Archive of Past News of the Farm:
The Monday Route January 25, 2010 |
The Monday Route
January 25, 2010
Greetings Friends of the Farm,
Monday morning, Larry woke with an earnest complaint. “Why can’t we have an automatic coffee maker, like most normal people do?”
While we are not exactly in the "normal" camp, we do drink coffee, and I admit neither of our two coffee “machines” can be programmed the night before, to come on by itself and brew perfect cups of coffee for our morning rituals.
The farm stand houses the large restaurant-style maker that drips out a full carafe of coffee, normally for our customers, and in the pantry hides the simple Peruvian pot that I bought for a dollar in Lima, twenty-five years ago. This slightly banged-up little pot is honest in its design: a bottom catch-it vessel that holds about two cups; above it sits the metal “filter” into which you put the coffee grounds and then the hot water, which you have to heat separately in a tea kettle. Both the tea kettle and the coffee pot then share the still-lit burner, so that the coffee can stay hot as it collects in the bottom of the pot.
(Two Pots...)
Larry detests this Peruvian pot, so I use it when he is at the other farm. He says his stove-top percolator, also a simple contraption, is far superior. But it is there and not here. He tolerates the farm stand operation except that it is .... IN the farm stand.
Because of its location, someone (he) is required to go to the farm stand in the early hours, in the dark, fill a pitcher with water from the adjacent salad shed -- also in the dark, unless he fumbles for the illogically located light switch. Then the water must be brought back to the farm stand, the coffee ground in the separate grinder, and finally the system is ready to activate. After these complicated preparations, the execution is then exactly the same as the Peruvian pot's, with the exception that the farm stand pot uses a paper filter, so tiny dots of coffee grounds stay in it and do not fall into the pot.
The Peruvian pot, if you rush things, often retaliates with some grounds, which must be fished out your cup with a spoon. Not exactly an onerous situation, but coffee is meant to be sipped and not chewed, and the fishing is an extra step. The worst step however is if you bumble a bit and knock the pot over. Then the coffee and all the little dots spill down into the stove, and a severe cleanup is needed. Before remaking the coffee.
A convenient thing about the pot in the farm stand, is that once the system is activated, one can retrieve the newspaper from 300 feet down the driveway in the time needed for all the water to become coffee. No diddling of course, as timing is critical so that the coffee does not grow cold.
But often, Larry brings the coffee carafe into the kitchen and then exclaims that, dang it, he left the newspaper outside.
This is the way we have lived for the 18 years we have been on this farm, and until this morning I did not understand that to Larry, pre-first cup mornings have generally not been too pleasant. I do agree that lately, making the caffeine fix has become even more arduous. Because of the “jail” that the farm stand barn now is.
Because of the robberies.
Tonight is Monday. We are on the looters’ Monday schedule, a schedule that is influenced by the moon. With no moon, the bandits skip us as the farm’s wealth is harder to find. Oh, neighbors have lights on every eave, but the brilliance does not illuminate the interiors of say, the laundry shed, or the farm stand barn, or even the walk-in cooler in the salad shed. On previous Monday nights, we have lost many bunches of orange carrots (but not the yellow or red ones -- gourmets, these guys are not!), an almost-new skill saw, and my electric lawn mower. The second loss got to Larry; the mower got to me.
Anything of value now must be stored in the house. A wonderful woman, whose email address I cannot find (so she should contact me please!), gifted us a green wheelbarrow. It is in the kitchen. Larry replaced the saw, which was in the kitchen with other tools, but since it is Monday, he took it to the other farm, just in case. The carrots are now in the waste water treatment plant. I don’t want them back.
(The lovely green wheelbarrow, a nice addition to the kitchen...along with the tools....)
To make things a bit harder for the criminals, not that he’s a particularly hard-hearted man, Larry enclosed the farm stand barn in "hardware cloth" with a chain and a key. He also bought a motion detector which transmits “warmth” crossing its path to an alarm box sitting in the kitchen, next to the valuable goods.
(The jail/farm stand barn. Yes, I know, some scissors would cut that chain, but perhaps they won't bring any!)
I
am instructed, if I am here alone, to arise when the alarm sounds, get
dressed, slip out the back door with an instrument full of bird shot,
find the burglars, ching-ching the instrument, and scare them away.
This is a heady responsibility. And perhaps unnecessary. There is very little left to steal. I reason they already know that, but they did forget to take the charger for the lawn mower, so maybe they will be back for that. But it’s in .... the kitchen.
All of this plus the weather. That’s farming, they say. But back to the coffee pot. I remarked to him that we can’t have an electric coffee maker because there is no place to put it. We have no closets, the tools have dominion, and it would be in the way on the small counter where I prepare veggies and such. Of course, I guess we could get a new lawn mower, keep it in its box, set it on top of the green wheelbarrow, and install the coffee maker on top of the box. That might work, until the grass grows or a crop needs transportation. Meanwhile, the full moon will be this coming Saturday, and by next Monday, there will still be enough light....I’m ready.
