February 25, 2011 The Gift of Green

Greetings Friends of the Farm,

Typically every morning, while still in bed, I try to figure out what in the world we will do today. I lie there, comfortable but turning a bit anxious, imagining the rows of crops, imagining their readiness or their reluctance, imagining the freeze damage I fear they are harboring (retaining), perversely. Let it go, I encourage them (and myself) from beneath the warm comforter. Grow out of it! Get on with life! (But do not go crazy: no bolting! There is time for seed making later.)

Walking in the pre-morning darkness to the exit gate, picking up my feet as my mother, Little Dove, taught me, so that I would not stumble -- or, more to the original point, mar the hardwood floors I and my Bro had just waxed and buffed -- I wonder, why did the paper carrier decide to change gates? It took me several days to figure out the new throwing target. Back inside the farm house, I peruse the morning comics (Oh why did they move Doonesbury to the classifieds? To entice me to buy a used car? (The shouting TV car commercials have not convinced me to buy one either.)

At seven, the helpers arrive, and those whose job is known get to work harvesting or cleaning out beds. The interns -- whose tasks are ever changing -- and I walk the rows, determining our actions for the day.

This morning, optimism erupted frequently, as butter head lettuces, tyrannized by the recent unpleasantness, regrouped with the aid of a couple of weeks of mild temperatures, a little bit of sunshine and the 2/10ths inch of rain yesterday. So we again have lettuce: Butter Head Babes salad and Personal Ermosa Butter Heads for market.
The first stalks of celery are tall enough to bunch.Since egg season is upon us (February through June), why not make an egg salad with fresh celery and home made mayonnaise?

Additionally, a new crop of baby arugula can be cut. And the spinach is finally having a field day!

The rain even brought some green to our yards. Thank goodness, as now we know where our yards are. A few weeks ago, while Cousin Claire was minding the farm during my once-a-week errand run, a SUV drove up and parked right in front of the front porch. On the yard. Cousin Claire was aghast, as even if this is East Austin, guests do not park on the yards, only the residents do. (For good reasons of course.)

So she gamely went up to the driver's side window and tapped on it. Down the window comes slightly, as the day was very cold, and Claire asks if the car can be moved back to the parking area, as this is the front yard. The woman, incredulous, replies that it does not look like a yard, and even so, they will be leaving soon. Even with daffodils and narcissus blooming in the background, even with steps rising to the porch two feet from the car, even though there is a caliche/gravel parking area that had to be traversed to get into the front yard. OK.

Well, with compassion for the driver, all was brown from the travesty of the recent unpleasantness but the flowers and the porch should have been a clue. Cousin Claire is much sweeter than a guard dog, but she knew I had just spread compost on the front yard to encourage it to come back green, so she was a bit stunned by the pronouncement of non-yard.

Today, however, there would be no misunderstanding of yardness, as the tiny rain encouraged the hen bit and the horse herb to grow and be green.

Everything, thus, is much better than before, thanks to the nicer weather and the continuing support of the Friends of the Farm. It is hard to say which we appreciate more! Both are true gifts.

Carol Ann

PS: We now have a surprising amount of produce on the market tables, and we are constantly planting. More cool weather crops will be coming in continuously. Meanwhile empty beds are being prepared for our mid-March planting of heirloom and cherry tomatoes. Things are looking up!