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Having spent one seasonal
cycle on Licking Creek Bend Farm, I found there is no better
way than making one's living directly from nature;
to feel the pulse of its ebb and flow.
Frost visited our little valley in southern Pennsylvania
for the first time this season right at the beginning of October.
It killed the basil, okra, eggplant and squashÑall
but the hardiest of our crops. This ended the bulk of our
harvesting, leaving frost-hardy greens like chard, kale, and
turnips to be picked for market.
Late-summer crops such as squash and pumpkins still had to
be washed and sold, as they were moved from the field to the
barn to prevent frost damage. But our main job for October
was tying up loose ends and cleaning our messes from this
season, so they don't carry over to the next.
A lot of work still had to be done before the farm workers
could hibernate for the winter. Every single one of our 2,700
tomato plants and stakes had to be yanked from the ground
and thrown in piles. The stakes were collected for re-use
next year. The vines were thrown in an enormous heap that
made a roaring bonfire throwing sparks 40 feet into the air.
This prevented any diseased plants from passing viruses on
to the field next year.
One time-consuming and dirty job was pulling up the hundreds
of feet of black plastic mulch, into which we planted most
of our crops. The mulch, similar to trash bag material, served
several purposes. The black color warmed the soil early in
spring, and kept it that way through fall. The physical and
sunlight barrier kept weeds from popping up around our crops,
which were planted in holes in the mulch. And the combination
of heat and weed suppression kept the soil light and aerated
around the plants, to allow oxygen and water to reach the
roots.
During the frenzy of tomato-picking season, weeds grew up
around the baby Christmas trees planted this spring. Since
the weeds were taller than the seedlings, the grass around
each tree had to be mowed very carefully so the seedlings
could get some light this winter. This job could not be done
too hastily, or little trees would be mowed along with the
grass. The larger Christmas trees had to be manicured with
a knife, similar to a machete, so that they would have the
perfect cone shape with one point on top for a decoration.
Usually, I am sad to see fall come because it marks the end
of summer. This year, after working on a shorthanded farm,
from the bare trees of spring back to leafless trees of fall,
I can see the coming of winter as a necessary part of the
seasonal cycle. The amazing growth of spring would not be
possible without a rest for plant, pest, and predator alike.
Winter comes as a welcome break from overwork, as it is for
the rest of the living world.
Voice reporter Andrew Mefferd is working
this season on Voice columnist Mike Tabor's organic farm,
Licking Creek Bend Farm. They are located on 60 acres in Needmore,
Pa., six miles over the Maryland border. Updates of what they
are doing on the farm are delivered monthly to Voice readers.
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