Monday Farm Photos

Jesse's farm day started with wages earned for tomatoes that he had transplanted. They had been sold as potted plants at Saturday's market. With nine dollars in his formerly empty pocket, Jesse was easily game for Papa's proposed project of the day - transplanting small tomato plants into even bigger pots. Once these plants are established as big container residents they can then be sold as rustic decoration/tomato provider for a city dweller's front porch.Gillen is pointing to the part of the plant that will be above the dirt. By planting them deeply they will will establish more roots.
Jesse transplanted my favorite heirloom tomato - "Black Krim".
I collected lots of root vegetables and a mixture of salad leaves for dinner tomorrow with my father, and Bhu! My sister is coming from Montana.
This is how we dry the lettuce on the farm - in our old washing machine, on the spin cycle. Man do I wish that had been the way when I was the salad-mix farm wench. Hand spinning a salad spinner for a few hours will make you appreciate life on the prairie.
While waiting for the spin cycle to finish, I decided to try a few more self-portraits. My local friends had insisted that I look nothing like those other recent first attempts at taking my own picture. Having seen the crazy-haired, wrinkled farm-frau in today's pictures, I have to agree. Even Gillen told me not to post them here. Now that I see the difference, I have a new wish to make with my magic quartz crystal - I wish to walk around all day bathed in that setting-sun porch light. I've said it often and I reconfirm it in a vain vein (?) today: lighting. really. is. everything.

(I hope I haven't lost the farmers) -

Here is Nicolas spraying his tomato plants with Neem oil - which comes from an Indian tree and is great to use against aphids, white flies and other soft-bodied insects:Is there really room for self-portraits when there are vegetables as pretty as this? These are a mixture of "Pink Beauty" and "Cherry Belle" radishes.
The asparagus (one of the few left for the year) right before Nicolas power-weeded this bed.
Here are the onions back in the middle of March:Today:
I caught the roosters rehearsing a synchronized (maybe a military maneuver?) dance. Do they sense their imminent demise? Are they "raging against the dying of the light"? sigh. I don't look forward to it either.

Farm roosters: I may love your gelatin-rich, life-sustaining broth, and despise your loud and macho ways. But I wish that we could wait for you to die in your sleep.

The ladybugs are everywhere again, as is the beautiful Hairy Vetch.