My church, Artisan Church of Rochester, has been singing the hymn Everlasting Arms (Showalter/Hoffman) for the past few weeks. With small word changes, I came up with:
What a humid day, wipe the sweat away
Weeding away at Mud Creek farms... (I’m weeding)
Weeding ...(I’m weeding), weeding... (I’m weeding), weeding away at Mud Creek farms...
Weeding ...(I’m weeding), weeding... (I’m weeding), weeding away at Mud Creek farms...
Yes, it was another week of weeding of a vegetable whose name I am struggling to remember. Oh, I remember the hot sun, the snails and beetles, and the sly weeds that grew up so close to the plant that my unaccustomed eye can't distinguish, but not the name. Oh! It was Chinese Eggplants! What was most discouraging was doing 20 feet and looking up to barely see the end of the row 180 ft away. But we did it, on our hands and knees, and it was quite an accomplishment.
Erin is a master weed identifier. Once I called her over to ask, "Is this a vegetable? Does it stay?"
She walked over and asked me, "Is it in the row?"
"No, but it looks official, you know like a real vegetable."
"It doesn't matter, pull it up. Anyway, it's a 'xxxxxx' weed."
I thought, Okay now I understand, 'if it's not in a row, then it has to go.' Sometimes I feel like a 8 year old with these silly questions.
We also mulched the potatoes with straw. Hilling potatoes is to done with dirt but it was late in the season so Erin is using straw upon the advice of another potato farmer. The hope is that the potatoes will send out the the buds into the straw and the potatoes will grow in the straw.
Labor of Love
7 years ago
