O’Neill: July and August are the seasons of endurance

Casey O’Neill is a farmer and owner of Happy Day Farms in Laytonville, Calif. The opinions expressed in this column do not necessarily reflect the views of The Mendocino Voice. If you’d like to write your own column for The Mendocino Voice, send your idea to info@mendovoice.com.

The smoky air is thick in my lungs. By afternoon my movements are slowed, like I’m pushing through molasses. I’ve gotten acclimated to the heat, wearing old cotton long sleeve work shirts that once served a fancier purpose, their buttons now broken, cloth torn and stained with long years of use. My hat is in a similar state, slowly coming apart as the weave breaks down. This time of year, I feel the same, worn and battered but still functional. 

July and August are the season of endurance, the times when we push through with sheer determination of will. These are the times when I question myself, and it’s a good time to make notes on planning for next year. It’s now, in the trenches, that decisions are clearest, not yet faded into the rosy afterglow of the cool, darkness of winter. 

Summer is the hardest time for farming, despite the heavier lifts during planting and harvest. Summer is the time of maintenance, of daily harvests of squash, of extra hand-watering to try to cool and moisten crops that struggle in the constant heat. It is also a time of abundance and bounty, and we race to keep up, bringing it in, processing, selling, managing excess into canned goods and frozen products for home and for sale. 

The first cucumbers arrived this week, bringing a blessed coolness for afternoon snacks and sliced into water bottles for extra electrolytes. Along with my normal thermoses of coffee, tea and broth, I add ice cubes, lemon juice, electrolytes and cucumber slices to two water bottles before I head out in the morning. These five vessels get me through midday, when I refill the water bottles and switch to iced coffee. A wet towel goes under my hat with three ice cubes on top of it, cooling my head and making a damp microclimate around my shoulders and neck. 

Tending living things carries heavy responsibility in the heat. Everyone suffers through, but without care and consistency plants or animals can die a hard death. This knowledge keeps my feet moving, but there is also a deep joy in the simple experience of cooling water. Yesterday during afternoon chores I hosed Ms. Piggie off, watching her sit relaxed in the wallow as the water cascaded over her. After her soaking, she scratched herself slowly from her jowl all the way to her back flank on an old pier block. I stood, laughing and enjoying the moment, reminded that water is the antidote to heat. 

We’re stretching shade cloth everywhere these days, covering packing areas, garden beds, greenhouses and cannabis gardens. Heavier 50% shade cloth goes over fresh plantings for the first week, lessening transplant shock and the danger of losing tender seedlings. The soil stays moist much longer under cover, lessening the labor of hand-watering and the likelihood that a missed watering will result in crop loss. After the first week we switch to 30% shade, which stays on for the duration of salad mixes and other tenderlings, or is removed after the second week for hardier, summer-loving crops like squash and beans. 

We’re shifting our strategy for cannabis to include 25% red shade cloth for all beds. It’s a lot of work to set up, but everything seems happier underneath it, including me. The cannabis is resplendent, and when I look at the comfrey, alfalfa, mallow and perennial grasses growing next to the beds, they are all thriving. Water usage is lower under shade cloth, and the winds are modulated a bit. 

It’s all about adapting to the heat, figuring out how to manage ourselves and our farm activities for best results with the least hardship. Adding additional workload is tough, but if it means better crop health and higher quality in the final product, then it’s worth the extra effort. Last year was the first time I covered my main salad mix tunnel and the beds just outside of it, stretching a 30 foot by 50 foot piece of 30% shade cloth. When I took it down at the end of the season, I rolled it up and left it connected to the T-posts that run the southern edge of the space, so that resetting it this year took less than an hour because everything was already in place. When we can adapt in ways that get easier over time, we are more likely to be successful. 

Even as the heat lands heavy on our heads, the days tick off the calendar, and the sun sets earlier. Each year seems to go by faster, and I deepen into the lesson that “This too shall pass.” I revel in the abundance of squash and basil, take joy from the first cucumbers, and look forward with deep delight to the arrival of melons and tomatoes. These are the blessings of the season that counteract the difficulty, providing succor to my tired being. As always, much love and great success to you on your journey!

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Casey O’Neill owns and runs HappyDay Farms, a small vegetable and cannabis farm north of Laytonville. He is a long time cannabis policy advocate, and was born and raised in the Bell Springs area. The preceding has been an editorial column. The Mendocino Voice has not necessarily fact-checked or copyedited this work, and it should be interpreted as the words of the author, not necessarily reflecting the opinions of The Mendocino Voice.