It turns out that no matter how you box, crate or stack a thousand pounds of winter squash, they still weigh a thousand pounds. Yesterday we hauled sheep in the morning, and then I went to see our friends at Oak Valley Farm in Lake County to pick up butternuts, delicatas, kuris, kobochas, and cushaws. They are currently in our little box trailer, waiting to be unloaded today into the shipping container for winter storage.
Winter squash are one of my favorite foods, a core staple in our diets through the dark months, speaking volumes to me of hearty meals, tasty soups and the warmth of the oven and wood stove on cold nights. I love to cut them into bite-sized pieces, coat with olive oil, sprinkle with seasonings and roast them on cookie sheets until they start to caramelize on the edges and smaller pieces. I’ll do two big trays of them and then have a big Tupperware to add to meals over the next several days where they’ll stretch stir-fries and leftover breakfasts with hearty flavor and substance.
We harvested our own butternuts, acorn squash and pumpkins this week as well, bringing in another five hundred pounds of winter goodness for pies, roasting, selling and some for feeding to pigs and sheep. Lots of seconds came from our harvest and from Oak Valley, so the livestock will eat well through the holidays while cutting down on our feed costs. Pumpkins are a natural de-wormer for sheep and pigs, so we always grow some specifically for this purpose.
I’m deeply grateful for the change in the season with the arrival of proper rains after a long, dry fall. This week we scrambled to finish the many tasks that cascade with a coming change in the weather: sowing seeds, transplanting young crops, covering beds with hoops and row cover, and putting equipment away under cover. The pigs have to share their space in the barn with the tractor, but neither seems to mind, and there is still plenty of room for all.
It felt good to finally get the garlic in the ground, with a big team breaking up the heads and planting the cloves. We’ve cut down to two varieties of hardneck, one row each of Metichi and Red Siberian, and expanded to six rows of the highly productive softneck variety that my Ma handed down to us. It makes big, beautiful heads that keep for many months and is perfect for the gorgeous garlic braids that Amber makes for us to sell at markets. The hardnecks are more pungent and make scapes that we harvest in the spring for tasty flavor, but they don’t store well and don’t seem to produce heads as large as the softneck.
As the rain fell on Friday morning, I used the tractor to ditch the road in places where water needed an exit, and then we cleared some of the summer detritus from crops in the greenhouse to replant with Asian greens. We still have a lot of cover crop to sow as we continue the breakdown of the cannabis beds, and the winter crops will continue to march forth from the seeder or the trays of starts waiting in the greenhouse. We continue to sow seeds every two weeks, as we do year-round to make sure there is always a fresh lineup pushing us to clear beds for replanting.
After picking up the winter squash yesterday, I had the pleasure of sitting on a panel at the Mendocino County Museum in Willits, talking about cannabis, community, what has gone, what is, and what may come in the future. I’m always inspired by gatherings where folks can share their perspectives as we think about how we work together in community to thrive. I’m grateful to Annie Waters and Richard Jergenson for their efforts to pull together myself, Genine Coleman, Wendy Read and Mike Adams for the discussion, and to Karen Matson and Lindsey Dick for their work at the museum on the “Behind the Redwood Curtain” cannabis exhibit that is on display for another couple of weeks before it packs up to travel to museums around the state.
I especially appreciated Wendy’s discussion about the medicinal values of cannabis, Mike’s points about the real progress that has been made towards the end of Prohibition in this country, Genine’s take on the policy work that remains a key part of the transition, Richard’s perspective as a historian, and Annie’s moderation of the panel. The audience was engaged and supportive, and I came away from the event feeling hopeful and energized. I’m reminded that the more we grow food and medicine for ourselves and within our communities, the more capable we become.
I turned 44 this year, and I’ve been thinking back on the last sixteen years of my life as a farmer, seeing how much our farm has grown and changed, and it gives me great hope to see what we can do in the next sixteen years. We’ve learned so much, and I’m reaching a transition point in life, beginning to pay more attention to the youth, to teaching and mentoring young farmers and supporting folks in growing plants and raising livestock on their own. Life is good, and as always, much love and great success to you on your journey!