Traced Elements

Category: farm story

Farm Story: The Biodynamic Ice-Break

Would you mind if we talked about Biodynamic farming?

There. That’s how you keep your readership small. Those of you still with me have fought through eye-glaze and eye-roll and have resisted page turn. You will notice that even I am struggling a bit to stay on topic, and if only you could see the amount of squirming and fidgeting I am doing as I try to find the right way to write about one of the more under-simplified and over-complicated farming methods of our time.

There is no way around this fact: Biodynamic farming methods involve focussing the power and influence of the entire universe on the health and productivity of the soil, plant, farmer and consumer. The sun, the planets, the galaxies beyond ours: they all matter. The position of the moon matters. It’s complicated. It’s off-putting.

And yet, quite simply, it works whether you understand why or not. In fact, the less time sorting that out, the more time there will be for actual work and that is what really matters.

We do need to talk about it, though. Biodynamics is an approach to farming that combines science, philosophy and common sense and it should not be avoided. Something like this could easily become the future of farming.

You should know that it is a popular farming method in Germany, which has the highest concentration of scientific-minded farmers in the world, a fact I completely fabricated but which I believe could be used for emphasis without harm. I have (in actual fact) heard German farmers speak in excruciating scientific detail about soil science and crop management and then mention in a self-consciously off-hand manner that they also use Biodynamic preparations. Pressed further, they become extremely and remarkably vague about the details. I find this fascinating: farmers like that would not waste their time with something that wasn’t working.

Our farm has been Biodynamic in practice and often certificate since the mid-nineties when my parents attended a conference on the subject and were impressed with the practical experience of the speakers. We have slowly incorporated some methods into our farming practices- and avoided talking about it as we really don’t understand it well enough to explain.

Photo courtesy MC Bourgie

To be honest, I really have not been paying much attention to the whole thing, content to let my parents and sister tell me what to do. It seemed more important to learn things like welding, mechanics and fertility-building cover-crop management. Although I have certainly not mastered any of that, I have gradually pushed Biodynamics up higher on the “things-to-learn-that-will-probably-be-helpful” list.

Some Biodynamic practices have been incorporated thoroughly into our farm routine. Mom’s Biodynamic compost heaps, for example, could probably turn old cars into nice, rich, loamy soil. Tree branches certainly presented no difficulty. I follow her directions to build the heap, and I add the preparations (yarrow, chamomile, nettle, oak bark, dandelion, valerian) and marvel at the result a few months hence. It seems like magic, but really it isn’t.

My sister annually buries cow horns stuffed with manure and that becomes the preparation we apply to the carrot field every year. It’s very simple: if we do it, we get great carrots. If we don’t, they are normal.

My mom boils it all down quite nicely: it is a fun way to farm.

Our Biodynamic practice does not extend far beyond this. It really should, or at least could. It is time to experiment with a few more methods, acquire some knowledge, become conversant. Most of all, I want to write about it in a way that can be easily understood. Is that possible? Can we keep it fun?

Photo: MC Bourgie

I am starting at a very, very basic level of celestial understanding. This point cannot be over-emphasized. I cannot even tell you for certain what my birth sign of the zodiac is. I just never found it important. In terms of blind faith however, I am on more solid ground. I can “witch” water wells, for example, and fully support the protection of random wild areas on our farm because grandma said there were a lot of fairies living there. I guess the fact that I now believe with absolute certainty that it is quite likely that plant health is influenced not only by the phases and position of the moon but the universe beyond isn’t such a stretch after-all. You commoners will have to struggle to keep up.

My first self-assigned task has been to read the original lectures, delivered in 1924 at a German agricultural convention by Rudolph Steiner, a philosopher with a practical bent who is also known for starting the Waldorf school system. This I am doing until the snow melts and I don’t have time for reading anymore. Looks like I might be able to make it through the whole works.

Contained in a book called Agriculture, the lectures were commissioned by a group of farmers who had recently begun to use chemical fertilizers. Although the yields of certain cash crops were reaching unheard-of levels, they noted a significant decline in the health of their soils, and the overall productivity of their farms. Alarmingly, they could no longer produce very much at all without the use of the new chemicals.

So far, for about 95% of what I have read, I have not a clue what he is talking about. Every once in a while, however, he talks about potatoes, and I certainly know what they are. They are the hook that keeps me focussed. I keep reading, hoping he will mention them again.

Another point of light is his reasoning for considering the universe in the first place. You can’t describe a person based on the last joint of their little finger, nor describe a farm using one plant in the far corner, but they are strongly related to the whole. If we allow for the possibility that we are the little joint of the little finger of the universe, if becomes obvious that there is a lot going on that matters to us.

We are part of something much bigger.

Stay tuned for the next exciting installment. I am going to be building compost heaps and seeding celeriac at a time suggested by the Biodynamic Calendar: the sun will be in Pisces and the moon in Virgo. I don’t know what this means but hopefully the plants can sort it out.

Anna Helmer farms potatoes in the Pemberton Valley with her family and friends who know she can cook if she must.

