Grains aren't OK

This is the first harvest from my very own farm. I've looked forward to this moment for years, since I first dedicated myself to farming for the people. It's taken struggle, patience, enduring indignities, and help from friends to make this happen. I lost some of my crop this year to wild animals and unusual weather, but what feels most disappointing is the crop wastage incurred by the grain harvester -- my former employer and mentor -- dismissing my concerns.

20% of my grain is scattered in the field. How'd the happen? The person who harvested is a new farmer going into his 7th season. But he's the only game in town for processing grain and he discourages others to get such equipment for fear of jeopardizing his business. With this monopoly, what could I do when he showed up with a combine he's never used before and said I'd be his guinea pig? I needed to harvest and already exhausted other possibilities. I suggested he set the combine at the most conservative settings. He elided my comment by saying that he set the combine for "wheat" and it should be fine.

Harvesting

It wasn't. An acre later, some 500 lbs of red fife lay strewn across the ground. I kneeled in the dirt to count my precious seed. I had so looked forward to celebrating this day, but I can't help but feel crushed. It's not only the loss of grains that I had promised to a baker friend, nor the damper on my farm's growth, but my feeling of betrayal from someone I had respected and trusted. 

As small farmers in a new grain movement we should stick together because there are bigger fish to worry about. Yet here's this person who says he cares about building community, increasing heirloom grains, and supporting new farmers who didn't mutter a hint of apology for destroying my crop, my efforts, and my livelihood.

Grains on the ground

I wrote a description of what happened for a lawyer friend of mine who will help me figure out compensation for crop wastage. I want to find a solution that's fair. I told the harvester that I want to have a sit-down conversation, but he stands by his offer of 100 lbs.

Salvaged Sonora and Red Fife

Grains are ok!

I gathered a few samples from each variety and found that most the grains are fine. Some plumped up and shriveled, but they mostly seemed protected by their chaff. Whew! The .25 inches of rain didn't ruin me afterall.

piggys

I found the culprits!

Rain on my Parade

Early last week, I got everything lined up for harvest: food grade storage barrels, pallets to put barrels on, a forklift for maneuvering, and a harvester, Doug Mosel. I wanted to save some grain plants before harvest so that people can see the whole plant. Below are photos small bundles.

Dark Northern Rye

Red Fife

Sonora

Triple IV

I've been looking forward to this harvest -- my first crop off my own farm! Everything's perfectly ripe and Doug was going to harvest on the 10th. But what came instead? Rain. Ukiah never sees rain in July!

Rainy day

I walked the field in the rain, rubbing grain heads between my hands to see how easily seeds fell out. They didn't budge.

Developing mold on the chaff

I don't know what's going to happen with my crop. This is, perhaps, a good reminder to be released of attachments, and to view from a bigger perspective.

Deer ate my grains, rains may be rotting them. These are challenges of farming with nature. We tried farming at odds with nature, thinking that the world is ours to control. Because we have, we’ve done much damage to the earth and each other. I’d rather feed the deer than poison or shoot them for entering the farm. They are important partners in managing the ecosystem. The rains may be inopportune for me, but it helps our region by alleviating the drought by just that little bit. If the grains rot, then at least I planted a crop that sequesters significant amounts of carbon from the atmosphere, returning it to the soil so that there’s less to warm our planet.

You know who wanted rain, though? The millet. They seem happier. 

Pearl Millet

Foxtail Millet

Proso Millet

There was no point staying home this weekend and worrying about whether the sun would come out. In any case, I was supposed to attend my friend's wedding. I met this friend in my first physics class freshman year of college. We happened to sit next to each other in lab, but our first interaction was when he moved my hand to look at something on the paper I covered. I told him to pay attention to personal space. We joked about it and, alas, we became friends. He was always supportive in an unobtrusive way, letting me stay at his place when my roommate tried to seduce me, inviting me over for dinner when he saw me digging through dumpsters. 

A few years ago, he went through a dark time in grad school. He felt disillusioned with life and felt alone in being that way. So, I made him a website and asked people to contribute their stories of disillusionment. Many responded, filling the white space with anecdotes and experiences. Nothing conclusive or preachy was said. But it was a way for all of us to see that we're not alone and we're still alive, figuring things out, with some support along the way.

My friend weathered that period and graduated with a PhD in chemistry. He's now in law school (masochist, this one) and partnered with a wonderful, strong, smart, beautiful woman. I'm glad he could shed that terrible time and be open to different possibilities.

I'm thrilled to have been part of celebrating an old friend in a new chapter of his life. I danced in the colorful and joyous procession leading my friend to the temple to meet the bride. Inside the temple a path of rose petals and lanterns led to a canopy for the bride, groom, and their families to sit. They performed rituals to ensure stability, prosperity, and a happy future, and the first and most important prayer was for food. Food is considered the foundation and basic necessity to support a relationship and family.

Though I didn't know it at the time, I, appropriately, included four giant pumba onions in their wedding gift. 

Farming may be stressful and unpredictable, but times like these when I'm encouraged to remember how timeless and essential this work is to support all people, I'm heartened and ready for the next planting.

Procession to the temple

Sharing is caring

And yet, my neighbors don't seem to want to share. Someone cut down a swath of grains.

Early harvest... by the animals

I noticed toppled grains in seemingly random patches. A poorly organized attempt at crop circles? As I scratched my head, examining the circles of fallen stalks, heard hooves galloping towards the field. I looked towards the sound, which came from between grape vines to the east. Out came 4 hogs. They halted at the sight of me. I slowly reached for my phone, but as I lifted my hand to take a photo they bolted back in the direction they came from. I suspect they intended to romp in the field. Not this time!

But, I've noticed many missing grain heads. I think deer are eating the grains, or some tall animal. Here's to food security for all, even the animals.

Still, this isn't a buffet and I need to harvest soon. I'm at the bottom of the wait list for Doug of the Mendocino Grain Project to harvest. He's also been delayed because of a recent, unforeseen medical issue. This is why we need more shared equipment and skilled operators. If we want regional food security, we need to grow all the kinds of food we rely on. Grains are a staple, and they are arduous to harvest by hand. Matthew Frey of Frey Vineyards offered to harvest as a back-up, though their combine is quite finnicky. These are some of the reasons why I'm part of the Heritage Grain Alliance: to create more shared infrastructure for small, organic farms to grow heritage grains. Plus, I want to ensure we're growing a diversity of grains, ones suited to this region, ones that reflect all heritages.

Until then, I'll remain at the bottom of the harvest list and stock the animal all you can eat buffet.