Had a productive afternoon at the farm. I spent my time going back and forth between the gardens laying mulch, doing a little planting (another row of potatoes–Austrian Crescent fingerlings, plus yellow stem chard), watering, working up new beds, and a host of other little jobs.
The day was about perfect at 65 degrees or so–any warmer and it ends up being hot out in the gardens, and my pale skin isn’t ready to be exposed to the searing rays.
Since I was laying mulch, I wore a long-sleeved shirt to avoid the straw itchies, and I wore a hat, too, to keep the sun out of my face. At thirty-five I’m already getting some serious lines around my eyes from all those years of sun-worship. It’s all about character, right?
H came out and used the “big tiller” (his joking name for the backhoe) to remove the remnants of some mulberry trees we took out via truck-bungee last year. We’re getting ready to put in the perimeter fence that will hopefully make the deer less of a problem in the gardens.
So, altogether it was a productive day, and at the end of it, at the request of some town neighbors, I loaded my broadfork into the pickup to help with their garden prep. Loaded my seedbag and water bottle too, started the truck, and started to pull around to head out.
Oh, crap. I knew exactly what it was, too. I’d brought a half a flat of Italian flatleaf parsley out for a day in the sun and possible transplanting. I managed to get two plants in the ground, but the rest were sitting quietly next to my right front tire.
I put the emergency brake on and stepped out. Yup–I took out about half my parsley plants, plus the flat and most of the cell packs they were in. Argh.
But all is not lost. Some managed to be out of the way of the crushing blow, and I’d thought to leave a couple plants at home, too. Still, not exactly the best end to a productive day!