March 11, 2019
Courting Wonder

On my desk right now is a gorgeous little collection of essays called Wonder and Other Survival Skills, put together by the editors of Orion magazine. On its cover, a young girl presses her hand against the surface of a lake: skin of girl meeting skin of lake. From this meeting, a ripple moves.

“Is wonder a survival skill?” H. Emerson Blake asks in the foreword. “The din of modern life pulls our attention away from anything that is slight, or subtle, or ephemeral. We might look briefly at a slant of light in the sky while walking through a parking lot, but then we’re on to the next thing: the next appointment, the next flickering headline, the next task…Maybe it’s just for that reason—how busy we are and distracted and disconnected we are—that wonder really is a survival skill. It might be the thing that reminds us of what really matters, and of the greater systems that our lives are completely dependant on. It might be the thing that helps us build an emotional connection—an intimacy—with our surroundings that, in turn, would make us want to do anything we can to protect them.”

By my own definition, wonder is the ability to travel beyond attention, beyond mindfulness–to truly make an encounter with the world in a way that, for the slenderest of moments, lifts us out of ourselves and returns us back with something more. Something of the ‘other’ we’ve encountered travels with us. A little of the world comes into the interiority of us and lodges there. Permeates.

Winter is a season of rest for most of us land-based folks. A season of living in a place of dreams and visioning (literally, as we get caught up on sleep, and plan for the year ahead.) This is the first season I’ve stopped teaching completely. I felt the need to let the work do a deep dive into silence, and (beyond the day-to-day chores of keeping animals, which never go away), to truly let myself drop out of time. I sleep when I’m tired. I wake up when I wake up. I have breakfast and a cup of coffee, before I go out to do chores. Which sometimes makes me feel like a slacker, but it also feels… luxurious. Luxurious in a simple way I haven’t allowed into my life before. A spaciousness that holds its own kind of wonder.

The other reason I decided to stop teaching completely once the snow hit in December, was I wanted my horses to feel like they belonged to me again. 2018 was our busiest year teaching together (THANK YOU, PEMBERTON!) but I wanted a chance to ride when I wanted to again, instead of working a horse so they would be ready to say ‘yes’ to a student. I wanted to WANT to ride again. To wander about aimlessly bareback with nothing but a lead rope joining me to my horse’s mind. I wanted the horses to be able to choose who came out to play with me, whenever I showed up at the gate with a halter or a bridle.

What’s emerged out of this unravelling is that I was finally able to back Besa, my big paint/Friesian mare. When she came to me 18 months ago, she was an untrained 6-year-old, freshly weaned from being a mamma to a feisty filly. She made it very clear to me- in her lack of desire to be caught and her extreme reactivity, power and athleticism- that I’d have to take my time with her. Given space and the permission to approach me (instead of me expecting to approach her and do what I wanted), she decided that humans were worth being curious about. Her curiosity flowered into full-blown affection. She’s the first horse to come to anyone out of the field now, and she sometimes chooses to pull me (or whoever I’m accompanying into the field) in against her chest with her muzzle, the closest a horse can come to giving a hug.

Besa’s been asking me to do things with her for months (Proper things! With a bridle and tack like all the other horses!) and all summer and fall I just didn’t have the capacity. But these last few weeks I’ve slipped onto her back and let her carry me around our little maze of snow paths in a mutual exchange of trust: I will trust you with my body, if you will trust me with your body. The ‘training’ part of it can come later. For now, all I want is her to turn her head to me, so she can look at me fully out of her huge dark eye: Oh. So now you’re up there now. So that she can yawn and snort and let all the tension go out of her nervous system, and get used to this strange new way that horses and humans can be together.

Perhaps it’s me she’s been waiting for all along. Perhaps I needed to drop into this spaciousness for us to find this way to trust each other.

There’s one essay that stands out for me in this slim little collection that sits on my desk. It’s Chris Dombrowski’s Kana: a father grasps at the nature of wonder. In it, he defines Kana as “a word or figure the Japanese haiku poets used as a kind of wonder-inducing syllable (it translates loosely into English as an exclamation point.)… that heart-stutter we receive when an image of the world takes root in us…”

His essay shares the spell of a day spent morel hunting with his twenty month old son. The way the boy wanders across the face of the burn, trailing a whitetail’s antler behind him, carelessly decapitating the very mushrooms he’s hunting for:

…he is either in a daze of boredom or he is walking kana, penetrated each step by the world, not penetrating it. It’s tempting to call this spirit naïveté, but it’s not: it’s wisdom we lose along the way.”

Perhaps that’s what I’ve been courting this winter: wisdom I’ve lost along the way as I’ve been coerced into ascribing to linear time, to capitalism, to the many demands the constructs of being human impose upon us. There is gentleness here, in this wonder, that doesn’t feel rushed or imposed. A hand resting against the surface of a lake.

I’ve wanted to broaden the scope of my horse and nature based teaching practice to include workshops for adults since I started Mountain Horse School in 2012, but I’ve shied away for a long time. I’ve always felt comfortable with kids because they’re so immediate, so open still to this touch of the world upon them. Grown-ups’ responses are layered. More conditioned. We need more language to access understanding, and experiences that can operate like keys opening the locks of ways of perceiving we’ve long put away. Grown-ups want reasons to pacify our rational, linear ways of thinking, and we want to know if playing with opening the doors to wonder, if walking Kana is ‘worth the investment’ of our time. We’ve become used to being sold meditation through a list of its benefits. A walk in the woods has become a thing we could pay for. Forest bathing, it’s called in the brochures.