Carol Ann
Back Monday morning, Larry woke with an earnest complaint. “Why can’t we have an automatic coffee maker, like most normal people do?”
While we are not exactly in the "normal" camp, we do drink coffee, and I admit neither of our two coffee “machines” can be programmed the night before, to come on by itself and brew perfect cups of coffee for our morning rituals.
The farm stand houses the large restaurant-style maker that drips out a full carafe of coffee, normally for our customers, and in the pantry hides the simple Peruvian pot that I bought for a dollar in Lima, twenty-five years ago. This slightly banged-up little pot is honest in its design: a bottom catch-it vessel that holds about two cups; above it sits the metal “filter” into which you put the coffee grounds and then the hot water, which you have to heat separately in a tea kettle. Both the tea kettle and the coffee pot then share the still-lit burner, so that the coffee can stay hot as it collects in the bottom of the pot.
(Two Pots...)
Larry detests this Peruvian pot, so I use it when he is at the other farm. He says his stove-top percolator, also a simple contraption, is far superior. But it is there and not here. He tolerates the farm stand operation except that it is .... IN the farm stand.
Because of its location, someone (he) is required to go to the farm stand in the early hours, in the dark, fill a pitcher with water from the adjacent salad shed -- also in the dark, unless he fumbles for the illogically located light switch. Then the water must be brought back to the farm stand, the coffee ground in the separate grinder, and finally the system is ready to activate. After these complicated preparations, the execution is then exactly the same as the Peruvian pot's, with the exception that the farm stand pot uses a paper filter, so tiny dots of coffee grounds stay in it and do not fall into the pot.
The Peruvian pot, if you rush things, often retaliates with some grounds, which must be fished out your cup with a spoon. Not exactly an onerous situation, but coffee is meant to be sipped and not chewed, and the fishing is an extra step. The worst step however is if you bumble a bit and knock the pot over. Then the coffee and all the little dots spill down into the stove, and a severe cleanup is needed. Before remaking the coffee.
A convenient thing about the pot in the farm stand, is that once the system is activated, one can retrieve the newspaper from 300 feet down the driveway in the time needed for all the water to become coffee. No diddling of course, as timing is critical so that the coffee does not grow cold.
But often, Larry brings the coffee carafe into the kitchen and then exclaims that, dang it, he left the newspaper outside.
This is the way we have lived for the 18 years we have been on this farm, and until this morning I did not understand that to Larry, pre-first cup mornings have generally not been too pleasant. I do agree that lately, making the caffeine fix has become even more arduous. Because of the “jail” that the farm stand barn now is.
Because of the robberies.
Tonight is Monday. We are on the looters’ Monday schedule, a schedule that is influenced by the moon. With no moon, the bandits skip us as the farm’s wealth is harder to find. Oh, neighbors have lights on every eave, but the brilliance does not illuminate the interiors of say, the laundry shed, or the farm stand barn, or even the walk-in cooler in the salad shed. On previous Monday nights, we have lost many bunches of orange carrots (but not the yellow or red ones -- gourmets, these guys are not!), an almost-new skill saw, and my electric lawn mower. The second loss got to Larry; the mower got to me.
Anything of value now must be stored in the house. A wonderful woman, whose email address I cannot find (so she should contact me please!), gifted us a green wheelbarrow. It is in the kitchen. Larry replaced the saw, which was in the kitchen with other tools, but since it is Monday, he took it to the other farm, just in case. The carrots are now in the waste water treatment plant. I don’t want them back.
(The lovely green wheelbarrow, a nice addition to the kitchen...along with the tools....)
To make things a bit harder for the criminals, not that he’s a particularly hard-hearted man, Larry enclosed the farm stand barn in "hardware cloth" with a chain and a key. He also bought a motion detector which transmits “warmth” crossing its path to an alarm box sitting in the kitchen, next to the valuable goods.
(The jail/farm stand barn. Yes, I know, some scissors would cut that chain, but perhaps they won't bring any!)
This is a heady responsibility. And perhaps unnecessary. There is very little left to steal. I reason they already know that, but they did forget to take the charger for the lawn mower, so maybe they will be back for that. But it’s in .... the kitchen.
All of this plus the weather. That’s farming, they say. But back to the coffee pot. I remarked to him that we can’t have an electric coffee maker because there is no place to put it. We have no closets, the tools have dominion, and it would be in the way on the small counter where I prepare veggies and such. Of course, I guess we could get a new lawn mower, keep it in its box, set it on top of the green wheelbarrow, and install the coffee maker on top of the box. That might work, until the grass grows or a crop needs transportation. Meanwhile, the full moon will be this coming Saturday, and by next Monday, there will still be enough light....I’m ready.
Carol Ann