It was great while it lasted, but Jack Frost crept into the neighborhood this past weekend and terminated the 2021 growing season. Last Monday, I marveled that the cherry tomatoes had brought forth a new flush of bloom in a show of unbridled optimism, and the best-flavored and most bountiful fall raspberry crop in many years was continuing in its bounty. So in a post-frost world, I will celebrate the raspberries by having a dish of them this morning for breakfast. If the truth be known, grass has been the only thing exhibiting persistent and continued growth recently. Although warmth can contribute to growth, as the sun heads south the length of day and strength of the light is now equivalent to the sunlight and length of day at the beginning of February. I am already using supplementary light in my propagation house to grow out fuchsia and geranium stock plants for cuttings. The fall was very good to us. We have been short-handed in the fields all year. Fall is a time that we traditionally to try to “catch up,” and although we will never achieve that goal totally, it is a time of cleaning up, consolidation, and starting to consider the upcoming year. The sweet potatoes were harvested last week and are now curing in my shop, and we are plugging away at the carrots, with about an acre left to dig by hand. Leeks sit in the field until needed as do the brussels sprouts. We will lift watermelon and daikon radish, and dig the turnips and rutabaga before the ground freezes. All the potatoes are dug and sized. The onions are dried on the greenhouse benches, and will shortly be topped and brought inside in 25 bushel boxes for holiday and winter packout. The last couple of days have seen a flurry of pre-frost pepper harvest, so there are just under 100 bushels in the cooler to be metered out. Things will get slower in the field this coming week because it will be getting colder and the light levels will shorten the work day. We got through so much of the fall harvest because the weather was so warm and dry. Harvesting without gloves is a gift we normally don’t have this time of year. And although Ray and Mike will carry on in their shorts and sweatshirts until after Thanksgiving, I was able to wear them comfortably in October before I finally went to long pants. My motor doesn’t run as hot as it used to, so a warm fall is a gift worth celebrating at Anne’s and my age. Viewing this recent meteorological gift through the lens of climate change, we can all agree we have seen the upside. While we had a challenging drought in May and June and then 16 inches of rain in July, we definitely had it easier than our counterparts on the west coast, where it literally burned for months. Dave Murdough, my retired Forest Service friend, spent his summer running fire-camp logistics, (except when his superiors sent him home because it looked like his house was in the path of a fire). He was sufficiently discouraged to say, in a moment of exhaustion, “the whole west is on fire.” Fortunately, he is currently safely inside his house in Oregon, witnessing a wonderful soaking rain, the first he has seen in a very, very long time. It is hard to imagine that just one fire burnt up an area the size of Rhode Island. What a cost incurred to our nation for annual forest fire control. What a loss of natural resources.

Twenty years ago I had a ‘boys night out” trip to the farms of California with Jake Guest, Dave Pierson and Skip Paul. Our stated objective was to look at differing cover-crop strategies, to source specialized farm equipment, and just see how the other half lives. But not the least of our objectives was to be in the comfort and company of like-minded friends. Along the way a lot of ice cream was eaten and a lot of Mexican food and beer was consumed, as well as a drive-by of Clint Eastwood’s home. But twenty years ago we talked to farmers who, in the period of as many years, had already drawn down their aquifers over 200 feet. They were re-drilling their wells frequently so that they could continue growing crops, and that was back in the year 2000. I listen to news segments and podcasts about farmers and farming in California and the Southwest. It is apparent that growers there are running out of water, and are looking for assistance from the government in terms of regulations, subsidy and technology, so they may continue to farm as they have. Twenty years ago, we four farmers would have gladly have had California fall into the ocean, given its ability to grow cheap food. I have to say that I don’t wish that today. When water availability gets really tight in the southwest, the northeastern United States. the Maritimes and Quebec are not going to be able to be America’s breadbasket. Our growing season, terrain and climate cannot replicate what comes out of the Central Valley. We are already seeing the ramifications of this through increasing food prices. Is climate change Armageddon? I’m not sure about how bad it’s really going to be. I suspect if we survive, farming will be hard and very expensive. In the meantime it hasn’t diminished my enthusiasm for the recent weather that it has generated. It was a positive aspect of climate change, even if it isn’t guaranteed in another year. I hope that public opinion and our leadership will find a way to start acting on climate change nationally and globally. In our little world here at the farm we have to adapt to whatever it is or is going to be. A friend once was going on and on about the dire consequences of climate change, and my response was pretty simple: “If Armageddon is coming, we still have to eat until it gets here…” For our part, the potatoes and onions and strawberries will continue to be planted. I hope Americans will reacquaint themselves with gardening, food processing, and being self sustaining. I hope that we will all start considering the ramifications of natural resource depletion, over-population of our planet, and climate change, and make that a more important concern our lives. Our grandchildren are depending on it.