What if wonder is the gateway to possibility? What if it’s the only skill that will give us the tools, insight, and power we need to move into (here I am, throwing another book title at you!) The More Beautiful World That our Hearts Know is Possible? What if the benefits of wonder—similar to its more lauded cousin, gratitude—might be the resurrection of a life woven into belonging with the wider world that sustains us?

Small watercolour of a whale’s ear bone from the intergalactic spaceship that is my desk. Because of the complexity of their hearing, whales’ inner ear bones are contained within a separate chamber, not encased inside the skull as ours are. It amazes me how much this bone looks like a shell. If I held it to my ear, would I hear the sound of the sea?

It’s not up to me to answer these questions. I can only speak from the lens of my own experience, my own perceptions. In lieu of that, I can say with certainty that this winter’s dreaming I’ve been luxuriating in, this kana I’ve been walking in my own life, feels absolutely essential to the future that comes next. I can say—if I may speak with authority based on the way things feel from the intergalactic spaceship that is my writing desk this afternoon—that it HAS been absolutely necessary. That nothing is currently more important. Oh, the great irony that ‘doing the work’ this winter has actually meant ‘doing less work—!’ (Is that an exclamation mark or is it kana? You decide.)

So, in the spirit of wonder being the gateway to possibility, I’m issuing a little dare to myself. Actually, it’s not little at all. On Feb 17, I’m offering a one day workshop called Lightning Seeds: Opening the Gateway of what’s Possible, in collaboration with my dear friend, animal listener and translator Guliz Unlu. Come play with us as we walk kana in the company of the horses and other animals at Mountain Horse School, and court wonder through a combination of equine guided learning, animal communication, intuitive herbalism, earth wisdom, and soul craft. Curious to know more? Please visit our website or facebook page for all the juicy details!

January 29, 2019
Winter Farming ?

What do Canadian farmers do in the winter? The smart, financially stable “Snow Birds” follow the geese south. Most farmers are less fortunate and have to somehow find a way to make an income and pay the never-ending bills. I’ve heard tales of a few hardy souls eking out some form of a living on Vancouver Island selling their meat products, storage vegetables, and winter greens. For 99% of the rest of the country they are mostly shut down for many months. Sure there’s fences that may need mending, chickens to feed, and things to preserve. These chores however don’t bring home the bacon. (Hopefully their freezers are already stocked with protein). Self-employed farmers don’t qualify for EI, so most need some side seasonal jobs.

I’m one of the lucky ones who get to farm in the snow. I’m a groomer. My Pisten Bully Snow Cat is one of the warmest, most comfortable, sophisticated state of the art tractors in the world.When it breaks, I get to grab another machine and a team of mechanics usually have it up and running the next day.

We as a crew plough and till over 500 acres of terrain per mountain each night. What, when and how we accomplish this is very weather dictated.

Our tractors’ accessories are referred to as implements. The blade is our shovel. The combing on the tiller is our rake. We use farming terms such as passes, windrows, berms, deposition, compaction, cut and fill. We farm snow — that’s what we call it — from the bottom of pitches, hollows, roads, snow fences and secret stashes and transport it to where it is needed. We sculpt and landscape the mountain, combining science and art. Anyone who does both mountain biking and winter sports will attest that snow is so much cleaner and softer than dirt. Grooming is a cushier, enjoyable, better compensated and less risky form of farming.

Grooming shares lots of prerequisites with conventional farming. First of all you must be mechanically inclined, tolerate the smell of diesel, and be adaptable to changing weather conditions. It involves long hours of unsupervised solitary repetitive work. The thing I appreciate the most is the knowledge and intimacy with the natural environment that is aquirired over the long term. The sense of freedom.The privilege of getting to create something within nature using my own poetic licence. It puts me in the same semi-spiritual yet productive happy place that farming does. The greatest part of the great outdoors. Understanding microclimates, the effects of wind, sun, temperature and precipitation. The technicalities of snow vs dirt, mountains vs valley. The feeling of connectedness with my surroundings. It’s a perfect fit for both a farmer and a ski bum. I have the inside scoop on the best forecasted snow conditions in real time for every area on the slopes. In the spring I’m double dipping. I can experience my farm in full bloom, and get chores done during the day and extend my winter at night, or ski whenever its good. Bliss.

Being a “packer” is a lifestyle more than a job.We could all make a better wage running machinery in an industrial setting. Nonetheless there is little turnover and the majority return year after year all for similar reasons. I’ve seen more winter sunrises and sunsets than most temperate rainforest mountain dwellers. My office has a constantly changing and usually spectacular view. I get 3 days off a week, can ski any afternoon and it allows me the opportunity to be a dirt farmer for 7 months. I can save a little money for the lean spring when expenses far exceed income. For half the year I get to enjoy benefits that other farmers could only dream of: a family (lifetime) Epic ski pass, extended medical and dental, short and long term disability, a small RRSP contribution as well as food and retail discounts. If I get injured or sick on or off the job in the winter I’m covered. If it happens from May to November, I’m screwed. If it wasn’t for my grooming job, I don’t think I could afford to be a farmer. Thank you ULLR (the norse God of snow) and Whistler/Blackcomb for 27 years of employment. Time flies when you’re having fun.

