You’re Invited! -- Please Join us as CSA share members in 2014, Please Help us Outreach to the Community Now!
Please join us in 2014! We are currently accepting share members to join us this season. If you are new to CSA, new to Good Work Farm, or have questions about joining, please contact us at email@example.com to learn more about us and our growing practices.
Ready to join? Click here to download a membership form.
PLEASE HELP US reach a broader selection of the community. Please contact us if you can support our marketing efforts by hanging up a Good Work Farm CSA flier at your place of work, place of worship,
school, or other community center. We can drop-off fliers to your home if you have a place where they can be viewed by your community.
Pick-up Times Announced! Pick-ups will be Tuesdays and Fridays from 2-7 p.m. (Location TBA soon!) If you have already sent in a Commitment Form, please reply with your desired pick-up day.
“And I am in that delicious and important place, roaring with laughter, full of earth-praise.”
Mary Oliver, from Foolishness? No, It’s Not
Anton and I are engaged in something which Anton refers to as “computer farming.” It is not particularly fun or refreshing, and it is much harder to self-motivate when performing acts such as the movement of numbers on excel spreadsheets than the movement of a body in a field of silence and sun, engaging with the earth, growing food in that most tactile of ways. But this planning is necessary, and what the time calls forth.
In the warmth of an unexpected winter thaw, yesterday I put on overalls, gathered a cabin-fevered dog and our bucket of compost, and went to go wander around last season’s Good Work Farm fields: peek at overwintering plants, wonder after the remnants of green leafy vegetables, and be in a place where a dog can be a dog, and a woman can be a woman. Warm air, sloppy, saturated, soggy fields, and a few remaining rotting frosted kale stalks and cabbage heads welcomed me; it felt good to amble around a piece of land left open for the growing of food, a place in which I am most familiar and content. I moved back the thick bed of
straw to see what garlic stalks might be poking through the muddy earth—blanched pale yellow from sunlessness under their protective blanket; I moved through the rows of crops to see if any edible leaf miraculously made it through negative six degrees and could be salvaged for dinner . None did.
Then, we are also in the beginning, middle, or end of an unmapped process called Buying Horses. A process of adjudication and feeling, a process of carefully calculating pros and cons, and then listening to our oh-so-quiet-and-indecipherable intuition to tell us which horses we so deeply, gutturally, unambiguously, connect with.
So far we have visited, wondered about, and driven three teams, with unlimited more to meet, drive, and
discuss before we decide on the pair who will be our work partners for this Spring, and coming years. Buying horses is full of unknowns, for what can you uncover in an hour or even a day driving and working a team, when it will take the better part of a decade to learn the intricacies of a horse? But, we accept these limitations and try to decipher what we can: Do they pick-up their feet well? Are they responsive, engaged, slow enough for beginners? Do they have experience with all farm machinery? Are they short enough to lift harness over their backs with ease? Are they healthy, sound in (mind and) body? The process is something of a job interview—testing out a working partner who we will rely on so heavily and definitely—and something like dating—finding The Ones who we will be with in sickness and health, good times and bad, early mornings and late nights. And so, possibly, probably, any of these three teams could have worked with us and for us, but without a firm affirmative clarity, we are still searching, still seeking that stout, sturdy, “beginner’s team” who will readily accept their bridles, pick-up their feet, carry in the harvest, stand steady in the field, and help us do the good work of food growing.
In anticipation of what may come,
Lisa and Anton
I Go Down to the Shore
I go down to the shore in the morning
and depending on the hour the waves
are rolling in or moving out,
and I say, oh, I am miserable,
what should I do? And the sea
says in its lovely voice:
“Excuse me, I have work to do.”
Palak Salajama: Purple Top Turnips and Spinach
I made this tonight from last season’s frozen spinach, frozen whole tomatoes, and purple-top turnips from our winter CSA.
1 T butter and 1 T olive oil (x 2)
1 qt bag frozen spinach, thawed, or equivalent fresh (2-3 pounds)
2 large tomatoes, whole, frozen, and cut into chunks (or you could use dried, canned, or fresh)
3 medium-sized purple-top turnips
1 medium-large onion, sliced thin
1 clove garlic, minced
1 t grated fresh ginger
2 t coriander, ground
2 t cumin, ground
1 t turmeric
salt to taste
1 dried hot chili or cayenne pepper, or red pepper flakes (optional)
1 C heavy cream
1. Peel rough skin from turnips, remove tops and bottoms and brown parts, and cut into 1/2 inch square chunks. In large cook-pot with lid, heat butter and oil on medium heat. Add turnips and cook, covered, for about 15 minutes, until soft, stirring regularly. If turnips start to brown too deeply, add a few T of water or stock.
2. Heat butter and oil on medium heat in frying pan, add onions, stirring regularly until browned. Add garlic and ginger. Add to turnips. Add spices and chunks of tomato. Add spinach. Cook uncovered, stirring regularly, about 5-10 minutes. Add heavy cream. Salt to taste. Serve over rice or with Indian Flatbreads.
Anton M. Shannon