Day 42, June 29, 2010

Nine-twenty in the evening. The sky is clearing in the gloaming, sharpening as the humidity dissolves. Of course it is nearly dark, but I am always amazed how late the horizon glows, and how quickly this solar treat dies as summer races into fall.

After a quick dinner I drive to the farm and spend an hour tying some of the tomato plants to their stakes. The Beefsteak plants are filling with fruit, while the Brandywine section sports plenty of yellow flowers, but still no sign of tomatoes. I later learn that Brandywine is among the slowest maturing tomato cultiver. There is yet hope for these 1 1/4 lb. pale monsters. The dill hedge looks eerie in the dark, as I leave.

Driving home, I notice a message on my phone. It is Carol Barnes Craig to tell me that the Board of Trustees of Old Mystic United Methodist Church has agreed to allow us to establish a farm stand in their parking lot! If it is successful, we will look into a new farmers market for next year... after all, it seems people never tire of fresh produce and other local products. Our area already has one market in Mystic on Tuesdays; one in Stonington on Saturday, and another equally lively market on Sunday at the Nature Center. It is amazing how people go out of their way support the work of farmers.

I realize that this is my first year growing products on a larger scale, and I realize that customers will expect more than we can offer. We will seek the best locally grown items that other local farmers can provide... items like sweet and butter and sugar corn, root vegetables, novelties like soaps and syrups, and whatever is available. If they are able, we will invite them to join us for sampling and promotion of their wares. Now that I know that we have a great location and a supportive group in Old Mystic United Methodist Church, it is fun to scramble and plan with a purpose!

We should be open in a week or two. Details such as days and hours will follow.

Day 40, June 27, 2010

Likely, after reading yesterday's post, "Radiant Expressions writes: "Please!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't tell your followers you've gotten a "REAL," job.....;C}) Already, I am too sad when a day goes by where I cannot vicariously check the weeds with you..................:c("

Well, I can say to you, Radiant, I have found a real job. In fact, I experience all of the expectations, politics, incidents, stresses and fleeting promise of a "Real Job." New people, and their expectations, are wending their way into my nascent enterprise. I have been encouraged at times, and reprimanded at others. I deal cheerfully with committees, boards and property owners, prospective wholesale and retail customers. I have felt encouraged and rejected. I have short-term and longer-term goals, and really no budget other than surplus materials and equipment left over from my distribution business.

Through all of this, and as I reflect on an early Sunday morning, I am learning, bit-by-bit, a little more about faith. I am seeing everything, if you will, in the most visceral, seemingly childish terms.

Wherever I go, be it a farm, or a store, or a parking lot, I am a guest. I realize that I represent the most fragile of conditions, and in many ways, I must certainly suggest one who is in need. I have a good sense of humor, so I can live with this tentative life. I realize that practically everyone out there lives in fear, and the more money one earns, the more difficult it becomes to suddenly live without it. We are all equal... at one time or another.

Although my present situation will likely lead to new products, new investors, new distribution and a new chance to prosper, right now, at this moment, I am on my knees, pulling weeds, plucking and crushing squishy red Colorado beetle larvae between my thumb and forefinger, just like Farmhand Jimmy taught me. I am, well, loving the opportunity to exist, and still survive. I take this chance out of my own need to live and work as I wish.

I have faith, certainly in a traditional, secular sense... but I also have faith in my ability to determine how this scenario eventually plays out. I have a job, and it is a most important one. I have a new belief, as I wrote, I believe, on day two that, "Rejection is God's form of protection." I am finding that when one thing happens to push me into a new situation, that it often hurts. In my case, however, leaving one imperfect situation can often lead to a better one. And even in a small community, the opportunities are pretty big. If you let them be big.

More on this later.

Right now, however, the most important job in the garden is weed control. Perhaps my greatest single cash sacrifice, to date, has been the repair - a new carburetor for my four stroke Honda weed whacker. I bought this back when we owned a ridiculously large and impractical house on five acres on a hill outside of Noank Village, CT. Even though the property was large, it was no challenge for my weed whacker, but on the farm it has been given a chance to shine.

This little machine is so powerful that when it approaches a bank of two-foot weeds, it growls a combustion snarl, and its orange nylon cord whips the weeds into water vapor and flecks of green compost. It's dirty work, but immediately satisfying!

There is still plenty of hands and knees-to-ground worship. Today, besides acting as blog photographer, Debbie is weeding the cutting beds. I finish the corn rows and start in on the bush beans. Waiting for Deb to finish the flowers, I decide to tie some tomato plants to their stakes. Up close to these plants I notice that hundreds of small tomatoes are growing on the vines! They are well camouflaged, pale green fruit nestled inside the darker protective hues of their host plants.

Day 39, June 26, 2010

This turkey is running around with his head cut off! Not only is the garden growing like a weed, the weeds are growing like a garden.

This onion patch is finally weeded, the weed whacker is repaired and winning the battle between the rows in the pumpkin patch.

Honestly, folks, I've been incredibly busy, too much so to maintain a consistency in daily blog postings. There is big news afoot, a change of strategy, and an announcement..... hopefully.... forthcoming soon.

