Scravenging To the Finish Line
Fair warning: We have been here many times before -- the end of the season. It doesn't come suddenly, it is no surprise, but it is always kind of a shock to be done. Technically, we aren't done at all as there are still four crews set up at the markets, peddling rutabagas and butterkins and a gorgeous mix of kale varieties and purple Napa leaves that people just don't buy. But if they did they would learn immediately how delicious it is to eat a mix of greens instead of just one kind at a time. Anyway, for the last few weeks we have been diligently finishing up the work of closing down the season. There was no stress, no rushing around, not even any particularly long days. Just an organized retreat. And now we have arrived at the final weekend. In past years we haven't had such a full crew taking us all the way to the end, and we have had to go into our bench (me, Jon, Mom) but nowadays we have so many other able marketeers. Jon and I are having oat bran for breakfast while reading the paper.
It would have been so much better if there hadn't been two weeks of super freezing cold weather in early November. Then we wouldn't have had to scravenge so hard to get to this point. Yesterday we had to go back one more time into fields of leafy greens that were melted and burned by the extreme cold. I coined that word -- scravenge -- because it was like digging through the trash, almost. With a knife in one hand, you use the other hand to find the youngest, most lively leaves that have been emerging from beneath the older leaves that were damaged, and you quickly take the best part of the plant and move on. In the end, you have crates of beautiful greens but it took way too long, and you had to travel over so much ground to get it. Good thing we are done for now.
Meanwhile, we have tunnels filled with happy, growing plants that are meant for later in the winter. We planted them on time, we have done everything right, and we just have to have the discipline not to go and pick them too soon. Those are for our devoted CSA and winter market customers. We just have to hope that the voles and rabbits don't eat them to the ground before February.
To mark the moment of rest, we always have a celebration, of course. And we have come to expect that Jon will cook, now that he has so many other celebrations under his belt. He cooks for Anna's birthday, he cooks for weddings, he did a bunch of meals for the reunion. This one is easy. He gets to cook in a kitchen with electricity and plumbing, there are only about 40 guests, and he controls the menu. I still participate in the menu planning and I help round up the farm ingredients but Jon really does everything else. He expanded on a new party theme: sushi, yakisoba noodles, Asian cole slaw. Roger made his signature venison and Nina made pot stickers from scratch. It is fun for us to provide a whole meal to a community that usually gathers for potlucks. He also likes to think of something a little bit new so they feel like they are getting a treat. The menu can never have anything to do with Thanksgiving or even a harvest theme because that happens in a week. It all came out great last night. Because we don't make a better plan, I always stand up to make a brief speech about the year and how it went, how much we benefited from all the types of help we receive, and then others gradually get up to share some reflections. Afterwards, Michael said he wished that he had made a list of the order in which people get up to talk because it seems to him that the same people tend to speak in the same order, and he thinks it is a kind of a pecking order. Probably true, I hadn't really thought about it. It seemed kind of routine last night except that we had an unusual proportion of new workers this season, so many of them had never been to our annual dinner. And the thing that changes every year is the number and age of small children that are running around. There were three: Shaia, Zoey and Olivia. And they had more fun than the rest of us put together. Next year Olivia will be able to talk too and then they will be on much more even footing.
I had 45 minutes between finishing up the market prep and going to help with setting up the dining room. We haven't given bonuses of any size in about ten years, I bet, but this year it felt like the right year to do it, even if only a token amount. It's a little weird to give bonuses to some of the people in the room, in front of others who are not getting anything, but I decided to write a brief note to each of the people who actually get a paycheck (and are not in the owner/family category) and put it in a sealed envelope with the cash. This seemed less awkward. They didn't know what was in the envelope, and they could be more interested in the bottle of homemade Anna-and-Gordon jam that came with it.
So, that made everything feel more final. Now we can go back to our unhurried, unscheduled lives with occasional bursts of work. I never mind working and I always love when we get to stop. It's the best of all possible worlds, this seasonal life.
It would have been so much better if there hadn't been two weeks of super freezing cold weather in early November. Then we wouldn't have had to scravenge so hard to get to this point. Yesterday we had to go back one more time into fields of leafy greens that were melted and burned by the extreme cold. I coined that word -- scravenge -- because it was like digging through the trash, almost. With a knife in one hand, you use the other hand to find the youngest, most lively leaves that have been emerging from beneath the older leaves that were damaged, and you quickly take the best part of the plant and move on. In the end, you have crates of beautiful greens but it took way too long, and you had to travel over so much ground to get it. Good thing we are done for now.
Meanwhile, we have tunnels filled with happy, growing plants that are meant for later in the winter. We planted them on time, we have done everything right, and we just have to have the discipline not to go and pick them too soon. Those are for our devoted CSA and winter market customers. We just have to hope that the voles and rabbits don't eat them to the ground before February.
To mark the moment of rest, we always have a celebration, of course. And we have come to expect that Jon will cook, now that he has so many other celebrations under his belt. He cooks for Anna's birthday, he cooks for weddings, he did a bunch of meals for the reunion. This one is easy. He gets to cook in a kitchen with electricity and plumbing, there are only about 40 guests, and he controls the menu. I still participate in the menu planning and I help round up the farm ingredients but Jon really does everything else. He expanded on a new party theme: sushi, yakisoba noodles, Asian cole slaw. Roger made his signature venison and Nina made pot stickers from scratch. It is fun for us to provide a whole meal to a community that usually gathers for potlucks. He also likes to think of something a little bit new so they feel like they are getting a treat. The menu can never have anything to do with Thanksgiving or even a harvest theme because that happens in a week. It all came out great last night. Because we don't make a better plan, I always stand up to make a brief speech about the year and how it went, how much we benefited from all the types of help we receive, and then others gradually get up to share some reflections. Afterwards, Michael said he wished that he had made a list of the order in which people get up to talk because it seems to him that the same people tend to speak in the same order, and he thinks it is a kind of a pecking order. Probably true, I hadn't really thought about it. It seemed kind of routine last night except that we had an unusual proportion of new workers this season, so many of them had never been to our annual dinner. And the thing that changes every year is the number and age of small children that are running around. There were three: Shaia, Zoey and Olivia. And they had more fun than the rest of us put together. Next year Olivia will be able to talk too and then they will be on much more even footing.
I had 45 minutes between finishing up the market prep and going to help with setting up the dining room. We haven't given bonuses of any size in about ten years, I bet, but this year it felt like the right year to do it, even if only a token amount. It's a little weird to give bonuses to some of the people in the room, in front of others who are not getting anything, but I decided to write a brief note to each of the people who actually get a paycheck (and are not in the owner/family category) and put it in a sealed envelope with the cash. This seemed less awkward. They didn't know what was in the envelope, and they could be more interested in the bottle of homemade Anna-and-Gordon jam that came with it.
So, that made everything feel more final. Now we can go back to our unhurried, unscheduled lives with occasional bursts of work. I never mind working and I always love when we get to stop. It's the best of all possible worlds, this seasonal life.
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