A recent phone call I had with the farmers co-op:
I’d like to schedule the lime spreader to come out.
Sure, how many acres?
We need 22 acres covered. That will be six different pastures. The amount of lime varies per pasture, but it adds up to 26 tons, total.
Well, we’re a bit backed up right now. It’ll be a few weeks.
No problem, we just wanted to get in the queue.
Ok. What is the name of your farm?
Winged Elm Farm.
(Laughs) Ok. We Don’t Farm. That’s a new one.
What? No, we do farm. Winged Elm Farm.
Oh, sorry. We Do Farm. Interesting name.
Yeah, it’s a tree around here. We were going to call it White Oak Farm, but we found out there were hundreds of those around the country. We are the only ones with our name.
I know that’s right. Ok. We will call you the day before we can come out. There might be rain next week. That’ll push us back even further before we can get into the fields.
Sounds good. Thanks.
The co-op driver came out two weeks later and spread the lime. Nice guy. When he was done he handed me the invoice. Printed at the top was our farm name, We Do Farm Farm.
Sigh.
Reminds me of the time an employee assured you that the co-op’s livestock feed was unmedicated. You looked at the ingredients and told him they included antibiotics. His response: “Yeah, but antibiotics aren’t medication.”
I remember that all too well.
“Yeah, but antibiotics aren’t medication.”
Ouch! Perhaps one should engrave that on a big stone which later might serve as a grave marker for all mankind – so that when the Martians do visit they’ll be able to figure out what went wrong (or at least have one more item to add to the list of possibilities).
Indeed, sir.
The communication problem had to be in your South Louisiana accent???? Not that you have one…apparently his east Tennessee ears just couldn’t decipher it… 🙂
I was on the phone with a tech agent, who sounded like he was in Mumbai. He told me he couldn’t understand my accent, so sorry.
It would only have been tax evasion had the name been We Don’t Farm Farm.
I hope they’ll at least be willing to follow your precise calculations for the lime.
Fellow Albrechtian.
How are the apples coming along this year? I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time assembling the varieties for this year’s planting.
In the course of which I came across this lady from Wisconsin who really enjoys pressing her Calville apples as cider………………
In the past, this apple got shipped to the Czar’s court from my country; these days, it is the most disease-prone around; still royalty, and only recommended for espaliers in the very best locations.
Yet you Americans can pick it off a tree in the orchard.
Well, not sure how precise I’m, yet, a good soil test does wonders.
Ah, you speak to the man who planted an acre of old English cider varieties when first I planted. We all covet, as gardeners, what flourishes in another’s garden. Which reminds me of the time I assisted a neighbor by plowing her garden in the spring. When I was speaking to an old “salty” farmer the following day, I pointed out the woman’s son who was helping on the farm. I said, I plowed his mother’s garden yesterday. Without missing a beat, he said, Oh, is that what they call it these days.
Juicy and salty.
I think the English language should be making room for the expression ‘to press as cider’, and sharply.
‘Pressing for cider’ is to be reserved for varieties which can’t be sold as individual slices…
I’m planning a little espalier, 30 metres or so, to bridge the gap until the seedling rootstocks start bearing.
And to have less varieties I don’t have. I’ll stop at 60, including everything else.
Maybe 70.
Let’s just make it an even 80, Michael.
Liming the pastures should help the legumes flourish – and flourishing legumes help the grass flourish – and flourishing grass… well, you get it. With all the flourishing going on the farm will gain notoriety and eventually even the guy at the coop will know who Winged Elm Farm is. Fame. All for purchase of 48 thousand some odd pounds of lime. Good deal.
Oops, have done the maths wrong… 52 thousand some odd pounds… hope I never have to run a coop.
A toast to next year’s legume crop.