Short and sweet! Like hybrid corn. More later!

Day 34, June 21, 2010

A birthday and a new year. Ostensibly wiser. A gorgeous day and an opportunity to take Debbie somewhere she's never been before.

Fishers Island, in many ways, is a garden unto itself. It is a place where perfection abounds, simply because it is a matter of expectation. For most of the summer residents, all expectations are within reach of one's means. Fishers Island is very private. It's a place where there are no resorts, and other than a bar and grill named The Pequot Inne, there is little to do, lest you belong to a club, or are a guest of a resident.

Which brings us to The Briar Patch. "Look, Deb," I say. "They've changed this garden... Looks professional!"

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"We used to come here and pick berries... Elizabeth called them 'Bluejuice Berries," referring to the rows of plump blackberries that would grow through August.

Someone has taken this acre plot and

transformed it into a showplace to rival Mr. Mc Gregor's Garden. And who better to detail the transformation than my old friend, David Burnham, lifelong Fishers Island resident, and proprietor of Race Rock Garden Company. This is a company who's sole mission appears to be designing, constructing and maintaining meticulous hardscapes and landscapes on some of the most beautiful, unspoiled island property on this planet.

David explains that he inherited the $50.00 -a-year utility company lease on the approximate acre lot that is "The Briar Patch." A previous Briar Patch custodial family has decided to move back to the mainland. Eventually, David explains, Vicky, the wife of the curator of the Henry I. Ferguson Museum, who's mission is "the collection, preservation and exhibition of items of Pre-History, History and Natural History of Fishers Island and, through its Land Trust, the preservation in perpetuity of undeveloped property in its natural state."

After a year or two, Race Rock Garden Company takes the garden back from Vicky. Mirapa, a Race Rock employee, has been responsible for the garden, and its magical look, ever since. "It's not the perfect thing in my business plan, but we're trying to get it interesting," David explains. In true Mr. McGregor style, he laments the presence of rabbits in the garden, and I refrain from asking him if he might eventually dress his rabbits the way Beatrix Potter drew them. After all, this is Fishers Island.

"We just want to have the vegetables ready before the summer people leave the island," he declares.

A right, proper goal, indeed.

Day 33, June 20, 2010

It's Fathers Day, and I'm making the mother of all efforts to get ready to open our Fresh Native Produce and Cutting Flower stand at Wychwood Farm.

Inspiration for the sign components comes from the oddest of sources. Case in point: I'm driving through Old Mystic and I notice that my friend, Finny is reopening her General Store after three months of shutdown and remodeling in the wake of the great April Fools' flood. There's a large sandwich signboard in front of the store advertising the fact. It's one of the only ones I've ever seen that is homemade and not from a plastics catalogue.

I make a mental note of the construction: four 2x4's, each about five feet; 2 1/4" bolts, washers and matching nuts; 2 sheets 1/2" plywood. Simple! I decide I'll follow this construction, but instead of paper signs, mine will be chalk-writable. I'll paint the plywood with chalk board paint! Debbie thinks I should spackle the plywood smooth. We'll see!

The cottage at home is filled with surplus building materials. I find four old 2x4's, trim them even and round the ends, after pulling as many old nails as possible from each board.

The 2x4's will sand up nicely. Gonna have to find some colored chalk, along with a person who is a good chalkboard artist.

We have almost completed all of the weeding, not that it won't require ongoing maintenance. At the same time, all of our plants have grown to a point where they can better withstand a reasonable amount of weeds, and so far, they are outnumbering the bugs. we keep our fingers crossed, fully aware that gardens and the tragedies that can befall them are lurking and capricious.

For Father's Day, and for an early birthday treat, Elizabeth, Debbie and I went over to my mom's house. Debbie made chocolate zucchini cupcakes, with a homemade jalapeno frosting. Since it was an idea that evolved at the farm, we choose to consider it a work in progress. We'd have celebrated at the Pequot House on Fisher's Island, except for the thunder storms all around us, all day.

Day 32, June 19, 2010

Lost in the weeds for a couple of days with my trusty garden hoe. Remember, this is my first large garden, so as we design and plant, the weeds tend to overrun the planting-completed sections. Since I'm living with my arrogant decision to avoid black plastic sheeting, I have a much more folksy garden, and hopefully the hay we are spreading will keep the weeds down. So far, so good.

I'm really sorry about this American Gothic bastardization. When I decide to post this image of myself, on the penultimate day before my 53rd birthday, I choose to check out Grant Wood's 1930 masterpiece to see if I've taken on the same gaunt no-nonsense look of Wood's original subjects.

O.K., so I grew up on the satire of National Lampoon Magazine. Those who do not know what I am talking about, ask your parents. I, therefore, cannot resist the irreverent parody of this depression-era work. It is childish. I hope it makes someone laugh. Interestingly, Grant Wood was reported to say, "All the good ideas I've ever had came to me while I was milking a cow." I feel the same way about working in a field, although it is still too soon to decide if the ideas are good!