December 6, 2018
Space Saving Sauerkraut
I live in a barn. Between the barn and my little house is a mud room. It’s a liminal place: half barn, half house. These days, it’s where I keep all my tack, tools, and wild/crafting materials for the camps that I run. The counter is generally littered with things that need to be put away. Like that unidentified bracket fungi that smells like apricots… and the bags of sand and gravel from October’s Fairy Gardens.

Because I keep it at about ten degrees all winter (to keep the various stored items happy and the pipes from freezing) the mud room is also where I throw all the veggies I pull out of the garden and procrastinate about dealing with. One morning a few weeks (when I had to remove 6 large pumpkins from the top of the washing machine so I could do a load of laundry) I realized things were out of hand. The pumpkins were still too intimidating. I couldn’t quite look them in the eye. Plus they were in great shape so there was no need to rush processing them. The cabbages on the other hand… and the bowl filled with unwashed root veggies… oh dear. Definitely starting to go. I cut away the rotting bits from the cabbages, washed the salvageable carrots and beets, and then did the only responsible thing: I made Kraut.

Sauerkraut is the best way to make a large volume of cabbage store in as small a space as possible. The lactic acid fermentation process loads it with helpful wild gut bacteria, boosts its nutritional value, and enables us to store it for a long time. It also makes a boring vegetable delicious. ‘Kraut- while traditionally just cabbage, salt and water- is also flexible and can accommodate the addition of a wide variety of veggies and flavours. For mine, I used the 3 small heads of cabbage, two handfuls of carrots and beets, kale stalks and leaves from Four Beat Farm, and two wild apples that I picked on the way home from Clinton last summer. For flavour, I added a small thumb of ginger, a handful of dried Saskatoon Berries, and five Juniper Berries.

Kraut-to-be: here you can see the texture and flavourings before salt is added

Directions:
First, shred or chop your cabbage. If you are going to play with adding other veggies, make sure you keep about 75% cabbage to make sure achieve a good lactic acid ferment. You add use almost anything you can think of to flavour your ‘Kraut. Caraway seeds. Black peppercorns. Seaweed. Dried fruit. Spruce tips. Citrus zest.

Add salt, and mix/rub it well into the veggies with your hands. You want to macerate your cabbage, as you want the salt to break down the cell walls and begin to release water. How much salt should you add? Well… more than you think you should. The salt acts as a preservative, and will help your ‘Kraut keep its texture so it doesn’t ferment down into a goopy mess. Taste your cabbage/veggie mix. It should taste quite salty. As you rub them, the veggies should start to shine a little bit, as well as moisten and soften.
Pack your crock! I use a small pottery crock I found at a thrift store. You can also pack your ‘Kraut into a large mouth Mason Jar. You can use utensils for this, but I prefer to use my fist. It’s fun to punch your food, and you can put more pressure on the ‘Kraut. You want to REALLY mash it down so that all the air pockets are squished out and it starts to release water. Add more handfuls of cabbage/veggies, and press down. Continue in this way until all your Kraut-to-be is in the crock. You should have enough water that’s been released at this point that it covers the top of the ‘Kraut when you apply pressure.
Because you can’t stand there squishing it forever, you need to add weight to the top off your ‘Kraut. The ‘Kraut needs to stay submerged in its own juices so that it doesn’t mould as it ferments. (Fermentation=good, mould=bad.) I use a large class coaster that’s a little smaller than the diameter of my crock, topped with a Mason Jar. You can also use rocks as weights, provided they’re clean! Then you can cover the top of your crock with cheesecloth or a dishtowel to keep out dust and mould spores but still let it breathe, which is essential for the Lactic Acid fermentation process. If you don’t have enough juice that’s been released from the veggies to keep your ‘Kraut submerged, you can top it up with a little water or brine.
The crock and (and accompanying Mason Jar of water that acts as a weight to keep the Kraut submerged)
Wait and taste! How long it takes your ‘Kraut to be done depends on how warm your environment is, and how tangy you like your ‘Kraut. The usual window is one to four weeks. The longer you let the fermentation go, the stronger the flavour will be, and the more beneficial bacteria you will cultivate. However, the longer you wait the softer your veggies become. If you keep tasting the ‘Kraut as it progresses, then you will be able to stop the fermentation it when it reaches your favourite balance of flavour and texture.
When you’re smitten with your ‘Kraut, take it out of the crock and compost any bits with surface mould. (Sometimes a little ‘Kraut will stick to the sides of the crock and turn white and fuzzy, but the rest of the batch that is still submerged will be fine). I pack mine into clean half pint jars and keep them in the fridge. This stops the fermentation process, but does not kill any of the lactic acid and other goodness.
Enjoy! Yum. Cleaning up and making more space was never so delicious…
November 24, 2018
An Ode to Shovels and Rakes

These two unassuming primitive implements no doubt helped propel humankind from hunter-gatherer to agrarian in some sticks-and-stones fashion long before the Iron Age. As I will describe, my very being is also “owed” to these simple tools, so I thought I’d write an “ode” to them.

