• Brussels Sprouts
• Celery
• Rosemary
• Head Lettuce
• Shallots
• Parsnips
• Yellow Potatoes
• Rosalba Radicchio
• Autumn Frost Winter Squash
• Cleo's Gourds!

Smooth sailing this week as we pushed through our big Thanksgiving harvest, thanks to easy weather and our all-star farm team. The delivery van has been on the road since 8 am, dropping CSA totes at the farm, in Port Orford, Bandon and Coos Bay. Be sure you pick up your produce today! One final reminder about pickup times:

• For members who pick up at the Farm and at Coos Head Food Co-op, it's business as usual: same time, same place today.
• For Bandon Members: Pick-up is on Wednesday, November 22nd between 10:30 and 5 pm at Well Within
• For Port Orford Members: Pick-up is on Wednesday, November 22nd between 8:30 and 5 pm at the Port Orford Co-op (please try to pick up before 11 am or after 3 pm to avoid congestion on the loading dock at POCC)
• REMEMBER: NO CSA PICKUP on SATURDAY, 11/25 in BANDON or PORT ORFORD!

My favorite radicchio is in the share this week: Rosalba. In the past I've described it like a quinceañera dress - layers and layers of pink petticoat. But this year, a new name: it's Barbie salad.

Wait, correction: it's Barbie Salad and it's Ken Salad (because some of my favorite men love eating Rosalba as much as me and my girlfriends). And if you haven't seen the new Barbie movie yet and are wondering what in the world I'm talking about, here's your very un-pop, very un-pink, very un-Barbie farmer telling you to go rent it this holiday weekend! Here on our women-owned and run farm, we freaking loved that movie.

To go alongside your pretty Rosalba, you have our annual dig of ugly Thanksgiving parsnips. Actually, not quite as ugly this year, and whatever blemishes you encounter are only skin deep, so get out your veggie peeler and make 'em shine! I always plug this one recipe, which has become an unshakeable tradition on our Thanksgiving table: Roasted Winter Squash and Parsnips with Maple Syrup Glaze and Marcona Almonds.

The Autumn Frost winter squash is a specialty butternut, equally well-suited to baking, roasting, or souping. It has a fantastic apple-y flavor that I love, with more complexity than a standard butternut.

And for the first time ever in the history of the Valley Flora CSA, there's something inedible in your share this week: Cleo's whimsical gourds! Cleo is my 12 year old daughter and she's been growing and selling decorative gourds for a number of years. She had a bumper crop this year and I figured they'd make for some lovely adornment on your Thanksgiving table. I bought a few hundred of her choice specimens (every single one is different and unique) to help fund her miniature donkey breeding (and feeding) project. 

All of us at Valley Flora are wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving, with gratitude that you are a part of our little farm on Floras Creek. Thank you!

• Dazzling Blue Lacinato Kale
• Carrots
• Fennel
• Italian Parsley
• Head Lettuce
• Red Onions
• Mini Daikon Radish
• Butternut Squash

On Rotation

• Cauliflower
• Romanesco
• Tomatoes

November and Beyond on the Farm...

Happy first day of November! We are six weeks from the end of our 28-week CSA season, and although we are headed into the final chapter there is still a lot of good food yet to come! In hopes of ensuring that everyone continues to get their CSA produce until the very end, here are a few important dates for you add to your calendar:

• November 22 (the Wednesday before Thanksgiving): we will be delivering ALL CSA totes to ALL pick-up locations, to ensure that everyone has their produce in time for Thanksgiving. If you usually pick up on Saturday in Bandon or Port Orford, your pick-up for that week will be on 11/22 instead of 11/25 (no CSA delivery on 11/25). We'll send out more info about this schedule switcheroo the week before Thanksgiving.
• December 6th and 9th: This will be our final week of CSA deliveries for the season (12/6 for VF and Coos Bay pick-ups; 12/9 for Bandon and Port Orford).

And for those of you who want to keep the party going, we will be offering Winter CSA Shares again this year. Our winter season runs from mid-January to mid-May on an every-other week delivery schedule (10 CSA deliveries over 20 calendar weeks). We have limited space in the winter - shares are capped at 60 members - so we give first dibs to everyone who is part of our current, 2023 CSA membership. If there are still spots available after our current membership has had a chance to sign up, we open up the winter sign-ups to the general public. If you are a current CSA member, look for a direct email from us in the next week or so with sign-up details!

Heads up, I will not be sending out a farm newsletter next week (I have a 15-year anniversary to celebrate with my darlin' dear Danny!).