Sooo... the tomatoes are almost completely weeded, along with 70 hills of cucumbers, about the same number of pepper plants. The pumpkins are awesome... now that we can see them. Deb got me started, weeding the pumpkins before she had to leave for the afternoon. There are five rows of pumpkins. Each row is over fifty feet long, and by the time I finish cleaning out the rows, my fingers are stained black, and a blister on the palm of my left hand has broken. Combine that with a nettle attack on my right hand, and there is sufficient reason to call it a day at four p.m.

Day 29, June 16, 2010

When I decide to bring Elizabeth to the farm, I'm afraid she'll be immediately bored. Instead, she pokes around, asks a bunch of questions, ending with, "What should I do?"

For three hours, she pulls weeds in the tomato area, never complaining. She's an amazing worker for a ten-year-old. When she encounters a spider, she yells, "Spider!"

"Big one?" I ask.

"Nope, just a little guy with some color. He's not bothering me."

Audrey, my mother, artist, designer, retailer from way back, stops by to take some photos of the area where the stand will go. Can't wait to see her ideas, as long as they are simple.

Day 28, June 15, 2010

My kids are most agreeable when they are sleeping. Sam, my oldest at 22, is asleep on a couch in my living room. "Hey, Sam..."

"Uh, Hi, Dad.... Good morning."

"Sam, I was thinking about my project, and the strongest common thread I've seen at the most successful farms I've visited is the involvement of the farming families."

"Dad, it's 7:30 on a Sunday. I'm trying to get a little sleep before I go sail in the rain.

"Well, fine," I counter. I'm just looking at possibilities... trying to understand what has made some of the best farms I've seen so strong."

"Did you buy a farm?" Jay, my middle child, an eighteen-year-old, asks from across the room, under the covers.

"No... I'm just starting to think like a farmer, and there's a lot of valuable labor on its ass, in this room." Jay and Sam have expressed interest in my latest incarnation. Sam has even come out to help.

By the end of the conversation, each kid... and I believe them... has agreed that they would give up a period of time in their lives to help me realize my dream.

"Sam," Jay says in a slumber state, "I don't know how he does it, but when Dad puts his mind to it, he makes amazing stuff happen."

O.K., so my kids believe in me, they're willing to offer to sweat out a position in a potentially prominent family business. Let's see, Sam will learn to run the sales and marketing and promotion side of the business. Jay will learn to plant fields, organize orchards, and restore and build structures as needed. Jay will likely reapply, after a year to UCONN and go for a degree from the agricultural school. Both boys will be great managers of workers because our farm will grow rapidly, will become an attraction in its own right.

Wake up, Ben!!! You're a dreamer. A sharecropper. You do a couple of hours of work in what is left of your company office, and then you come and create this beautiful garden. A financial noose will slowly close around your aging neck. It will appear as a black rat snake appears to a barn mouse, so it's time to get real. Enough of the dreams. Find a sensible job. Get your resume to a headhunter, pound the pavement, and be a good father and find a real job.

The only problem is, I've tried headhunters, and I've spoken to dozens of business owners and company workers, and that's why I'm doing what I'm doing. In fact, I believe, the only person I must report to is I. I know what it is I need to do, and either I will, or I won't. By the time the season is in full swing, the family who has loaned me their land will know me better. They will sense whether I add value to their land and lives, and perhaps they will want to know more about my vision. And honestly, my vision is shifting every day, as I see more of what other families have done with their land, and what I sense is doable based upon my abilities and experience.

Sure, this is scary, but the reason my fear manifests as exhilaration is the fact that I still have control over my goals, and I am willing to be flexible with them. I am sure other people have similar feelings.

Honestly, my kids did offer to help, to come aboard if it ever makes sense. Whether or not this ever happens, it feels good that they said it. I consider their support another couple of arrows in my quiver as I mover closer to commercialization of my dreams.

Day 27, June 14, 2010

Farmer Brown tells me that there are are ladybug lookalikes. This, I suspect means that there are ladybugs with bad intentions. I learned some interesting information from the site below, but still nothing on the hungry imposter. In fact, I cannot even tell, from the photo that I took in the garden, above, whether this visitor is a friend, or a femme fatale foe!

www.ladybuglady.com

Questions and Answers:

Larva Adult

Q. We found ladybug eggs at our house. They hatched! What can we expect to see and how can we care for them, so that we can watch the life cycle?
A. Wow! This is a very exciting time at your house!!!! Depending on the species, and the temperatures, the ladybug larva can hatch out of the egg in 4-10 days. When the larva hatch out, they are so incredibly small, you will not want to move them or touch them. Depending on the species again, the first food of the larva is to eat the egg case that they just hatched out from.
After that anything is fair game, including the other larval siblings. You may also notice that the egg cases if left have turned white and dried out. After two days, bring aphids to the larva in the bug box, the smallest aphids possible. And often. Don't add water quite yet. The larva could drown if over sprayed. They will get enough moisture from the aphids. After about four days, you will probably begin noticing the changing. They are growing and shedding the first of several skins. This process is called "in-star". Because insects have an exoskeleton (outside skeleton), when the larva grow, they have to basically bust out of the exoskeleton to get bigger. The soft exoskeleton that is revealed dries and hardens, protecting the larva once more until it has grown too big on the inside once more. This happens about 5-7 times in the larval stage, depending on the species and the amount of food available. After about 10-14 days, the larva will affix itself the a stable structure to begin the metamorphosis, the process by which the larva of an insect completely transforms in appearance into the adult form of the species. This process can take 7-14 days depending on temperature, type of species, the amount of food eaten during the larval stage and humidity. In other words, a lot of varying factors. When the adult ladybug emerges from the pupa, it is in a very vulnerable state. The ladybug's body is very soft and wet as the new exoskeleton still must dry and harden. The colors and spots look dull, but once it is dry the colors are bright and the ladybug will present the world with its new life.