A rake and a shovel
Will cause you no trouble,
They don’t have a moving part.
It may seem a bore,
But it will strengthen your core,
It’s even good for your heart.
With a dig and a pull,
It will get the job done,
With the right attitude,
It might even seem fun.
If the handle should break,
It’s easy to replace,
You just need a long wooden stick.
For a shovel and a rake,
Is all you need to do the trick.

“Shovels and Rakes” was the name of my very first landscaping venture over 35 years ago. I got the idea from Arlo Guthrie’s infamous song Alice’s Restaurant where he “loaded up the red VW microbus with shovels and rakes and implements of destruction”. In retrospect, it was also fitting – they were the only tools I could afford at the time. My only power tool was my parents’ lawnmower.

My wife calls me her “digger boy” because in some strange way I enjoy shovelling and raking. There’s a quiet, zen-like, methodical motion to it that I find comforting. And it’s good exercise.

In the construction field, the shovel and rake are unaffectionately known as a D1 and D2. The D8-9-10 are large bulldozers. Being a machine operator, I love big equipment, especially if it belongs to someone else. On a landscaping job site, time is money and it belongs to the client. Machinery is needed for efficiency and to be competitive. Conversely, on the farm time is… well, simply your time. I prefer to spend it quietly with good old fashioned hand tools if I can.

At one point, I had a fair amount of machinery. A tractor and hoe, rototillers, blowers, compactors etc. These things are expensive, require fuel, maintenance, repairs, storage and they don’t last forever. For the few times a year I needed them, it made sense to eventually do away with owning them and just lease the right tool for the right job. This type of overhead is justifiable for a landscaping business but is a killer for small scale farmers. A blown motor or transmission could exceed your profit margin for a season.

We are trying to have less of an environmental footprint. I would rather use my own human-powered energy, to become more sustainable, more connected to the earth and stay in shape while breathing fresh air as opposed to exhaust fumes.We are starting to practise “no till ” methods, we’re mulching more and instead of blowing leaves,we simply rake them onto a tarp. I rarely miss my machines.

If I was on one of those survivor type reality shows, and could only have a single tool it would be a flat spade. This versatile tool is not only a shovel – it can cut, level, edge and scrape. My favourite tool is the wide aluminum landscaping rake.You see, after over 25 years of snow grooming, I’m obsessed with having perfectly level and impeccably combed garden beds. With these tools I can buff out the soil, to a standard that a ski instructor would appreciate. It’s in my DNA. I just can’t help it.

November 19, 2018
Squamish Farmers Strip Down For Fundraising Calendar

Squamish CAN (Climate Action Network) has launched an Indiegogo calendar fundraising campaign featuring nude Squamish farmers in hopes of raising money for a community farm.

Jordie and Steph from Solscapes pose in one of their client’s edible gardens.

The group has been running community and school gardens over the past several years, and have been identifying ways to strengthen the local food system through consultations with farmers and other stakeholders in the food industry. Their community farm project aims to engage youth, attract new farmers to Squamish, and support established farmers while preserving agricultural land. They rallied local farmers to strip down for the cause, and most were willing to go along with it.

Calendar coordinator and Squamish CAN president, Michalina Hunter, was inspired by a past calendar she purchased in 2015. “The nude farming calendar I bought on Indiegogo raised $35,000 for two women to put a downpayment on farm property. I thought it was such a great idea. How amazing would it be if we could raise that much for our organization? We finally decided to go for it this year. We have incredible farmers in Squamish. I hope the idea is just cheeky enough to be successful!”

Michalina and Darwyn of Green Bee Honey–probably the most dangerous photoshoot of them all given the flying stinging insects everywhere…

There are other models of community farms and similar projects nearby. The group toured and learned about the Tsawassen Farm School, Glorious Organics (Aldergrove), Richmond Schoolyard, Fresh Roots Urban Farm (Vancouver), Amlec Organic Limited (Lillooet), Farm Folk City Folk (Vancouver), and others to design the project.

“We’re not the first community to do this,” says Hunter, “We’re really excited about the potential of creating multiple win-wins with this project. It can engage youth in growing food and learning employable skills, it can support new farmers in finding land, it can create shared sales opportunities for established farmers, and it can engage the community in sustainable agriculture. We envision a central educational market garden for us to work on, and then several 1/4 acre to 1 acre plots for new farmers to lease. There will be shared tools, equipment, wash stations, and storage for all the farmers to share. The community farm is really a jumping off point that can support so many other community initiatives.”

Dorte and Thor from the Brackendale Art Gallery.

Squamish used to be a prosperous agricultural community, growing primarily hops, hay, and potatoes. In fact, hop farming was Squamish’s first major industry. Much of the fertile valley-bottom land has since been paved and built on. Only 2% of Squamish’s remaining usable farmland is currently used for agriculture, yet skyrocketing land prices make it cost-prohibitive for new farmers to get into the industry. Leasing land, on the other hand, has less financial risk, and can allow new farmers to get into the industry, hone their skills, and build credit.

