Arlington Gardens

We’ve taken advantage of the recent dry spell to work on our drains. Well-drained fields are critical, as water can accumulate in undrained patches, a real headache when planting time rolls along. Some fields, given their soil composition and texture, drain naturally. Others need a little help. Not so long ago (in the 70s and early 80s), field drainage was government-subsidized. But times have changed, and drainage work now costs a farmer an average of $1500 an acre. Our vegetable fields were drained back in the 80s, but increasingly large field puddles meant these ‘old’ drains were no longer doing their job. We decided it was time to call in the ‘drain doctor’ – who, through a mix of art and science, with a backhoe and a long metal rod, digs here and there, locates drainpipes, joints, collectors and the culprits – i.e. rootballs and sundry other obstructive materials which can greatly limit the effectiveness of an entire drainage system. Doctor, diviner, miracle worker – agricultural drain specialists work intuitively, often without the original drain plans. When you have a good drain doctor, you count your blessings…in farming, small miracles can make a big difference.

Too much change in just a week. While winter never really settled in this year, at least the chill was sufficient to remind us that we do live in Canada, after all. But over the past few days, ‘place your bets, all bets are off!’ a climate croupier might say. We’ve gone from winter woollens to shorts and t-shirts in the past 48 hours, and there’s more record-breaking highs to come this week. We took pictures of ice floes in the river late last week; in a couple of days we’ll be posting pictures of our garlic sprouting in the fields. All this to say that we are wondering what spring will look like this year. Climate Cassandras, we cannot resist the temptation to predict at least another snowstorm – Mother Nature may still exact a price for the balmy winter we’ve had…and so, for the time being, we’ll take refuge in the greenhouse, watching the cloudless skies for signs of snow…geese.

Photo is of June Afternoon, by Konstantine Rodko, from the cover of the 1991 edition of Trente arpents by Flammarion.

Trente arpents ( translated into English as « Thirty Acres, » but « Twenty-Five » would have been more accurate) is the tragic story of the rise and fall of turn-of-the-last-century farmer Euchariste Moisan, as told by québécois novelist Ringuet (Philippe Panneton, b. 1895 – d. 1960). Contemporary farmers can still identify with Moisan, who, by dint of immeasurable effort, hard work and selfless sacrifice over many years, became a prosperous farmer in his 50s. But life’s rewards are not always proportionate to the efforts expended, and a nefarious combination of misfortune and poor judgment lead Moisan to his downfall, the loss of his farm, and an end-of-life exile in a New England town. Ringuet captures the essence of the farmer’s soul, his deep attachment to the land and the changing seasons, and his innermost conviction that nothing is earned without effort and sacrifice. Ringuet masterfully portrays Euchariste Moisan and other characters in the novel, endearing them to the reader who hopes for a happy ending, despite the unfolding tragedy. The author’s knowledge of things agricultural is impressive, and readers with some familiarity with life on the farm will be surprised by his references to activities and ways of doing which persist today, despite years of mechanisation (in the 30s, farmwork was with (real) horsepower, without man-made chemicals and with lots and lots of elbow grease). The most surprising aspect of the book is its literary style, which ranges from a sophisticated, almost academic, prose to the rough joual of its protagonists. Many of the expressions he quotes are still popular today. The book ends almost ruefully, as Ringuet makes the reader share Moisan’s regret that his life has not ended as he had intended. Destiny has decided otherwise, as he loses everything and is forced into American exile instead of a peaceful existence on his land, surrounded by his loved ones – a truly tragic end for a man whose first  (and possibly only) true love was his land.

We should have known this before embarking on our agricultural adventure, but it is only recently that we learned that the patron saint of gardeners is Saint Fiacre (Fiachra is an ancient pre-Christian name from Ireland). Apparently he was as effective at healing haemorrhoids as he was at growing turnips. Saint Fiacre, represented more often than not holding a spade, was long a popular patron saint. Although he lived in Ireland and France in the 7^th century A.D., his popularity surged in the 10^th century. His interest in things agricultural manifested itself, or so the story goes, when he founded a monastery and gardens, the bounty of which was shared with beggars, passersby and travelers. Legend also has it that the Bishop Faro de Meaux allowed him as much land as he might entrench in one day with a furrow, so Fiacre turned up the earth with the point of his staff, toppling trees and uprooting briers and weeds. It is this staff which morphed over time into his gardener’s spade. Finally, there is the bit about the origin of the French word ‘fiacre,’ used to designate a small horse-drawn four-wheeled carriage. This term is attributed to the fact that the Hotel de Saint Fiacre in Paris rented carriages beginning in the late 17^th century. People who had no idea who Fiacre was referred to the small coaches for hire as “fiacres”. And so it is that the patron saint of gardeners, almost miraculously it seems, became the patron saint of … taxi drivers.

With the mercury dipping below 20 degrees Celsius in these parts, we can speak in earnest of winter delights (albeit sans snow). Our cold room is empty, the farm implements are stored and the few chores remaining to be completed without getting frostbitten have been ticked off our list. And so we resume writing, after a brief hiatus, to keep you posted on what’s up. We are in the thick of preparing for the coming year, having spent the past two weeks compulsively flipping through seed catalogues to place our seed orders. While at first glance tedious – vegetable varieties seem infinite, the seed selection process is a portent of hope. We revisit the past season, our successful, and not-so-successful, plantings, and vow next season will be our best yet as we select a better variety of a given vegetable. Because, as well you must understand – it’s never the farmer’s fault… Our orders have finally been sent off.  We should receive our seeds in January; they’ll be kept cool and dry, like garlic, until we start up the greenhouse, towards the end of March.

In the meantime, Arlington Gardens wishes you a happy holiday season and a healthy 2012. See you next year!

A week ago we held our first formal farm event for our CSA members, a méchoui . The weather couldn’t have been more perfect, after a couple of weeks of on-again, off-again rain – a balmy, sun-filled afternoon with nary a cloud in sight.

We hadn’t really planned it when we chose the date, but Sunday, September 11, was also the 9^th edition of the annual ‘portes ouvertes sur les fermes du Québec’ event. Nearly 100 people showed up at Arlington Gardens for our méchoui and a tour of the farm, while more than 126,000 visited farms across Quebec the same day.

For those of you wondering where the term méchoui comes from, Wikipedia offers the following brief explanation: “In the cuisine of Northern Africa, méchoui is a whole sheep or a lamb spit-roasted on a barbecue. The word comes from the Arabic word šawa,which means ‘grilled, roasted’. This dish is very popular in North Africa.” There was no question we had to do a méchoui as our first farm happening…A banal corn roast just wouldn’t cut it. In addition to the de rigueur spit-roasted sheep, we also had ham hocks roasting in the same maple-burning oven.  Libations were abundant and varied – ranging from wine to water and everything in between. The formula was ‘potluck,’ so guests came laden with delicious vegetarian and side dishes, and scrumptious desserts.

A fun time was had by all – or so we’re told – and we’ve already started thinking about next year’s event: maybe a déjeuner sur l’herbe on the river’s edge…