Q. Do ladybugs build their own home?
A. No. Ladybugs reside where insect pest populations are high. Such as in crop fields, gardens, and in the canopies of trees.

Q. How do ladybugs protect themselves?
A. Nature has uniquely designed a warning system of colors. Red, yellow and black are colors that warn predators that the insect they are about to eat might not be a good lunch choice. The colors can warn of danger such as poisonous, bad taste, or the ability to defend itself against the predators. Colors can also camouflage and warn when there is nothing about the insect that is harmful. Ladybugs can also protect themselves by playing dead. By pulling their legs up "turtle-style", and typically release a small amount of blood from their legs. (This is called reflex bleeding.) The bad smell and the apparent look of death usually deter predators from their small ladybug snack. After the threat of danger has passed, the ladybug will resume its normal activities.

Q. Can I keep a ladybug as a temporary pet?
A. Keeping a ladybug as a pet to observe will be fun. You can house your ladybug in a bug box or terrarium. Keep the foliage moist, or place a damp paper towel inside so the ladybug can get a drink. You can feed your ladybug moistened raisins or other sweet, non-acidic fruits. This will help maintain their fat reserves until you are ready to release the ladybug in spring.

Q. What is the yellow stuff coming from the ladybug?
Ladybugs can excrete some of their blood as a defense, which is mentioned above. It is yellow and smells bad. There is that "color" defense again and it does smell quite unpleasant.

Q. It is almost spring, why are ladybugs coming back into my house?
A. They have probably been hibernating under the sliding of the house or apartment and the warmer temperatures have caused them to emerge- it's just that they are going in the wrong direction. You would think that they would be trying to get out of the house, but they are coming in. It happens. This happens because of the variation in temperatures from the interior of the home verses the outside temperatures. The ladybugs are merely confused.

Q. How did the ladybug get its name?
A. In Europe, during the Middle Ages, insects were destroying the crops, so the Catholic farmers prayed to the Virgin Mary for help. Soon the Ladybugs came, ate the plant-destroying pests and saved the crops! The farmers began calling the ladybugs "The Beetles of Our Lady", and they eventually became known as "Lady Beetles"! The red wings represented the Virgin's cloak and the black spots represented her joys and sorrows. They didn't differentiate between males and females.

Q. Are all ladybugs girls?
A. No. There are boy ladybugs and girl ladybugs. It's almost impossible for the average person to tell them apart. But here are some clue that might help. First, females are usually larger than males. Second, if you observe one ladybug riding atop another ladybug, they are in the process of mating. A male ladybug will grab the female's elytra (hard wings) and holds on tight. There are photos on the Ladybugs Mating Page to help you. An entomologist (bug scientist) can see the difference between males and females under a microscope.

Q. What are boy ladybugs called?
A. Boy ladybugs are called ladybugs, too.

Q. Can two different species mate to produce a new species?
A. A. Ladybugs are typically "species specific". That means that they can only reproduce successfully with members of their same species. The male and female reproduction parts are termed "lock and key" which means that the male's aedeagus (insect penis) will only "fit" with the female of his same species. New species evolves over time through a process called evolution. It can also occur more rapidly through genetic mutations that have continued to appear in successive generations.

Q. What are ladybug babies called?
A. Ladybug babies are the larva. They look like little black and orange alligators with small spikes. You can see a picture on thePictures of Ladybugs and Larva page.

Q. Are there different kinds of ladybugs?
A. Yes. There are hundreds of different kinds all over the world. There are about 500 different kinds in the United States and nearly 5000 world wide. They come in all different colors, too. Reds, yellows, orange, gray, black, brown and even pink.

Q. Are ladybugs poisonous?
A. No. Ladybugs are not poisonous to humans. However, they can have toxic effects on some animals. Ladybugs have a foul odor which deters some predators from eating them and their bright colors also help as a deterrent. In nature, red and orange, are warning colors that indicate to another animal or insect that the potential "lunch item" might not be a good choice.

Q. What animals and insects prey upon the ladybug??
A. There are lots of animals and insects that prey upon ladybugs. Some insect-eating birds, like martins, swallows, swifts and crows. Insect-eating insects prey on ladybugs like dragonflies, assassin bugs, parasitic wasps, and ants. Other predators include tree frogs, anoles, parasites, fungus and mites. Ladybugs certainly have their shares of problems!

Q. At the beginning of September, thousands of ladybugs were found in Lake Michigan. Why were they in and around the lake?
A. Periodically, all kinds of different insects can be found flowing in and around Lake Michigan. Although, during the early part of this month, the Lake Michigan area experienced some strong weather patterns. Insects can be carried on strong air currents created by storms, only to be "dropped off" somewhere else.