Tracy of Stony Mountain Farm. The pigs were wary about the apples once they were covered in bubble bath, but of course being pigs they ate them anyway.

The group envisions starting small with the community farm, then adding components over the years such as a Food Hub, community garden, covered workshop space, and food forest. They have not solidified a location for the community farm, but are exploring different options. Ideally they would own the piece of land, but a long term lease or memorandum of understanding would also suffice.

Sneak peek of the calendar and ordering options here!

Perhaps a Squamish-Lillooet Farming Calendar is on the horizon for next year!

October 25, 2018
Our 2018 Farming Season in a Nutshell: Part 3 (Late summer/Fall)

After Juneuary, (see part 2), July’s weather was seasonably normal, but it was too-little-too-late for many of our flowers and for our heat-loving crops, like the tomatoes, eggplants and peppers.

We were 6 weeks behind and many things needed 6 more weeks to mature.

Luckily , over the years we have planted and divided many perennials to fill in the gaps as we waited for our annuals to bloom. We combined these with some natural wildflowers, like tansy, goldenrod and lupines, and were able to put together some nice bouquets for our regular customers.

We had intended to expand our flower market, but with limited supply, that was out of the question this year. We had planted over 200 dahlia tubers and patiently waited for them to bloom. And bloom they did!

Due to the weather, our season had become compressed.

Plants have only goal in life – to reproduce. They bud, flower, fruit and go to seed, accomplishing this in whatever time frame is offered.

Our gardens, just like wildflowers in the alpine, bloomed all at once, through necessity. So instead of having a staggered harvest, our cherries, berries, veggies, and flowers all needed attention at the same time. Hectic, to say the least.

Our garlic and fruit crops, a couple weeks late due to weather, were steadily approaching and we couldn’t keep up with everything else. We did what all farmers do when push comes to shove – we worked our asses off from dawn to dusk. Now we had fresh products for our markets, which of course is another job in itself. Our colorful stand attracted customers like butterflies. Finally we had a decent income stream, even though we had been at it for several months.

Garlic, being our cash crop, is also our most labour intensive one. Every year, for the last few, we’ve expanded our volume by about 2000 bulbs. We were up to over 12,000 last year. Harvesting, sorting, cleaning and curing, usually takes about 6 weeks, with extra help, at a steady pace.

Pulling it up can turn into panic if there’s a forecast for rain. After 2-3 days in wet soil ripe garlic skins decompose, leaving split bulbs which store poorly and affect marketability.

Murphy’s law of course, proved correct – it rained heavily mid-harvest. As we frantically pulled the crop out of the soggy ground, we luckily found most of them still intact. Good. Most however were significantly smaller than usual. I did everything I normally did at all stages with respect to mulching, weeding and fertilizing, and everything looked great above ground. Unfortunately, being a root crop, it’s what’s happening below the soil that matters. I had planted them in a new site that was south facing, but obscured by tall trees to the east and west, resulting in shady mornings and early evenings. This combined with a cool spring must have been the problem. Garlic prefers warm soil to bulb. This size difference didn’t affect quality but drastically reduced yields, yet it was still the same amount of work.

My biggest concern now is that I won’t have enough seed-grade-sized garlic to replant for myself, let alone sell to other growers.

I am ironically currently trying to purchase some more.

I haven’t done the calculations yet, but we will definitely have a smaller crop to plant.

After the garlic harvest we immediately proceeded to fruit harvesting. This year we picked most of it in the rain, as we finished off the summer months with the worst September I can remember. It poured rain for 5 out of 6 of our most important market weekends from Labour Day to Thanksgiving. This not only affected sales but also our motivation. Again, we put on a brave face, brightened some people’s day with lovely flowers and pretended farming is always great.

If our season comes across as all doom and gloom, that’s not the whole picture. We had quite a few successes. Our huge dahlia patch was a field of dreams with massive blossoms over our heads. We had a bumper crop of berries, which kept our daughter, our highball picker, busy. Apples and pears did really well and made up for the less than average cherries and plums. Our value-added garlic products, such as powders, are a huge hit.

Should we measure our season by the weather, how some plants did or from our bottom line? Absolutely not! Any farmers who view their business this way, would soon admit defeat and quit. We are pleased to have a freezer full of meat to eat and trade with, and enough frozen, dried and juiced fruit to last the winter. We have enough tomatoes , onions and peppers to keep us in pasta sauce for a long while. We have just enough savings to take a short holiday before the snow flies. Success in my books.

I had to summarize our seven month season into three parts because this chosen profession is so involved and variable. Did I cover everything? Not even close! We have two orchards with dozens of trees and huge berry patches that need pruning and spraying, (organic methods of course), then picking and storing. Regular yard work and landscaping for 6 acres. Composting and amending soil. Tool and machine maintenance. Clearing, brushing, burning and firewood. Irrigation, weeding and succession planting. Renos and maintenance of our large house and outbuildings. Fencing, building a chicken coop and hoop houses. Daily chores such as taking care of 20 layers and 200 meat birds not to mention, slaughtering, butchering and processing them (not fun). On top of all that, there are the indoor jobs I loathe the most such as marketing, book keeping, ordering supplies, and other paperwork.

