by Eric Izzo, Assistant Farm Manager
I know we are far away from Thanksgiving, but today I want to write about four things which make me feel thankful.
Let’s start with something you’d expect a farmer to complain about: the weather. Of my five years of farming, this has felt like the best spring. Prior to this current heat wave, it actually felt like a proper spring. Not too hot, not too cool. I could get used to this, and the plants seem to be quite happy too. Temperature is one thing; rain is another. My first four years of farming felt like it was either extremely dry or extremely wet. For the past month or so, it has rained every few days, just enough to water the plants while still allowing periods in between to do fieldwork. Please knock on wood at this moment, because I know how quickly that can change. For now, though, many of our spring and summer crops have gotten a good start.
Next, I’d like to talk about the farm property. This farm is different from many others. It is not planted fencerow to fencerow; there is a lot of “edge” habitat. Edge habitat is not planted in vegetable crops; it can be wild trees, perennials, grasses, etc. The important thing about it is unlike our vegetable beds, the edge spots on the property are diverse. I’m not going to try and preach about biodiversity. It’s one of those things you hear about, but seeing is always more powerful.
For me, I’ve had many moments here where I look at a particular pest as a problem. Just today on my field walk, I had the urge to reach down and squish as many potato
beetles as I could see while they slowly defoliated our potato plants. Why did I resist that urge? First off, I like to be sane. And on a Sunday, squishing hundreds to thousands of potato beetles by myself doesn’t seem sane. But something which also helps immensely is sights like these: A vivid memory from last year was seeing a soldier beetle actively carrying a large potato beetle to eventually eat. Not that I enjoy watching things like that, but it was nature working. That’s the original system of checks and balances. As I write this, I’m confident there are some rabbits back in our lettuce field eating some romaine and butterhead. I’m also confident they won’t venture too far into the fields, for the coyotes, hawks, and owls who feel comfortable on our property will make them think twice. If you have the opportunity, try to foster an abundance of life on your property, and I 
believe that will continue to foster life moving forward versus giving into the scarcity mindset.
If you’re every having trouble escaping the scarcity mindset, I’d encourage you to stand under a mulberry tree. I’ve done this many times, but feeling the sheer abundance of this tree never gets old. The mulberry, along with juneberries and strawberries, have fed me my first berries of the season. I’ve heard many times people say they can’t get the
juneberries before the birds do. Maybe if you slept through the month of June, I could see that. But if you wake each day in June, you’ll have no problem collecting enough Juneberries. It’s becoming an annual tradition for the farm crew to make the walk along Knoch Knolls Road and pick Juneberries during this time of the year. We eat them right along with the birds; they get the high ones, we get the low ones.
Other than ripening fruits, one sign of summer approaching is interns on the farm. Throughout my years, we’ve had interns in high school and college work here. Some get the internship through school, through a grant, through a church, or they just know someone who works here. Whatever the case may be, I love having interns here. Of all the seeds I have sown, none feel more important (proverbially, of course) than the ones I’ve hopefully sown with our interns. It’s not about them all becoming farmers; it’s about sharing this work which does for us something beyond words. Whether for a lifetime or for just a summer, I feel most thankful to be able to share this experience with kids still trying to find their path.
Happy Summer, and Happy berry picking! Go get your hands stained purple. It will come out. I promise. And then you’ll look forward to doing it all again next year.
Farmer Eric