Q. Why do ladybugs come into my house in the winter time?
A. Ladybugs are attracted to the light colored houses. Especially, homes that have a clear southwestern sun exposure. Older homes tend to experience more problem with aggregations due to lack of adequate insulation. The ladybugs come in through small cracks around windows, door ways and under clap boards. They want to hibernate in a warm, comfortable spot over the cold months of winter. Ladybugs gather in groups when they hibernate, so if you see one, you can be sure more will follow. The best way to keep them out is to repair damaged clap boards, window and door trim and to caulk small cracks.

Q. Once the ladybugs are in my house, will they eat anything?
A. No. Ladybugs don't eat fabric, plants, paper or any other household items. They like to eat APHIDS. Aphids are very small, but very destructive pest that feed on plants. (If you have rose bushes, you have probably seen aphids.) Ladybugs, while trying to hibernate in your house, live off of their own body fats. They, also, prefer a little humidity. But our homes are usually not very humid during the winter. In fact, they are rather dry causing most of your ladybug guests to die from dehydration. Occasionally, you might witness a ladybug in your bathroom getting a drink of water. Now, that's a smart lady!

Q. How can I get them out of my house?
A. If you don't have a lot, just leave them. They will leave when spring arrives. Disturbing them will only cause them to stress out leaving yellow markings on your walls. The yellow stuff, you see, is not waste matter, but rather, their blood. Ladybugs release a small amount of their blood which is yellow and smells, when they sense danger. Some people have said that it does stain on light colored surfaces.

Q. But, I really want the ladybugs out of my house!
A. Use a "shop vacuum". This type of vacuum is easy to use for collect ladybugs. When using this to vacuum up ladybugs, use a clean bag or pad the bottom with a cloth. After all is clean, release the unwelcome guests outside.

Q. Is there anything else I can use to get the ladybugs out of my house?
A. Yes. There is a product called a Ladybug Black Light Trap. It uses radiating black light to attract and contain the ladybugs.

Q. Do the spots tell you how old they are?
A. No. Different ladybugs have different numbers of spots. Some have no spots while some have as many as twenty four. Ladybugs generally complete their life cycle within one year. The spots are with them all their life. They don't get more spots as they get older, nor do they lose spots.

Q. Does the number of spots tell you what kind of ladybug it is?
A. Yes and No. An entomologist can use the spots as a guide in determining what kind of ladybug it is, but it is not the only piece of information gathered. For an average person the spots can greatly help, but the shape and coloration are going to be just as important. Some different types of ladybugs may have the same number of spots.

Q. What are the life cycle stages of a ladybug?
A. Egg, Larva, Pupa, and Adult. The first three stages vary from 7-21 days each depending on the weather, and food supplies. The adult stage lasts between 3-9 months depending on weather, length of hibernation, food supplies and, of course, predators.

Q. What do ladybugs eat?
A. Ladybugs eat Aphids. Aphids are soft bodied insects that suck the juices out of plants. If you have roses in your garden, you have seen aphids. Aphids also come in a variety of colors and not all ladybugs like all the "flavors" of aphids. Ladybugs will also feed on scale insects and plant mites.

Q. How do ladybugs know which ones they like?
A. They sense for food with their antennae.

Q. Why are ladybugs considered a "beneficial" insect?

A. Ladybugs feed on aphids and other soft bodied insects that feed on plants. The ladybug feeds on these pests as the adult ladybug and as My kids are most agreeable when they are sleeping. Sam, my oldest at 22, is asleep on a couch in my living room. "Hey, Sam..."

"Uh, Hi, Dad.... Good morning."

"Sam, the strongest common thread I've seen at the best farms I've visited is the involvement of the farming families."

"Dad, it's 7:30 on a Sunday. I'm trying to get a little sleep before I go sail in the rain.

"Well, fine," I counter. I'm just trying to find a way that I can reinvent, and I think if we do it right, we can build a beautiful business..."

"Did you buy a farm?" Jay, my middle child eighteen-year-old asks from across the room, under his covers.

"No... I'm just starting to think like a farmer, and there's a lot of valuable labor on its ass, in this room. Jay and Sam have become surprisingly interested in, and supportive of my latest incarnation

Day 26, June 13, 2010

According to John Yazo at Ezinearticles.com, "Toads are a very beneficial method of insect control in your garden. They thrive on insects and eat thousands of them."

I have encountered three toads, including the little guy shown in this post, in less than two weeks. I had suspected that they would be of value to my garden. There is a swamp nearby. There is moist soil, lots of hiding rocks, and hopefully more than the three toads I have already found.

Interestingly, now that I am getting back, closer, to nature, I am recalling that when I was eight, I won two awards at Camp Sebaiik in

Sebago, Maine. They were: Most Interest in Nature, a lathed wooden plate with a frail, spindly fawn hand-painted in its center. I also received a paper certificate with subject, Best Frog Catcher. I remember proudly holding an enormous bullfrog with its pulsing yellow throat, its natural smile, comical eyes, and smooth swimmer's skin. Of course, there were many toads in the woods along Lake Sebago. I caught them, too. Although toads tend to, reportedly give warts, and they pee nervous pee in your hands, they are a nice frog substitute.

