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Farm, click Here.since 1997, making it one of the first farm email newsletters in the nation.)
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The Good Earth
May 3, 2013
A portion of the back field, from the farm house roof....
May 3, 2013
A portion of the back field, from the farm house roof....
Greetings Friends of the Farm,
I was an English major in college, by default, as it was my only "A"¯ subject in high school. While I read many books, for pleasure and to meet requirements, I promptly forgot most of them. But of all the books I didn't read, the one that would have lodged in my brain, as a bewildering premonition of my current occupation, was The Good Earth, by Pearl S. Buck.
During the torrid summer of 2011, my farm associate, Marissa, loaned me the book. Gads, it parched my soul, as we were living it! For those of you who do not plan to read this book, I will share that it concerns a Chinese couple who were peasant farmers. The woman's name was Olan. I've forgotten (a trend, of course) the name of the man, Wang something or other. To not take too much pleasure from those who might read it, I will merely say, that Olan and Wang did well at farming until their own 2011 struck with a drought more horrible than the monstrous one Texas farmers endured. Here, with temperatures peaking at 130 degrees in the relentlessly sunny fields, and no rain (6"¯ for the year,) most of the crops, including heat-loving okra and eggplant, died terrible, crispy deaths. Happily, tomatoes did well. The angels had smiled.
However, worse happened to Olan, who was such a stalwart that she could give birth and be in the field the next day with the infant strapped to her back. I admire that and wish I could hire her. A small comparison: The day I brought my one-day-old daughter home from the hospital, I went outside and pulled weeds, as she slept in her crib.
Above: Irrigation for the baby eggplant...
The important thing was that Olan and Wang didn't even have our pitiful ability to irrigate, so their crops instantly died, and the hot winds blew away the soil that held the shriveling stalks. It was such a quick and complete destruction that Olan and Wang had to leave their farm to the Chinese crows and move to a big city. There they lived inside a darkened cardboard box. (They did not have the creative invention of a modern plastic bottle stuck into a hole in the roof, through which sunlight could shine into the box. Don't you think that is a neat idea? I'm keeping it in mind for any year more awful than 2011.)
To eat, Wang had to pull people who were not farmers around the city in a rickshaw, while Olan and her children begged on the street. With their simple housing secured, they had no other expenses, except for food, so what they saved enabled them to travel back to the farm once the rains returned.
We didn't leave our farm, as we are already in the city, and Olan is with me every day as I work this Good Earth. (Jane Eyre never visits.) Whenever I am doing a task that requires a bit of suffering, I am buoyed by the thought of Olan. Marissa, and I laugh about it and call each other Olan (for her, Olan Jr.,) and I tell her she's lucky to not be sitting in a corner fooling with a piece of fabric all day long, like one of Olan's hapless kids, who was a bit "teched." Of course Marissa is a fashion-design degree holder, and fabric might call her some day -- you never know -- it may even be a more practical major than English.
At least, however, unlike Olan, I haven't had the humiliating necessity of begging, or, after returning to the farm and having normal crops, suffering silently while Larry builds on a new suite at the farm house to stash his concubine in the luxury to which she was accustomed, thanks to her tiny bound feet. Wang, flush with new wealth, deserved such a woman of pleasure, so Olan, a common, but admirable woman whose feet were made for farming, just had to take this insult. Then she got a tumor and died. I was sad, but it was the end of Olan. Wang finished no better than Olan. His reclaimed fortune was in the land, but disappointing to farmers everywhere, he died with his overly educated sons promising that they would keep the farm, all the while winking at each other behind his back.
The reason I regale you with parts of this tale of sorrow, is that during weather tragedies throughout the past century, and even before, it is typical for farmers to have to abandon their land (dust bowl?) and seek work/food in the cities. Eventually they get established, or stuck, in the city and never go back to the farm, which was likely a rental, or so heavily mortgaged, that its place in their lives kindly evaporated like a bad dream, before the next generation could be ensnared.
Rarely however, do rural farmers ever come to the city to farm. It's mostly rickshawing and other paying work that they seek. But in the last 20 or 25 years, we have people actually wanting to farm their land in the city, to feed the populace fresh -- just harvested -- organic vegetables (which many eaters value,) and by gosh, a lot of city dwellers want to live in large, suburban houses built on "abandoned" farm land! A real switcheroo!