Now, before I think of anything else I’ve missed, I must stop writing because I have garlic beds to prepare and plant. A farmer’s day is never done. If you like a cushy, stable, and risk-free job, don’t even think about being a farmer. Personally, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

October 23, 2018
Our 2018 Farming Season in a nutshell: Part 2 (Late Spring/Early Summer)

This is the second instalment of Mike Roger’s recap of the rollercoaster farming season of 2018. For part 1, click here.

So, here we are at the end of April, with a grow room full of tiny, compromised seedlings (see part 1). Our hydro bill is through the roof and we have a lot of expenses. Most farmers have already tilled up their beds and are starting to plant the hardier varieties outside. We are feeling defeated. Why bother turning the soil if we don’t have anything to plant yet? It’s only an open invitation for weeds.

In farming, if you’re not an optimist, you’ve already lost the game, so despite it all, we prepare our beds, not knowing what or how much we’re going to grow. We cover the fresh soil with drip irrigation and bio-mulch, a bio degradable plastic film to suppress the weeds and wait for whatever seedlings have survived to mature enough to transplant.

Our only farm income in the spring is our annual Mother’s Day plant sale. Less than a month away, things are looking grim. Our neighbours have come to count on us to find heirloom varieties of tomatoes and other starts you may not find at the nursery. Luckily the tomatoes fared better than the delicate exotic flowers that we spent a lot on seeds for. Miraculously we had a successful sale, factoring in our perennials such as raspberries, rhubarb and herbs.

Farming is so profoundly weather-related — the nicer the spring, the better off you are. Well, not in our case. May was extremely unseasonably hot (aka “Maygust)”. We knew we had to get our starts in for the traditional Victoria Day holiday deadline. We literally watched our tiny compromised transplants shrivel in the hot sun. The top of the soil would be bone-dry midday and watering at this time often magnifies the sun’s rays. We lost even more plants and were forced to direct seed in the blank spaces between the survivors. We also had to resort to purchasing expensive starts from the nursery for many plants we couldn’t wait to sprout.

Most of the things we focus on growing in our niche market are late season – heat-loving and slow-ripening – such as fruit, berries, tomatoes, flowers, and garlic. June is a make or break month, weather-wise. It sets the stage for yields by establishing buds and deep roots to prepare for the summer. A cold spell in June, for some reason, has become common here in recent years. This is fine for those growing brassicas, spinach, radishes and early season crops. During June, however, this weather pattern (Juneuary) lasted the entire month! It seems we got hit worse in Birken than in Pemberton. A few hundred feet in elevation results in a few degrees which can make a huge difference. The general rule is that below 6 degrees C, most plants just stop growing. The nightly lows were often around 7 in Pemberton and less than 5 in Birken. We were burdened with covering the plants up at night (with bubbles from the old Wizard chair), something we normally did in April.

Farmers Markets have become big business. There is pressure to extend the season on both ends, regardless of what’s available from the weather dependent farmers. Again, this is okay for cool weather crops and artisans, but not for us. Nonetheless, we have to book and pay for our markets long in advance. So here we are into July and we’ve got nothing fresh for our scheduled markets. Do we just cancel? No! We need money to keep the farm running! We had to somehow pull a rabbit out of a hat. We quickly made some twig baskets and rustic coatracks (hence the Willowcraft name), packaged some dehydrated garlic and apples, made some vinaigrettes and raided our kitchen garden of herbs and greens. Of course, our stand looked awesome and our customers were unaware of all our challenges.

In farming, if you don’t adapt quickly, you’re done. It’s not like there’s a choice. It’s a life-long lifestyle. I wasn’t going to abandon everything and get a 9-5 job to pay for bills. If it weren’t for credit, I don’t think there would be a single farm in existence.

Stay tuned for part 3, in which we’re overwhelmed as everything ripens at once, and underwhelmed by the performance of our cash crop, garlic. We finally somehow salvage our difficult season finishing on a (spoiler alert) positive note.

October 17, 2018
Our 2018 Farming Season in a Nutshell: Part 1 (Earlyspring)

In farming, no two years are ever similar, with hits, misses, trials and tribulations. You often add a few experiments, delete a few duds, and try to improve infrastructure and efficiency. Nature is fickle however, and like anything in life, things rarely work out as planned, you have to roll with the punches and Mother Earth has a hefty left hook.

This year, we had so many ups and downs I will have to break it into 3 parts: Early spring, Late spring/summer and Fall

Our seasons always start optimistically with the first inkling of spring in early March. This year, we were extremely excited to use our newly constructed propagation room, a large solarium with heated floors, grow lights and ventilation. We invested tons on construction, and more than our usual amount in new seeds, with the intent of going big. We had a line on some recycled potting mix from an indoor commercial operation. I knew using outdoor natural soil for indoor plant starts is a big no-no with the possibility of introducing pests or diseases. I felt confident with my score because it started as certified organic sterilized mix and also sat outside all winter which should have killed any troublemakers and their eggs, plus I had used some before. Most of all it was free, saving me hundreds of dollars in a time that is lean for farmers.