The threatening weather stays with us all day. Regardless, I arrive at Wychwood around one-o-clock, and Deb shows at four with refreshments and a discussion topic. We finish clearing weeds in the bush bean rows. Deb cleans out most the enormous cucumber patch while I lay hay between all of the exposed plants. I notice a potato beetle has taken residence on one of the cucumber hills. It has eaten a lot of the leaves, but the plant is still alive.

"Deb, how the heck is a ladybug going to eat a potato beetle," I ask, simply to break the quiet in the garden. This is a small beetle, with a black and yellow seersucker pattern on his wing covers. I have read that Colorado potato beetles are capable of producing up to three generations per season, That's a crowded insect column, for sure!

"I think ladybugs eat aphids, small larval stuff," she tells me, adding, "They're no ladies!"

"Maybe the toad will get this guy," I decide.

I am one of these odd people who hates killing anything, including bees, flies, ants, and common garden pests. My plants are mostly healthy, and the garden is alive with promise. My soil may be, although uncertified, organic, depending on whether anyone has used chemicals in the past three years... I need to ask Farmer Brown, but I will not make such claims because, why should I? The possible fact makes me hesitant to start now.

By eight-o-clock, I look across the garden. Order is returning. Stray stones and rocks are finding their way into the low center wall. Debbie has found the nasturtiums I seeded a couple of weeks ago, and she cleans the weeds away from the small seedlings growing around our dill weed patch.

"Pizza?" I ask.

"Sure," she cries, as Deb finishes rescuing the last nasturtium she can find.

It is close to 8:30, and I am thinking that I'll make Debbie a nasturtium salad later this summer.

Day 25, June 12, 2010

I likely have the most beautiful tomato plants in the world. I say this not because I am a self-absorbed blatherskite, rather because Farmer Brown has declared, not once, but twice, that my tomatoes are coming in quite nicely. "Nice and green, Ben." I can tell that he's not one to engage in idle endearments. When he pays me a compliment, I simply say, "Thanks," and when I get back to the field, I take note of what it is I've accomplished that has led him to praise.

Why, even on a cloudy, colorless twelfth of June, the tomatoes appear in bloom. A thousand yellow blinking buds shimmering in the gloom. The plants are climbing their stakes, and I see a long day ahead, very soon, tethering each vine with white cotton twine.

I've almost finished weeding and mulching the bush beans. As I finish each row, I step back and admire my work. It reminds me of a house renovation project, how appalling a torn up floor looks, and how the replacement brings an entire room back together. This is how it is with hay. The plants are a nice contrast with the tan carpet spread about them. The dirt and weeds are now gone, and the result is a professional row.

Of course, I didn't do it quite right. Yesterday, while visiting Old Maids Farm in South Glastonbury, I told George, the owner, that I'm not using any pesticides, and for weed control, I'm placing hay.

"More weeds!" he exclaims.

"Huh?"

"Hay is compacted weeds. Many seeds."

"Hmmm." I'm feeling like an idiot in front of this multi-generational farmer. This tall, be-denimed dude with short, thinning grey hair wields a red air hose to dust one of his bright-blue tractors.

"Should use straw. No seeds." He smiles, encourages me to consider an organic approach in my farming. I'm thinking about the hay, and am convinced that the hay will work fine for my purposes. It will block light, will prevent, or at least control weeds, and will likely hold moisture in the ground. Besides, I like the way it looks. Time will tell.

It's funny. When Deb and I arrive back at Wychwood, and when we walk into our 1/2 acre garden, I start to think about how difficult a task I have ahead of me. I need to:

• Care for, and eventually harvest, all I've planted;
• Line up suppliers for the farm stand... As this is being written, I learn that I just got a local cherry supplier!!!
• Organize the stand, including figuring out an attractive layout and signage;
• I need to make contact with a food scientist;
• Must develop a logo and packaging...
• etc., etc., etc!

Ann, Farmer Brown's wife, stops by and introduces us to her gardening buddy. We tell them about our field trip, about the impeccable farms, the newly-grafted apple trees, and the acres of bird netting protecting the precious cherries and blueberries. I think, at one point of vulnerability, I even comment on how small and insignificant I feel when I consider those big guys along the Connecticut River.

"How many generations have they been going?" Ann asks, rhetorically.

"Lyman's been at it since 1741..."

Ann smiles, as if to say, "See, you have plenty of time!" Then she laughs and declares, 'I don't know about you, but I cannot wait to eat fresh vegetables!"

Debbie has to leave early. I decide to tackle the bush beans. I also pick and poke at the corn and pumpkin areas, knowing clearly that they do not require much weeding.

In the silence of my garden, a chilly breeze takes control. Small droplets hit my straw hat as I hoe the ground before the first row of pumpkins. Holding the hoe steady, like a lacrosse stick, whacking the soil, scraping stones, and pulling back, back, back. Finding larger stones, I tip each on the hoe edge, flinging them towards one of so many rock piles.