The concept of feeding people instead of big animals, seems necessary and should be economically viable. People foods -- vegetables -- take a miniscule amount of land compared to growing feed for large animals.
But farms in a city? Even in a fertile area that was the "official farm land" of the newly planned (1839) City of Austin? Not to worry, most of the land involved, which fed city dwellers well into the mid 1900's, is permanently re-purposed -- just like much of the farm land up and down I-35 -- to dwellings, shopping centers, warehouses, and parking lots.
Developers love to build on farmland as it is usually flat, rock-less, and generally has a creek nearby that can hold the sewer lines. You know that water of all types seeks lower elevations and creeks fit that need perfectly. The natural water ways are then paved, over the pipes, to force rain water to move swiftly away from the new neighborhoods, and not into the thirsty aquifers that used to flow below the soil. No one is concerned with streets laid over the former farming fields, sporting signs saying "Pleasant Valley Road, "Oak Springs," or "Riverside Farms Road" or other references to the past use of the land and the former presence of springs.
Since the historic East Austin "bottom land" is mostly paved over, there should not be the worry that Olan and her ilk will take over. Nevertheless, the existing urban farms are seen by some as needing to be developed to their highest and best use. But for those who are anxious for middle-class houses (ie., more gentrification,) just give nature time. Nature, it turns out, is more powerful and relentless than even governmental regulators and activists.
If another year, or two, like 2011 comes along, the urban farmers may have to sell the valuable nurtured soil and reside in condominiums. We probably won't have to work for the rickshaw companies or beg on the streets, and we can recycle our plastic water bottles....
But on the darkest days ... perhaps while twisting a bit of fabric ... we'll likely dream ... about the Good Earth we left behind.
Carol Ann
PS: For home gardeners, home cooks, vegetable lovers of all varieties, award-winning author Deborah Madison has contributed a very important book, "Vegetable Literacy." It is a more cheerful book than The Good Earth, but of course, it too is rooted in the good soil. An entertaining study of 12 vegetable families with 300 recipes! (I won't forget this book!)
Boggy Creek Farm presents a book signing for Deborah Madison here at the farm stand on Saturday, May 18th, 8AM to 1PM. Meet Deborah; page through this lovely book. She will sign it for you. If you already have your copy, she will graciously sign it for you.
PS#2: For a list of produce harvested from this Good Earth, please go to our website:
http://www.boggycreekfarm.com
I was an English major in college, by default, as it was my only "A"¯ subject in high school. While I read many books, for pleasure and to meet requirements, I promptly forgot most of them. But of all the books I didn't read, the one that would have lodged in my brain, as a bewildering premonition of my current occupation, was The Good Earth, by Pearl S. Buck.
During the torrid summer of 2011, my farm associate, Marissa, loaned me the book. Gads, it parched my soul, as we were living it! For those of you who do not plan to read this book, I will share that it concerns a Chinese couple who were peasant farmers. The woman's name was Olan. I've forgotten (a trend, of course) the name of the man, Wang something or other. To not take too much pleasure from those who might read it, I will merely say, that Olan and Wang did well at farming until their own 2011 struck with a drought more horrible than the monstrous one Texas farmers endured. Here, with temperatures peaking at 130 degrees in the relentlessly sunny fields, and no rain (6"¯ for the year,) most of the crops, including heat-loving okra and eggplant, died terrible, crispy deaths. Happily, tomatoes did well. The angels had smiled.
However, worse happened to Olan, who was such a stalwart that she could give birth and be in the field the next day with the infant strapped to her back. I admire that and wish I could hire her. A small comparison: The day I brought my one-day-old daughter home from the hospital, I went outside and pulled weeds, as she slept in her crib.
Above: Irrigation for the baby eggplant...
To eat, Wang had to pull people who were not farmers around the city in a rickshaw, while Olan and her children begged on the street. With their simple housing secured, they had no other expenses, except for food, so what they saved enabled them to travel back to the farm once the rains returned.