Enjoy that big butternut squash this week. If ever there was soup-making weather in the forecast, here it comes! :)

• Gold Beets
• Carrots
• Head Lettuce
• Yellow Onions
• Painted Purple Potatoes
• Spaghetti Squash
• Black Winter Radishes
• Eggplant
• Tomatoes

On Rotation:

• Broccoli
• Cauliflower
• Romanesco

All kinds of new things showing up in the totes these days: purple cauliflower, black radishes, spaghetti squash, painted purple potatoes, and gold beets (so sweet!)!!

The black winter radishes, aka "black Spanish radish," look like a bunch of charcoal briquettes topped with pretty green leaves. They have the skin of a rhino and some serious kick. I saw a little piece online about black radishes, entitled: "Ode to a Difficult Food" and thought, "eep, time to do some CSA hand-holding this week....," especially when I got to the part where the author writes:

Thanks to heirloom seeds and small farms, I’ve enjoyed many types of radishes in the last few years, realizing that they vary so greatly from the crisp, magenta balls that recall fishing bobbers. These include the striking watermelon radish, dense and spicy Chinese green radish, elegant French breakfast radish, finger-shaped purple and white radishes, and smaller varieties of daikon radish with mint-greenish shading at the top of the root... None put up more barriers to being loved than the coarse-surfaced, rotund black radish. These stringently bitter bulbs are coated in a thick skin that resembles a rhinocerous. Their dense, fibrous flesh has a fierce lick of horseradish. Why the hell did anyone cultivate this, when the cheery sparkler radish was just as easy to grow?

The author goes on to answer their own question, historically, by explaining that black radishes were great survival food in Medieval times in Europe because they store well through the winter and can squat outside in the ground through the harshest freezing weather, thanks to "their thick, tar-like mask of skin [that] protects the icicle-white flesh like armor built for function over fashion."

So WHY are we growing them at Valley Flora, circa 2023? I'm not sure I have a great answer to that question, other than: they looked cool in the seed catalogue? Which is also another way of saying "diversity! diversity! diversity!" Also: sorry?

Given that they might too easily fall into the "difficult" category among all your CSA foods, and thereby land too easily in the compost pile, here are the previously quoted author's top three recommendations for getting them down your gullet:

1. Chopped and roasted with olive oil, sea salt and chili flakes

I don’t know too many root vegetables that don’t taste great like this, and the crisped peaks of the wedges are delightful contrast to the softer, mellowed flesh inside. I preheated the oven to 400 degrees, then peeled and chopped the root to equal-sized pieces. Coated lightly with olive oil, sea salt, and flakes of chili, they were roasted about 20 minutes, with one break to toss them around in the pan in between.

2. Shredded raw with apples, carrots, lemon and mint

Black radishes are a bit spicier and tougher than most types, but combined with the sweetness of carrots and tartness of fresh apples, they’re a pleasant complement. I used lots of fresh lemon juice and let it soak in for a while, along with good olive oil, and finished it with a few mint sprigs for extra refreshment.

3. Roasted in skins, peeled, and mashed with butter

A spin on Mike’s suggestion, with simply butter, salt and pepper. This could lend a hint of flavor if blended with mashed potatoes, or it could be the start of a creamy radish soup if simmered with stock. To concentrate its flavor more, I roasted the radishes in their skins, sliced in half flesh side-down on a pan (like I would a winter squash). After a good 40 minutes or so, the flesh shrinks back and allows the skin to be easily peeled off the bulb once cool (like with beets).

Pickling will also beat them into submission.

I could be convinced not to grow them again, but they just look so weird and spooky...kinda perfect around Halloween.

Oh! That's it! You can hand them out as trick-or-treat "candy!" As mentioned, they'll store in your fridge well into 2024, so no problem keeping them until October 31st!

• Curly Parsley
• Leeks
• Sweet Peppers from our 2023 Pepper Trials:
  • Rio Grande - colossal, thick-walled green-to-red pepper
  • Petit Marseillais - small, thin-skinned yellow frying pepper
  • Tatli ücburun - small, thin-skinned red frying pepper
• Head Lettuce
• Tomatoes
• Hakurei turnips
• Acorn Winter Squash
  • Starry Night
  • Night Shift

On Rotation:

• Eggplant
• Broccoli
• Romanesco 

2023 Sweet Pepper Trials in Full Swing: the Story of a Pepper Named "Glow"

Joy and heartbreak are built into the fabric of farming in roughly equal parts. Crop failures lay you flat but a surprise rainbow arcing over the farm lifts you back up. You delight in the miraculous germination of seeds and then find yourself crestfallen when you walk into the greenhouse one morning to discover that all your seedling babies were decapitated by a mouse the night before. You fall head-over-heels in love with a specific variety, and then the seed company discontinues it without warning for no apparent reason.