Our lovely solarium also has tropicals, citrus, coffee, figs etc. As soon as the temp rose , the aphids, whose eggs overwintered on these plants, hatched. Problem number one. We quickly tried to control it with insecticidal soap, but couldn’t keep up. With organic methods, you have to work as many angles as possible – you can’t just go out and buy some strong poison and kill everything in one shot. We tried jets of water and vacuuming, but still couldn’t keep up. We became concerned when these little creatures found the tender sprouts of our seed starts. We purchased 3000 lady bugs and let them do the work. They eventually worked but some damage occurred and we had to re-seed a lot. This was early in the game, and we weren’t too upset. We still had plenty of time to recoup our losses.

Fast forward a week or two, and we noticed the seedlings are dying off . We get out the magnifying glass to check for bugs: none. Good. We assumed the plants are damping off, a condition that often occurs in wet, cold soil. We cut back the watering and crank up the heat. This only made the situation worse. Eventually we noticed tiny fruit flies hanging around the plants. Problem number 2. This was perplexing as there was no fruit anywhere and the sprouting vegetation was fine. These plants were dying from the ground up. Oh no! Fungus gnats! These flies are harmless, but their larva were eating the roots faster than they could grow. The damage had been done before we even diagnosed the problem. Those thousands of flies were laying tens of thousands of eggs in the soil. Now what? We called the company that sold us the ladybugs and ordered a bug with a fancy name that eats gnats. We had luck with biological controls (that’s the term when you introduce something natural to control a pest) with the ladybugs vs aphids, so we were confident. We disposed of the trays, re-seeded again and released thousands of these critters all over to deal with the gnats. We didn’t really know yet how these gnats were introduced and assumed they also overwintered on the tropicals in our above freezing solarium. Time was running out on our seeding window, but still felt we could pull it off.

Unfortunately this didn’t work as well as planned. The control pests didn’t multiply as fast as the gnats. The flies kept on hatching which meant the roots were still being eaten.

But where the hell did these bugs come from in the first place? I called the person I got the recycled soil from and asked him if they ever had issues with fungus gnats. He shamefully replied yes, but hadn’t mentioned it at the time, assuming everything would have frozen to death as it sat outside all winter. A quick google search on gnats revealed they have a natural antifreeze in their eggs and larva that can withstand warm winters.

This dilemma kept me up at night: a large part of our farm income – annual flowers, tomatoes, herbs and veggies, was seriously jeopardized. There is no insurance for this type of thing. I scoured the internet for any solution. One was to douse the soil with diluted hydrogen peroxide (suitable for organic standards). This worked a bit, but not totally as it also killed the control pests in the soil. Now I was back to square one and there were still gnats flying around ready to lay more eggs. I tried some other control bugs, but they took a few weeks to hatch! No time to waste! I was frantic.

Next possibility was nematodes – another control bug that lives in the soil. They are expensive, and our seeding budget was getting tighter. I got some leftovers from a friend, but they were out of date. I had no time to rely on something that may not work. Last option? An organic mosquito control for small ponds that apparently works on gnats. This was affordable and I just kept dousing the soil every couple days. It seemed to be working but not after losing thousands of seedlings.

Now that we knew the source of the problem and a had a solution, we had to get some fresh potting mix and re-seed for the 3rd time with whatever seeds we had left.

We were now far behind schedule, but like all farmers we kept ploughing through on a wing and a prayer.

Come back for part 2 (Late spring/summer), in which I will describe how the weather further shit-kicked us.

October 15, 2018
Small Potatoes

Pemberton is nicknamed Spud Valley for good reason. Potatoes are the number one crop grown in the valley. The soil here is amazing for growing all kinds of vegetables but potatoes especially love it. The families who immigrated from Ireland and settled here in the early 1900’s saw this and started to grow potatoes. Thus the legend of the Pemberton potato was born.

Fast forward to today. There are 9 farms in the valley growing Elite Seed Potatoes. It takes us 3 or 4 years to get a crop that we will sell and ship off our farm. We grow our potatoes strictly to sell for seed to other potato growers who then may plant them for 1 or 2 more years before they end up in a store and on your plate.

The first year starts with what we call tissue culture plants. These are basically potato plant stem cuttings produced in a plant propagation facility that is co operatively run buy the farmers. Thousands of these plants are produced and planted in the field or in a screen house.

Our operation runs a screen house. This small house will produce enough potatoes to plant 40 or 50 acres in 3 years. These plants are amazing! Whenever I plant them I just can’t believe that these tiny fragile cuttings are going to grow into anything. Watered and cared for all summer long and they do it. They grow into beautiful big potato plants that produce tiny little tubers that will then become the base of our seed crop which we will sell in 4 years.

The potatoes that we harvest from our screen house are called mini tubers. Tiny little potatoes that we harvest, in the fall, by hand and store for the winter, planting them the following spring. They will be harvested and planted 3 more times. And so begins the circle of life for the famous Pemberton Potato.

August 19, 2018