I can feel my broad-brimmed lifeguard hat holding firmly to my head as it absorbs the rain now falling with greater urgency. Charlie Brown on the pitcher's mound in a downpour. That's what I feel like today. Everyone has gone home. I don't have the sense to come in from the rain, and even without Snoopy backstroking past the mound in the storm, all I can think is, "Good Grief!"

Day 24, June 11, 2010

Today I play hooky. Debbie wants to show me a few farms along the Central Connecticut Valley. In this area, there are generations of farming families, caretakers of some of the most productive soil there can be. Because the Connecticut River floods each year, the nutrient- rich silt that is deposited each spring, has built up topsoil depths of four feet. In places.

It's about 11:00 in the morning. I'm about to cross the the Connecticut River in Middletown, via the Arrigoni Bridge. At the time of its completion, this was the largest and most expensive bridge built in Connecticut, costing $3.5 million. As I approach a Friendly Restaurant, I see two men, a dog and a gigantic inflatable earth ball... just hiking along. They look eccentric, but harmless. I notice www.earthguy.org. I imagine it an environmental cause, and I beep approval as I continue towards the river and my farm date.

Looking south, I see that the river is murky. I finally understand, and am able to imagine how such a vast body of water is capable of moving millions of acres of fertile material. from country-to-country, state-to-state, field-to-field. I meet Debbie at a Dairy Queen in Portland.

"You want a sip?" I ask, offering her some of my frozen strawberry lemonade.

"No thanks... no sugar water for me," she says as we drive off to see some real strawberry fields.

Before we get to the actual growing places, Deb shows me a few produce stores. First we visit Gotta's Farm and Cider Mill in Portland. Jackie Gotta shows us the cider press and shares information, invites me to call her husband, Dick, when we're ready to buy produce items that we might need. Debbie tells me we need a few tomatillo plants, since tomatillos are a key component of a delicious salsa. I take a picture of her, and the four late garden entries before heading to E. Draghi & Sons in South Glastonbury.

Draghi's is another multi-generational farming institution. They have recently completed a massive retail-style greenhouse. There, we buy a muffin, look around, and move on to Carini's Berry Farm. Before Carini's, we visit Old Maid Farm. Old Maid used to produce a large quantity of organic vegetables for

Whole Foods, but has since decided to concentrate on organic poultry and eggs. For good measure, they're planting 150 acres of organic pumpkins this year. Before leaving, we visit a pen of, we believe, free range turkey poults. Two have escaped the chicken wire, and Deb and I capture them and drop them back into the

pen. These guys are soft and plush, and I cannot imagine them five months later, hardened and truculent table turks.

Carini's is a beautiful, well-organized berry paradise. We drive through a large field of blueberry plants, turn into the raspberries and blackberries, ending before a large plot of succulent strawberries. Behind us, we later learn, is a fading field of asparagus. Christine Priest tells us everything we need to know about growing and

merchandising strawberries, and her fruits are so beautiful, I'm tempted to grab several flats and open our stand a few weeks early. I think about this, especially because her raspberries are becoming ripe, and if the birds don't get them first, the blueberries will be ready, as well.

We decide to trade contact information, hold off on buying strawberries. We figure the weather will likely be miserable this weekend, and we're not ready to start selling.

I'm starting to feel overwhelmed and insignificant as I look at these operations, especially the ones I'm about to see... knowing them only by their reputations.

"Ben, these places have been running for generations," Deb says. "Lyman's since the mid 1700's. You'll get there."

Belltown Hill Orchards is a combination of compact modesty and understated grandeur. Our initial view is from the the retail store, and the vista of orchards on sweeping hills. There are acres of plantings underneath fine bird netting. Under one bird net, we find millions - literally millions - of burgundy-colored cherries. I pluck one from the tree, let it fall to the ground, grab it and sample a cherry to rival any I've ever tasted.

Deb has already explained that Connecticut was once one of the largest peach producers in America, and I am anxious to learn a similar story about cherries, and plan to call Michael at the orchard to see if we can sell his magnificent cherries before they go out of season.

We visit Lyman Orchards in Middlefield. Total Disney World, with festivals, a Robert Trent Jones Championship Golf Course, 1100 acres of reportedly eco-friendly orchard plantings. I meet one of their directors, and he couldn't be more helpful. In spite of being overwhelmed, I like this place, and I see the vision I have as doable, especially with the great work that has already been done by these amazing farming families.

Deb drops me off at DQ. Sitting next to my car, is Earth Guy, resting. He explains his cause is for Diabetes research.

We had both travelled quite a distance. Physically, and as he describes his bridge crossing, I conclude, emotionally.

Day 23, June 10, 2010

My plan today is to clean up the weeds that are steadily surrounding the Bush Beans. Armed with a hand rake, a garden hoe, a metal rake and several bales of Farmer Brown's cast-off hay, I prepare to tackle the nine rows of beans next to the pumpkin patch.

Weeding is, by far, my least favorite gardening chore. I am told that weeds will suck the nutrients away from better-bred, more desirable pedigree plants. It's mind-numbing work, and it's done on hands and knees... working with precision at the tender stems of my burgeoning beans. I cannot even drift into an inspirational reverie. Garden stones have practically penetrated both menisci. My back is sore, and the base of my neck is numb.

