AgriCulture: Chafing at the Long Haul, by Mark Scherzer

There are four individuals in our household with very different dietary preferences and food aversions, but it appears we are all united in our love of brassicas — cabbage, kale, brussels sprouts, broccoli, etc. It is a love I now know we share with the ground hogs who live among us, and who keep marauding our garden.

I have been assiduously cultivating a patch of kale in various varieties, from the familiar curly-leafed light green to the straight leafed dark blue-green lacinato to mixed Siberian and Russian greens and reds, since the earliest days of the garden this season. It’s started with a mix of left-over seedlings Victoria kindly brought from the farm where she’s working and a packet of mixed exotic seeds I got from the Hudson Valley Seed Company. They were doing pretty well up to about two weeks ago, when I noticed that the big leaves of those furthest along were disappearing. Every day I would come out and find more of the plants decimated. Thankfully, the grazing just took the bigger leaves — the stems and smallest new leaves were generally left behind, so the plant would regenerate. Still, it was frustrating that whatever began to look like it would soon be harvestable was disappearing, when we should have already been eating home grown kale.

I realized we were dealing with a decided taste for brassica when one morning I found the kale without new damage, only to see that a similar munching pattern had been replicated in the nearby bed of brussels sprouts. Two days later, it was the bed of broccoli (see picture). Unlike the kale patch, which I’d assiduously weeded and mulched so the kale plants were the only thing to eat, the brussels sprouts and broccoli patches were pretty weedy, with the young brassicas I had seeded not that easy to discern. Nonetheless, whatever was eating them was doing so selectively. The amaranth, gallant soldier, lambsquarter, purslane and chickweed among which my seedlings were growing remained untouched, but the brassicas were continuously reduced to one or two leaves.

The thought of adding further interior garden fences to a fenced garden, or of hiring a trapper as I had in the past, or reverting to what had always to me seemed a futile effort to poison the groundhogs through putting smoke bombs in their tunnels, was highly discouraging. I felt I was looking forward to an endless war.

And my discouragement turned to near rage the other morning when I came out to water a row of sugar snap peas (not even brassicas!) I had planted along the garden fence, and which were in flower and staring to produce pods. I found virtually the entire 50 foot stretch of pea vines gone. In some cases, the tops of the vines were still twined in the fence, shriveling, allowing me to see that the eating was done from ground level. And I kicked myself for having just weeded around those peas, as I saw that the few vines that were spared were those made invisible behind blackberry canes.

Such was my anger that the same afternoon, when we found Eric’s dog, Lillie, in confrontation with a large groundhog, I relished the battle that ensued. The groundhog was snarling, Lillie was barking loudly and incessantly, and while she was frequently picking up the creature and swinging it around, it was biting back. Even as Troy objected that allowing Lillie to fight with a wild animal was no way to address our ground hog problem, my blood lust was such that I asked Eric to let it continue. And he did for a little while, until it was clear that the stand-off was exhausting her and she was not going to win the fight easily.

I wonder if my perhaps irrational response simply reflects the larger environment in which we are living. We escaped to the farm as Covid-19 ravaged the City for what we thought would be a couple of weeks. That turned into a three month continuous stay which, if I am determined to keep staying safe while not feeling imprisoned, looks like it could stretch into next year. Not a brief skirmish with the flu. A protracted war.

There are numerous reactions one might have to the prospect of a long haul war, and all of us probably experience all of them to different degrees. Most of the time I’m in the “grit my teeth and just slog through” it state of mind. I expect not to return to the normal activities I love for a very long time to come. But at other times the prospect of enduring such a long haul war depresses me, fills me with a simmering fury, makes me want to find someone to blame. My fuse is short and I think maybe a decisive battle is required to move on. Hence, “Kill that groundhog, LIllie.”

In this way, I guess my character is more American and less disciplined than I think. Much commentary has already been written on Americans’ inability to discipline themselves and to sacrifice. It seems clear to me that the enthusiasm on the left and the right for engaging in risky virus-spreading behavior in the service of ideological goals (BLM demo, meet MAGA rally) is an example of that lack of discipline or, stated more positively, passion for self-expression.

The wars over masking, the “Reopen” movements, are not unique to America. But they are particularly acute here — part of a tradition that posits an inconsistency between social responsibility to each other and personal liberty / autonomy. That strain in our culture is a big part of the reason that our pandemic is going to remain so much more serious than the one in Europe.

But even the folks an without ideological trigger, as described in many news articles lately, are eating away at social distancing in a way that to me portends tragedy. I am reminded of the chorus to Country Joe and the Fish’s Vietnam Song: “And its 1,2,3 what are we fightin’ for? don’t ask me I don’t give a damn, the next stop is Vietnam, and its 5,6,7 open up the pearly gates. Well there ain’t no time to wonder why…WHOOPEE we’re all gonna die.” In our current circumstances, we will apparently accept unbearable numbers of casualties in the interest not just of fighting but also of partying. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may die.

I could write on, but I am beset by impatience. Unable to postpone my own gratification, I am running off to Rhinebeck to get a haircut.

WHAT’S NEW THIS WEEK:

Swiss Chard, $3/bag
Purslane, $2/bag
Small White Oasis Turnips $2/bunch

WHAT’ ELSE IS AVAILABLE THIS WEEK

Tiny hot matchbox peppers, $5.00 a string, dried and quite decorative.
Fresh dug horseradish root, $3/lb.
Sorrel, one gallon bag, $3/bag
Mint, $1/ bunch
Garlic chives (the flat kind), $1/bunch
Dill, $1/bunch
Baby forrelenschluss lettuce, $2/bag
Lambsquarters $2/bag
Rhubarb $5/lb
EGGS: $5/doz

MEATS: Have been largely cleaned out during the supermarket shortages of this spring. What is still in stock:

LAMB: a few remaining , leg of lamb $14/lb, lamb shoulder roast $7/lb.

PORK: fresh ham roasts (2 to 3 lbs), $12/lb

Chickens will be available again at the end of summer, additional lamb in mid July.

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.