Day 108, September 3, 2010

They say, "Red sky at night, sailor's delight, and red sky at morning, sailors take warning." There is certainly an eerily still sky of blotchy red this morn. Once again, though, I believe that this will have been a hurricane largely sponsored by Home Depot and WCBS 880 News Radio.

It's been nearly 30 years, actually a quarter-century, since Hurricane Gloria... She was a mid-morning hurricane, not terribly powerful, more of a spectator storm. At least in Noank, Connecticut. At the beginning, folks quaffed one bloody mary after another, and donned foul weather gear. We toured the village and the boat yards. Heartier fools, including I, shambled out on the docks at the shipyard. I played seagull, leaning into the wind, and it almost held me up. I decided that there wasn't much of a lifeline for me, 100 yards out on a rickety dock, the Mystic River boiling below, and so I retreated. As I did, I could hear a ghostly rattling, a warbling sound. I watched my brother-in-law as he ran screaming from the storm, followed by what seemed to be a 30 x 10-foot sheet of corrugated metal roofing. As it wobbled, it lifted, like a kite, and it took flight. This was the same kind of sharp metal material that killed a news reporter, years later, during the opening sequence of "The Day After Tomorrow."

Gloria blew about 85 mph, so I am glad that we're likely in for a "tropical treat" today. Sure, I have my Briggs & Stratton generator in the back of the truck, a couple of flash lights, but we do not need a hurricane. I've been to one hurricane, and five days without power is plenty.

As part of my preparations, I pulled as many tomatoes as I could. The cucumbers are finished, as are the beans, and I got about a bushel of each. The cantaloupes are just about done, too, and so it is all about pumpkins and a diminishing tomato crop. The bees are fighting harder for the remaining pollen, and I am noticing a stronger presence of slugs and tomato worms. The worms are really amusing. Normally, they work on one fruit, leaving the rest for me. Recently, though, I met up with one who sampled a whole cluster... like a raccoon in a lobster tank!

I heard Farmer Brown drive in in his utility cart. He has a large generator which he runs off of a tractor. "Water's important around here, and it takes quite a kick to start the well pump," he explains.

"How are the turkeys?" I ask.

"They're fine," he tells me. "Had to change feed... that's a big deal, but they seem fine." He explains that he goes through thousands of pounds of feed, that it takes several pounds to grow a turkey one pound. I think he said three pounds, but it might be six. In the end, it's all about oil and gasoline. The production of ethanol has made it nearly impossible for small farmers to buy corn-based feeds. Too much money to be made feeding the fuel supply.

We talk a bit, and he's thinking about where to store the hay wagons, how to secure the barn. I go back to my field, pick the last of the beans... the ones that remain are going to seed, and the pods are soft.

I realize the season is coming to an end. I need to expand my thinking about what I can do with my farming experience. I know there is a movement afoot that is creating opportunity to do some good, and so I am excited, and anxious to find people to help. I do not believe that everyone has become so jaded and cynical that original thinking is gone with our nation's innocence.

There are pockets of opportunity. I just need to pick one.

But right now, guess I need to finish preparing for the storm.

Coffee?