We didn't leave our farm, as we are already in the city, and Olan is with me every day as I work this Good Earth. (Jane Eyre never visits.) Whenever I am doing a task that requires a bit of suffering, I am buoyed by the thought of Olan. Marissa, and I laugh about it and call each other Olan (for her, Olan Jr.,) and I tell her she's lucky to not be sitting in a corner fooling with a piece of fabric all day long, like one of Olan's hapless kids, who was a bit "teched." Of course Marissa is a fashion-design degree holder, and fabric might call her some day -- you never know -- it may even be a more practical major than English.
At least, however, unlike Olan, I haven't had the humiliating necessity of begging, or, after returning to the farm and having normal crops, suffering silently while Larry builds on a new suite at the farm house to stash his concubine in the luxury to which she was accustomed, thanks to her tiny bound feet. Wang, flush with new wealth, deserved such a woman of pleasure, so Olan, a common, but admirable woman whose feet were made for farming, just had to take this insult. Then she got a tumor and died. I was sad, but it was the end of Olan. Wang finished no better than Olan. His reclaimed fortune was in the land, but disappointing to farmers everywhere, he died with his overly educated sons promising that they would keep the farm, all the while winking at each other behind his back.
Above: Tomatoes, Potatoes, Parsnips...
The reason I regale you with parts of this tale of sorrow, is that during weather tragedies throughout the past century, and even before, it is typical for farmers to have to abandon their land (dust bowl?) and seek work/food in the cities. Eventually they get established, or stuck, in the city and never go back to the farm, which was likely a rental, or so heavily mortgaged, that its place in their lives kindly evaporated like a bad dream, before the next generation could be ensnared.
Rarely however, do rural farmers ever come to the city to farm. It's mostly rickshawing and other paying work that they seek. But in the last 20 or 25 years, we have people actually wanting to farm their land in the city, to feed the populace fresh -- just harvested -- organic vegetables (which many eaters value,) and by gosh, a lot of city dwellers want to live in large, suburban houses built on "abandoned" farm land! A real switcheroo!
The concept of feeding people instead of big animals, seems necessary and should be economically viable. People foods -- vegetables -- take a miniscule amount of land compared to growing feed for large animals.
Above: People food....
But farms in a city? Even in a fertile area that was the "official farm land" of the newly planned (1839) City of Austin? Not to worry, most of the land involved, which fed city dwellers well into the mid 1900's, is permanently re-purposed -- just like much of the farm land up and down I-35 -- to dwellings, shopping centers, warehouses, and parking lots.
Developers love to build on farmland as it is usually flat, rock-less, and generally has a creek nearby that can hold the sewer lines. You know that water of all types seeks lower elevations and creeks fit that need perfectly. The natural water ways are then paved, over the pipes, to force rain water to move swiftly away from the new neighborhoods, and not into the thirsty aquifers that used to flow below the soil. No one is concerned with streets laid over the former farming fields, sporting signs saying "Pleasant Valley Road, "Oak Springs," or "Riverside Farms Road" or other references to the past use of the land and the former presence of springs.
Since the historic East Austin "bottom land" is mostly paved over, there should not be the worry that Olan and her ilk will take over. Nevertheless, the existing urban farms are seen by some as needing to be developed to their highest and best use. But for those who are anxious for middle-class houses (ie., more gentrification,) just give nature time. Nature, it turns out, is more powerful and relentless than even governmental regulators and activists.
If another year, or two, like 2011 comes along, the urban farmers may have to sell the valuable nurtured soil and reside in condominiums. We probably won't have to work for the rickshaw companies or beg on the streets, and we can recycle our plastic water bottles....
But on the darkest days ... perhaps while twisting a bit of fabric ... we'll likely dream ... about the Good Earth we left behind.
Carol Ann
The BCF Farm House, 1840/41. The farm grew wheat and corn (and milled it plus the grains of other farms,)
and raised cattle and pigs. This farm and others in the East Austin bottom land fed the citizens of Austin.
and raised cattle and pigs. This farm and others in the East Austin bottom land fed the citizens of Austin.
Boggy Creek Farm presents a book signing for Deborah Madison here at the farm stand on Saturday, May 18th, 8AM to 1PM. Meet Deborah; page through this lovely book. She will sign it for you. If you already have your copy, she will graciously sign it for you.
http://www.boggycreekfarm.com
Thank you for supporting Local Agriculture!