big enough to eat a whole artichoke head on the reg.
Housekeeping (not that my father turning 49 for the 19th time is housekeeping, of course) out the way, time for the heavy stuff. At times I find it hard to strike the balance, to show the scenes of pastoral life while also paying heed to the climatic changes underway.
Anyone seen the first-of-its-kind hurricane Kirk heading towards Europe for Wednesday morning? Or Milton going from CAT1 to CAT5 in a matter of hours (and reaching the mathematical limit for a hurricane)?
The devastation wrought through Ashville NC is still so fresh. It’s not a sneak preview of the years to come. This is it. It only gets worse.
Ah, lighthearted. A good way to start.
Crops and cyclones aren’t the only things on my mind of late. It has been a year since the siege on Gaza began. Since Israel let loose their colonial fury in unrestrained and violent ways. More brazen than ever before. It has been a year of genocide on all our screens and shit all done to stop it. Not to mention the ongoing displacement, murder and modern slavery in (but not limited to) the Congo.
It feels flippant to talk about Winter Squash harvests and cutting down the Okra next to a backdrop of genocide. And to mention them just briefly feels like lip service. Simply to cover my ass, so that history looks favourably on me. That is not the intention. But it may be the outcome.
As I write this, I try not to go off-scope. I have been trying to focus on what I stated I would talk about: the current farm, the future farm, the search for land, the realities of farming, small scale, as ethically as possible (within the bounds of late-stage capitalism), but MY GOD. It feels so small. Pastoral in the worst sense of the word. Insular and insulting.
All of these problems are connected. Climate change is interwoven with colonialism, which is tied to land use and water access. Nothing exists in a vacuum. But how the fuck can I reconcile writing about planting spinach while more than half of Gaza’s farmland has now been damaged by ‘conflict’. At times, honestly, I can’t.
Current Farm Updates
As this season comes to a close I have finally had a chance to catch my breath. Whether it has been the unrelentingness of being one of the only full-time employees or the juggling present and future, in truth my partner and I are burning out.
We’re too tired to think straight. And yes it feels whiney to say this within the same few sentences as literal genocide. But it also points to the realities of the time in which we live. Where people are too tired just trying to survive to look up and realise everyone else is suffering too. You can still know it, it can still stop you in your tracks every so often, and yet, you still have to pay rent. You still have to go to work.
So we went to work. We paid rent.
The squash field which we had all but abandoned after two mass weeding events has managed to yield a metric fucktonne of Winter Squash as well as some beautiful pumpkins for the most intrepid U-Pickers.
Most of the squash we have been harvesting, at one point it was 800 lbs per day, have been found with our feet. As we push through the heavy grass that has grown up we happen upon an ankle-turning, hard, delicious prize. You may ask, and it would be fair to, why the weeding got so out of hand. After talking about planting the full 5 acres by hand (Read it here: Heat Shook) we have several successful rounds of eco-weeding. This involves driving the tractor between the rows of squash and dragging a contraption (the eco-weeder) behind which has spinning claw hands that rip out weeds. The problem comes when the squash plants decide they don’t want to grow in perfectly straight rows but instead venture out into the ‘pathways’ in search of more nutrients and sunlight. Apparently, squash plants don’t like being run over, so our weeding gets halted in its tracks. For anyone asking why we don’t just use a herbicide, I would say mass extermination in any form is pretty unconscionable and leave it at that.
So we harvested squash. And there’s still more out there.
We have also taken down all of our outside tomatoes. Gone. Done. Dusted.
We have put some absolutely beautiful silage tarps on out on our weediest blocks. This will take advantage of a process called Occultation, where the tarps will trap the last of the October sun and bake the plants underneath. Allowing weed seeds to germinate but not giving them any light until removed in the spring. This is just one of many ways to prevent weeds organically. And honestly favourable to having to weed manually. This will happen eventually no matter what we do (though as the seed bank depletes and tillage remains off the table it gets easier every year).
The cucumbers are still going strong which is a surprise and not likely to last. We have some cold nights coming and those babies are toast. But I’ll make one more dish with them while they’re here. Ah, seasonal living.
Speaking of, my partner and I have eaten a winter squash a day for the past couple weeks. All the ones about to rot as they cure in the greenhouse. We’ve been loving the Sunshine Kobocha and the Dessert Spirit Culinary Landrace along with the Delicata (a classic). They have been cooked simply, sliced, tossed in olive oil and salt and baked until browning. Dipped in Siracha Mayo. Dang. That’s Autumn right there.
Over the coming weeks, we’ll be extracting more plants. This Saturday marks the 24th AND FINAL week of our CSA. It could not have come sooner. I think possibly a CSA that runs for nearly half a year with no break is a lot. I will be glad to be taking it slower no matter what we do next year. After that final CSA pickup comes the team potluck and then in just three weeks we’ll fly to London.
Future Farm Updates
We’re flying to London to go to my cousin’s wedding. Sorry to get your hopes up about the future farm. We are currently in the hushed silence waiting period as our Business Plan is being read by the landowners we sent it to. No pressure. No big deal. Thank goodness no one is panicking.
But for real, I have managed, finally, after a long conversation with my mother, been able to obtain some peace on the matter. Noting is getting sorted this week. Or next week. Or honestly even next month. I have now promised myself ‘No decisions until December’, since it seems at this point I’m too fraught to do anything well let alone smartly. And that is pretty freeing.
I’m hopeful for the land in the UK. I have put out feelers for jobs that I can get to help with the visa process (and initial starting-a-business costs). My partner and I have talked about Plan B and Plan C. And none of those plans need a decision now. So if we wind ourselves up over it we’ll be worse equipped to make those choices.
Capitalism wants us to rush. Wants us to believe in scarcity. That if someone else has something it means I can’t have it too. That’s a lie. And I can’t be asked with it.
We’re going to work on other business plans, we’re going to hopefully talk to landowners. We’re going to make something work.
But first rest.
And a bit more squash to harvest.
M
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