That last bit is the story of "Glow," my all-time favorite sweet pepper, which we discovered years ago after doing a round of outdoor pepper trials. Outdoor pepper production is possible at the farm, but given our cooler climate we have to be selective and choose shorter days-to-maturity (DTM) varieties (ones that will ripen in, say, 60 days as opposed to 90 days). This means that heavy-walled bell peppers (which can take at least a month longer to color up) are not so much our forte, but Italian and roasting types thrive at Valley Flora.

Bets does most of the pepper production on the farm in high tunnels, which gives her a month+ jump on the season. She starts picking some of her indoor peppers as early as July, with the peak of pepper season hitting by September (ahem, as you may have noticed in your CSA share the past month). But meanwhile, I also have a smoldering passion for peppers (the colors! the flavors! the mind-blowing array of genetic diversity! the snap of them coming off the plant; the plunk of them landing in the bin; the snack-time perfection of biting into a juicy ripe pepper anytime, anywhere!). As a result, I usually plant a bunch of outdoor peppers each season, in order to have my own endless supply of pepper snacking AND to see if I can discover any new varieties that do well in our coastal conditions, specifically outdoors. It was one of those trials that led us to "Glow," a variety that, true to its name, shone forth with everything I crave in a sweet pepper: juicy, flavorful, sweet, productive, early and orange. (What can I say, I've got a thing for orange peppers above all.) Not only was Glow the first to ripen of any of the outdoor peppers, it was also the last to give up its final fruit, often yielding into November. 

We all started growing it and Glow became a staple variety in Bets' hoophouses, in my outdoor beds, and we turned lots of farmer friends onto it as well (including friends who farmed in much warmer climates and didn't need a "cheater" pepper with short DTM like Glow). Nevertheless, Glow became their favorite variety as well, eclipsing the rest of their pepper lineup with its beauty, reliability, flavor, and juiciness.

And then, just like that, it disappeared from the seed catalogues this year. None of our seed reps could explain why, and we couldn't source it anywhere on the big world wide web. Because it's a hybrid we also couldn't save our own seed and expect to get the same pepper. It was like losing a friend.

And so were born two connected initiatives: The Great Pepper Trial of 2023, and my first-ever seed breeding project to try to dehybridize Glow into a stable, open-pollinated variety. 

The Great Pepper Trial of 2023, currently in full swing, is an effort to try to identify a substitute variety for Glow (and an excuse to try out a bunch of other peppers we've never grown as well). Jen, who joined us last spring through Rogue Farm Corps, has taken on the pepper trials as her special project and is waist deep in Capsicum annum these days: harvesting, recording yield data, sorting, making observations and setting up taste tests with the crew (October is the peak of outdoor pepper season for us, which times out well for the CSA totes as greenhouse pepper production peters out). We're glad to announce that we think we've found a temporary replacement for Glow, a variety called Corinto Arancia (slightly smaller and less lobed than Glow, but similarly early and productive with great flavor and sweetness). We've also been having fun with a dozen or so other varieties, some of which are showing up in your share this week. You've got a couple of frying peppers - one from France and one from Turkey. Thin-walled peppers are not well appreciated in the States, but you'll find that they shine in culinary applications: great for seasoning rice, sauteeing, stuffing, pickling, and frying. 

Simultaneously, my Glow dehybridization project is underway. We grew out our last 100 seeds of Glow F1 that we had on hand and planted them in isolation in our far-west field, a quarter mile from any other pepper plants. I've been selectively harvesting the ripe fruit for seed-saving, and next year we'll grow out the F2 generation. It will likely be a year of dramatic genetic instability, when all kinds of traits are expressed. My job will be to select for the best Glow-like traits I'm looking to preserve and save the seed again, with the end goal being to stabilize the genetics to the point that our saved seed reliably produces a pepper like Glow. It's a process that can take anywhere from a few years to fifteen. For the love of a pepper, stay tuned for the next decade! And in the meantime, you'll likely be enjoying Corinto Arancia in your Harvest Basket this time next year :)

P.S. Enjoy the first of the winter squash, leeks and romanesco this week! The two acorn squash varieties are also the result of ongoing variety trials at VF. Let us know which one you like better: stripey Starry Night or the ink-black Night Shift!

