Those of us who have jobs and safe homes and who are sheltering in place are having many similar experiences -- the news shares so many stories that we all understand. There is talk about fear and loss and grieving and increased communication between friends and family. Cabin fever, home schooling, recipes, exercise routines, zoom meetings, loneliness plus all the health workers who are working in unsafe conditions, getting sick, struggling to keep us all safe. We have never done this before. It is Groundhog Day and unlimited Snow Days and Pandemic all rolled together.
But (and you knew there would be a "but") very little is reported from the front lines of the farmers. So here is your update from Northern Virginia.
March started out unusually warm, after a winter that was actually a long lead-up to spring. So we carefully went out in to the fields a few weeks early and started to get some ground ready for seeds and plants. It was way too early to put real plants in the ground, but the soil was warmer than it has ever been during those first weeks of March. The new tractor got here (as you know) the first week of March and five days later we took her out for her first job (as you also know). What you don't know yet is that the radish and turnip seeds came up within a week, with excellent germination, in straight and satisfyingly parallel rows. Before #42 came, the rows were relatively straight and mostly parallel -- as good as Carrie could get them with a push seeder, walking back and forth. It took a few more weeks for the carrots to come up, but carrots are famously finicky and sometimes they never come up at all. In a normal year, we would be starting to think about putting some carrots in the ground around the first week of April, if we decided to plant them at all in the spring.
Which is to say that climate change is affecting the start dates of our planting, and in some ways it is exciting to be able to begin the season, slowly, calmly, gently and well before the hot weather is breathing on our heads.
And because it was not a real winter, but actually a long and early spring, we have unusual quantities of not-dead food in the fields. Before the coronavirus became a motivating factor, we had already decided we would be able to continue our Winter CSA into the spring -- for the first time ever. We have been feeding 100 families all winter and we offered to keep feeding them for a few more weeks. Little did we know that the benefit of having a safe and uncrowded place to "shop" would be just as important as having bok choy and kale and spinach. The other day many customers came to the CSA room, scurrying almost, looking like moles who had just come up for the first time. So many said "you are the first people we have seen since the last time we came to the farm!" Oh, that is sad.
The market situation is ever-changing and much depends on which organization is in charge of the market. Virginia in particular has been wrestling with the appropriate response. First they just closed the markets, and then they decided that we were like restaurants (not completely wrong as many people come to markets to snack and socialize) so they would limit the number of people allowed in the market to 10. Everyone is encouraged to set up a system for ordering ahead of time so we can just do take-out. We are sending letters to the Governor and other officials, trying to explain that Maryland and DC have made a much more logical choice in declaring farmers markets to be like grocery stores.
Meanwhile, we have continued our March schedule of going to market at Dupont Circle every other week, with some trepidation. We do all we can to protect our workers and the customers but there is a feeling of tension and anxiety at the market. It is completely warranted but if people are still going grocery shopping at regular stores, they certainly should be able to keep their distance at an outdoor market and get good food from farmers.
Yesterday I had to send a letter to a worker who is trying to cross state lines to get here -- a letter for her to carry that declares her to be an essential worker in the world of food production. We will all be carrying these letters as we travel between the farms, or between home and farm for those who don't live here. So it is Groundhog Day and Snow Day and Pandemic plus something I don't even recognize -- living in a locked down state, needing to carry papers.
Every new worker who joins our crew needs to be quarantined, basically. They will work with us, but at an unprecedented distance. Teaching someone to do a task but not being able to help them with our hands is a new kind of distance learning. Wiping down surfaces on a farm feels crazy, somehow. We used to focus on food safety, and now that seems so easy. Now we are focusing on avoiding an invisible virus that could kill someone. If you think about it too much, it can really make you anxious and grumpy.
But -- and you KNEW I was going to say this -- the spinach is so unbelievably vibrant and gorgeous that it is impossible to stay anxious and grumpy. You just have to remember to wallow in the beauty and appreciate the incredible level of privilege that comes with farming. The privilege of continuing to work, of seeing people every day, of being part of so much unfolding green-ness (the cover crop is busting out all over, just exploding with deep color. It's not just green, it's some color that might be called Luscious Living Green.). The privilege of having a business that is essential. So many hard-working people don't have that.
And that is what is happening here. Plenty of worry balanced with plenty of joy. And plenty of food.
Thinking of all of you who are having to find joy in other ways, and hoping with all our hearts that you stay healthy. Keep your distance and wash your hands and get outside.
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