AgriCulture: A Legacy

I used to be a regular reader of the CDC’S Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report, back in the early AIDS epidemic years. Every seven days, a cold, clinical gut punch which at that time almost always confirmed your worst fears of death and despair. That report came to mind as I contemplated writing this week’s bulletin, fearful that if I told you yet another tale of the sad death of a beloved creature I might have to rename this “the Turkana Farms Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Blog.” What a cheery gift at the end of your work week!

It would be dishonest, however, to ignore how euthanizing my ewe Ayse did set the tone here over the last few days. Even though her quality of life was undeniably awful and she was approaching the generally accepted upper limit of a sheep’s life span (she would have turned 13 next week), deciding to terminate brought back painful memories of the death of my late partner, Peter, after he suffered a grievous fall.

Peter had made his wishes known: He did not want to be kept alive if he couldn’t be restored to full function. He did not want to be intubated. But, urged by doctors, I talked him into a one-day intubation. Then, when he could no longer speak for himself, again the doctors convinced me to extend it for several days until his son could arrive and the inevitability of his recovery or failure became clear. I believed Peter died furious at me for betraying his wishes, but with the doctors promising a chance of full recovery I couldn’t help but hope. When it’s life and death, and you don’t know whether it’s more merciful to end or continue, the power to choose is agony.

But Ayse’s death triggered more joyful memories than regretful ones. As I walked back from the barn with the vet, I passed a young sour cherry tree that I see at least a half dozen times a day. I noticed that it was suddenly laden with fruit — ripened to a bright shiny red seemingly overnight. Peter had given me several of these fruit trees for my birthday the spring just before he died. This year, for the first time they have finally all borne fruit.

It was Peter’s vision to plant these fruit trees along the path from the chicken coop back to the barn, and I followed his instruction rather than go with my initial instinct to place them along the driveway. It got me to thinking about all the ways in which he formed this place.

Most obviously, the landscape. It was Peter who moved the driveway from its practical straight line alongside the house and created a circular drive, wrapping around an oval lawn and perennial border, creating a private oasis that suited the relationship he wanted with the world — no easy path to the front door. It was Peter who had the pond dug on the west side of the house and used the dirt to create that lawn and border on the east side. Peter decided to enclose the front yard with a picket fence. He created the rock garden of succulents out of a shelf of shale in the shady portion of the back yard west of the fruit trees. And he placed the vegetable garden in the sunny section to their east.

Peter always knew how the farm would best operate as well. About a year or so after we bought the place, Peter helped create a de facto neighborhood association (dubbed Farm Neighbors) of about half a dozen mostly contiguous properties, totaling about 200 acres, along two parallel roads. Peter proposed we jointly hire a farm manager and have the properties managed as a single unit. Nothing came of his suggestion then, and we went about just selling our excess produce for the next twenty years, but remarkably, this year, by dint of circumstances, we find my property, and the next two adjacent farms, hosting a herd of cattle, owned and managed by another farmer, rotationally grazing over our collective approximately 120 acres. Peter’s vision, in essence, realized, and his prescience vindicated.

The interior of the house reflects Peter’s vision, wedding practicality with aesthetic beauty, all the more. I’m afraid I take the kitchen he and Bob Fleury designed for granted, until a new visitor comments. And then I smile and give Peter credit and appreciative silent thanks.

But now, even with all his good works around me, it’s still just me here. When Peter and I discussed what would happen after one of us died, we always thought the survivor would sell the place. Peter certainly would not have expected my full-time presence here, in a life populated by a cast of characters almost entirely unknown to him (but of whom I’m sure he would approve). He would not have expected me to take on the challenge of running this place all on my own while also continuing my law practice. But then, he would have underestimated the power of his inspiration as a teacher and visionary– and the allure of the beautiful life he built here for us.

Ayse was distinctive in that she was human-friendly without ever having been bottle fed. Imprinting through feeding is how powerful sheep bonds usually get formed. In Ayse’s case, though, it was her mother, Sultana, who was bottle fed. Sultana trained her to bond with humans. She told Ayse what to care about, whom to trust.

In the same way, I took my cue from Peter. Whether he was directing theatre or restoring historic properties, there was always a relentless application of will and a complete refusal to give up, all in pursuit of a vision. I am fiddling with his vision at the edges, paring back some aspects that are more than one person can accomplish. But I think of myself as carrying his legacy forward–mimicking that indomitable spirit as best I can. For teachers like Peter, life is carried forward after death in those they have taught.

What’s New This Week

For those of you who have been patiently awaiting fava beans, the pods are forming, should be large enough for sale next week.

Meantime, newly available are small white oasis turnips, shiso leaves, lambs quarters and a few quarts of sour cherries. Perfect for cold Hungarian soup, or Turkish sour cherry bread pudding, or just a plain old pie.

WHAT’S AVAILABLE THIS WEEK

Sour Cherries $7 a quart (limited quantity)

Rhubarb $4 a lb.

Mint $1 a bunch

Dill, $1 a bunch

Lamb’s quarters $2 a bag

White oasis turnips, $3/lb

Shiso leaves, $1 for 10

Chervil $1.50 a bunch

Sorrel, $3 a bag

Spinach $4 a bag (limited quantities)

Garlic chives, $1/bunch (flat leafed)

EGGS: $5/doz

FRESH HORSERADISH, $3/lb

CHICKENS: They were quite uniform in size, all just around 6 lbs, a few under. These freedom rangers have been what you want them to be, deeply flavorful. $6/lb, frozen.

FARM PICKUPS:

Email us your order at [email protected], and let us know when you’d like to pick up your order. It will be put out for you on the side screened porch of the farmhouse (110 Lasher Ave., Germantown) in a bag. You can leave cash or a check in the now famous pineapple on the porch table. Because I’m now here full time, we’re abandoning regular pick-up times. Let us know when you want your order any day between 10 and 5, and unless there are unusual circumstances we’ll be able to ready it to your convenience. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to call or text at 917-544-6464 or email.