By G. Michael Dobbs
news@thereminder.com
It doesn’t matter that I haven’t lived on a small farm since 1977. You can take the boy off the farm – or in my case the bearded geezer – but you can’t take the farm out of the boy.
As May speeds by, June lurks with the implied message there is work to be done.
I spent about two years living in Hadley as a little kid. My parents rented a house from the Barstow family in the Hockanum section of the town. The Barstows were and still are a dairy family and I learned a lot from them as a fourth and fifth grader.
One thing the late John Barstow, a generous kindly Yankee farmer, often said was New Englanders don’t plant their gardens until after Memorial Day. John held that belief that in Massachusetts a weather event affecting a planting could occur even as late as the end of May.
And so with June approaching, something clicks in me. I have a small backyard vegetable garden that I’m increasing in size so I have less lawn to mow and the week of May 21, while I’m on vacation, I plan on preparing the plot and planting what I hope will be a bumper crop.
After my father retired from the Air Force in 1968, we started a small farming operation at our home in Granby. My dad had a background in farming, as well as a life-shaping experience of growing up in poverty during the Great Depression. He was dedicated to the idea that his family would never go hungry and when given the opportunity to have a farming operation, he jumped on it.
What started as simply a vegetable garden quickly grew. There were several apple trees on the property and other fruit trees joined them. Raspberries were planted along with blueberries and strawberries.
Along with the fruits and vegetables were chickens for egg production. Then came chickens for meat. We raised our own beef and our own pork. We had two cows for milk, but they were replaced by a herd of dairy goats.
In one wild miscalculation, my dad decided that my mother harbored an inner desire to produce her own yarn and bought a small herd of sheep. My mother never had thought of doing something as labor-intensive as that, but we had the sheep for about a year.
Other animals that made an appearance along the way included a donkey, a pony, a mule and two ducks. My parents found good homes for all these creatures. I think my dad was especially upset about not keeping the mule. Despite having two tractors, he insisted on training the mule to pull a plow. This is not easy. As my father guided the plow, pushing it into the earth, I led the mule up and down the garden.
Naturally I was thinking all the way about why this was necessary.
It didn’t take me too long as a teenager to realize some truths about this experience:
• I believe that everyone should understand what goes into the production of food. If people realize how difficult farming can be and the variables that affect it, perhaps they would realize just how important it is.
• I have great sympathy for pigs. They are intelligent and every one of them we raised was a pleasure. I still feel guilty eating pork.
• Chickens, the other hand, are nasty little creatures that I’m convinced were put on this planet to provide eggs and meat. I have no guilt here.
• Strawberries are the worst things to harvest. Bending over the rows of plants requires a strong back and a constant awareness of where you have to stand. Blueberries and raspberries are far easier a picking experience, although the raspberries do sport thorns.
• Goats are the most wonderful farm animals I experienced. Sweet natured, clean and smart, we used to call them by name into the milking area. They are like dogs who give you milk. I would never eat goat meat.
• And give me a goat barn to clean every day over a cow barn. It’s a lot easier! Trust me, I’ve done both.
My farm experience also included haying, an arduous chore, and a summer of chicken plucking. Although as a teen I dreaded much of this work, as an adult I’m glad I experienced it.
To this day, barn smells – feed, hay and animals – is a comforting aroma that summons mostly good memories.
G. Michael Dobbs is the managing editor of Reminder Publications and Prime’s local columnist.