We use that old shovel everywhere around the farm. I don’t know what I’d do if it ever broke. We have planted untold thousands of potatoes, tomatoes, peppers, flowers over the years. Me doing the stomp, shuffle, stab with the shovel, while Fran is bending over, pulling the plant babies from the seed trays and tucking them in their new homes in the holes that the shovel has opened up.
We use the shovel to set the width of the rows as well. The distance from the end of the handle to the metal head of the shovel being exactly the width needed to work the roto-tiller down the plant rows, plus a bit for plant growth. Our big field is anchored on one end by raspberry rows and the other end by peony bushes. We fill in with rows of vegetables in the spring until the field is full. I love a field with nice straight symmetrical rows. It NEVER happens. Somewhere in the process, I’ll forget to mark the row and move one end but not the other and we get goofed up. Fran always teases me we should rename this place “Crooked-Row Farm.” There’s always next year — farmers are the world’s biggest optimists.
My daughter recently asked me if I felt that I had wasted my education and experience by going into farming.
Full disclosure: I hold degrees in electronics, tooling and technology, and manufacturing engineering. I spent 40 years of my life in maintenance and engineering in the aerospace, automotive, and food industries. I have done and seen things that are not for the meek or timid.
I replied to her, “not at all.”
In fact I rely on the background virtually every day.
Types of books that make me cry are “Engineering Economic and Cost Analysis” by Collier. Those decisions that I used to make on a corporate level take on a whole new meaning when applied at the farm level and hit you right in the wallet if you get it wrong. Fran tells me I can do anything I want — as long as I don’t spend any money on it.
It takes all the background and creativity I have to pull projects off sometimes. From time to time I have to pull out an old textbook to figure out the bends to make in my row tunnel hoops, or how much seed to apply in the square footage of an odd-shaped field, or when to stop pouring money into a piece of equipment and simply go get a new one. The best compliment I ever had was over hearing one coworker talking to another about a broken piece of machinery one day.
Worker 1: Do you think they can fix it?
Worker 2: Oh yes. Alan’s a farmer. He’ll figure it out.
And so it goes.
Why do I farm? It suits me. I like it. Unlike Fran who was born into a farm family, I chose this profession. I like the freedom to succeed, and the freedom to fail. I like the ability to try new things. I like to push myself mentally and physically, doing things that most others cannot or will not do. I like the early morning quiet. I like the fireflies in the evening. I like the people I meet and the friends I have made. I like the smiles at market when they see the new produce on the tables. I like my critters and our simple bonds. I like the self reliance, knowing we can take some hard knocks and get up and figure it out and try it again. I like working with my wife and best friend. I like a job well done. We’ll never get rich, but that’s not what we’re all about. We just like the lifestyle.
All the best from Greenrock Farm.
Alan and Fran