After about an hour, I hear a tractor approaching the barn. I walk up the hill and follow it to the house. The driver parks in an outbuilding. It's Farmer Brown. I'm surprised and elated.

"How are you doing," I ask. There is emphasis on the entire sentence.

"Well, I'm fine. What'd you expect?"

"I was worried." "Yesterday evening, there were state troopers and emergency vehicles out in front of your house. When I got home, I tried to call you..."

"Nope. I was upstairs watching the entire fiasco through the window."

"So you weren't sick. What was it?"

"Special Olympics. Torch Relay."

"That makes sense. Come to think of it, the mood outside your house seemed pretty relaxed."

"Nope. No one's going to get rid of me that easily," Farmer Brown declares.

Change subject. We've established that the rumors of Farmer Brown's demise are greatly exaggerated. "Hey, George, I think I found some good local honey for the stand."

"Oh. Where'd you find it?"

"Holmberg. Alan Holmberg."

"The orchard."

"Nope. No connection, but his packaging is professional." I explain that he's willing to place hives at Wychwood, and we'd be able to sell the honey from "our hives" with a secondary sticker declaring the fact that the honey originated at this farm. "Obviously, I want to talk with you since I cannot commit without your agreement."

Farmer Brown explains that he has a friend who keeps hives on his land, about a half mile away, and he doesn't think a few new bees would interfere on this end of the farm.

"You want to talk with him? After all, it's your land. I'm just a sharecropper."

"Sure. Why not?" I push dial, Alan answers, and I introduce him to Farmer Brown, handing the dainty Blackberry to the rugged farmer. I'm excited, all giddy inside, as I see myself putting my first "Farm Deal" together.

The two agricultural titans engage in several minutes of bee-buzz. Brown, in fact was a bee keeper for many years. To hear him tell it, he was not at all sad to give his ten hives the heave-ho!

Eventually, George hands me the phone. Alan and I speak. He's decided that it might not be a good idea to place his hives right away. Productive bees, he explains, work up to two -and-a-half-miles, and there might be a conflict with the bee keeper already at Wychwood.

Farmer Brown decides he'll speak with his friend. We both conclude that I can simply buy Alan's local honey, and start selling it at the stand immediately. When the time is right we can bring his bees to the farm.

"That young man keeps 500 hives!" Farmer Brown laughs. "He must never sleep."

Jim, the retired lineman, turned farmhand, has joined us, shoulders balanced against a support in the garage, in a comfortable rest. "Hell of a lot of bees... sounds professional," he concludes.

"Nothing wrong with professional," I add. "I'll bet we'll do fine simply selling the product. We can always break out the hives later," I conclude in my worst pun yet.

Day 22, June 9, 2010

Farmer Brown pays a compliment. "Tomatoes are looking good," he observes. I'm looking up at him, and from my vantage point a story below, he looks weary as he explains that he and his crew had put up about 450 bales of hay. He needs to make a call, and I have about fifty Cosmo plants to transplant before the rain comes.

Before I leave, I decide to tell him about the snake that slithered by, "Right here! Right where 'Im standing," I say, gesturing with my arms

and hands. I make a raking motion, for good measure... since, at the time, I'm holding a metal rake... just in case the serpent tries to squeeze me. "George, this guy was six or seven feet long. I looked him up. He's a classic example of a Black Rat Snake." I say this with the studied confidence of a veteran herpetologist.

"We just call them Black Snakes." Farmer Brown laughs, "They're all right, except when they get in your house."

"They do?"

"They can come through the stones in the foundation."

"Hmmm. When he came across the path, I just stopped... like I was at the Mystic Draw Bridge. I let him pass. Sort of felt sorry for that fat brown mouse we saw Sunday."

George nods. "He'll find that mouse. And a lot more."

I agree that my tomatoes are looking good. In fact, with the exception of a bumper crop of juvenile weeds, some garden variety pests eating a few bush beans, and a whitish schmutz on a few cucumber plant leaves, the garden is growing beautifully.

I love looking around the garden. On one level, the place is so unfinished, and so many of the things I am doing are a waste of time. They're a waste of time to the efficient farmer. But for me, they are a chance to get to know my field, to try things out.

Like building garden retaining walls.

Like using mulching hay versus black plastic sheeting.

Like placing stones and pebbles at the base of cucumber hills. My little Eddie Bauer Volcanoes.

I love this moment in my life. I love the fact that I am scared totally shitless, and yet I have no doubt. No fear. It's exhilarating, and people I haven't spoken to in years seem to be connecting, and I feel friendly again. So many who achieve commercial success, at one stage or another, become prisoners of commerce. We ignore signs and warnings that it's time to freshen up, to move on. There is only so much life we can live.

I'm committed to starting something new. The business plan is on an 8.5 x 11 typed sheet, and it keeps changing in my head. I guess it's at a scale where I can keep a tiny list of contacts, do most of the work myself, and worry about the rest as it takes off. This is the time in the life of a business that I most love.

I think this is why a garden is such a great metaphor for this stage in my life, and this start-up. It has so much to do with newness and the beauty of new plants.

Buds to blossoms.

Flowers to fruit.