• Beets
• Napa Cabbage - light in texture, mild in flavor. Makes a great raw slaw or salad, or cooks up in infinite ways. Try this "Melting Napa Cabbage" recipe!
• Purple Carrots
• Sweet Peppers, LOTS of sweet peppers!
• Tomatoes
• Cipollini Onions - pungent when raw, incredibly sweet when caramelized.
• Serrano and Jalapeño Peppers

On Rotation:

• Eggplant
• Cilantro

A Man and a River: Grieving them Both

Many, many of us are preoccupied by and grieving the fire on Elk River right now. For those of you who don't know the Elk, it's an incredible place on earth: a steep watershed full of old growth forest and cold crystalline water, home to wild salmon and marbled murrelets. If you were familiar with spectacular Opal Creek in the Cascades (before it burned catastrophically a couple years ago), the Elk is the Opal Creek of the southcoast. For many of us, it's a pilgrimage kind of place - where you go for renewal and reconnection to the wild. It's the place where I retreat to recharge, the place that fills me back up with life force, the place that I'm always melancholy to leave after a weekend of hot rocks and cold turquoise water and ripe thimbleberries. I spent large chunks of my childhood up the Elk River - camping for days at favorite swimming holes, and even rafting sections of the river during high water in the winter (imagine champagne bubble flood waters - clear, not muddy like the rest of our coastal streams in winter). We've swum/crawled/scrambled every mile of the canyon from Butler Bar to the fish hatchery, exploring like wet-suit clad river otters. It is a place beloved, and currently engulfed in flames.

The Anvil fire started a couple weeks ago with the rumble of midnight thunder. I remember waking up to the sound of it, then the flashes of lightning, and thinking "Please let that be to the west, over the ocean. Not inland." My very next thought lying there in bed was, "Jim. Oh no. Jim is gone. Who will protect the Elk?"

Jim Rogers, lifelong guardian of the Elk, had died just a week earlier due to complications related to Parkinsons disease. I had just learned of his passing, feeling the loss of him and my dad as a dual blow (they were friends, and two peas in a conservation pod who worked together to gain protection for the Elk). Sometimes described as a “logger-turned-environmentalist,” Jim started his career as a young forester working for the timber industry. In his timber survey work, he recognized what a special place the Elk was and turned his energy towards conservation, at a time when most of the Coast Range was being leveled by clearcut logging. From his little cabin on the Elk, to Salem, to Washington, D.C., he circled tirelessly to organize political support for protecting the watershed. Over his lifetime, that unflagging dedication to Elk River led to the designation of two wilderness areas—the Grassy Knob (1984) and Copper Salmon (2009), and to designation of the Elk River (1988) and its tributaries (2019) as "Wild and Scenic." All told, he protected more than 30,000 acres of old-growth forest and over 75 miles of wild and scenic river (if ever there was an example of the oft-quoted Margaret Mead quote, Jim was at the center of it: "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”). 

I laid there listening to the rumble-flash of the sky, hoping Jim's legacy was not in harm's reach, trying not to worry myself out of a good night's sleep.

But by mid-morning there were reports of four spot fires up the Elk. Fortunately we had a stretch of high humidity and light winds on the heels of the Labor Day rain, but that all changed last week as temps rose and winds picked up. The fire has grown to almost 15,000 acres, many residents on the lower Elk have been evacuated, air quality is abysmal to the south, and it's considered 0% contained. As grim as all of that feels, the forecast has me hanging onto hope. The growing promise of rain next week can't come soon enough (even though in the farming realm we are maximizing every last shred of daylight to get potatoes, winter squash, and dry beans out of the field as quickly as possible while we have dry weather).

I have spent quite a bit of time in new wildfire burns the past few years on my horsepacking trips: the Trinity Alps, Jefferson Wilderness, the Gifford-Pinchot, the Wallowas. Fire scars are a ubiquitous - and ever-dominant - element in the landscape nowadays with climate change. Every time I enter a recent burn on horseback there is an emotional reckoning - so much sadness for the cool, dark, beautiful forest that is no longer there, but also amazement as life resurges out of the char and ash. Last year in Jefferson, two years after the huge fires that almost reached Portland and scorched Opal Creek to cinder, we saw fir seedlings 6 inches tall, wildflowers, early-succession shrubs - the thinnest scrim of green against a black backdrop of burn. You had to look, but it was there. The forest that returns - in Jefferson Wilderness, and on the Elk - will probably look different than the one it replaces, especially as conditions get hotter and drier. And it will never be a mature, towering old growth forest in my lifetime again. But maybe for my kids, my grandkids. I would like to think that they might head up the Elk on a summer day 50 years from now and see a river canyon filled with green, shading that incredible clear water. And before they leap off the high rock at Jumpoff Joe's, give thanks to Jim Rogers for the legacy he left to us all.

To learn more about Jim's life, there is a great Oregon Field Guide episode about him from about 10 years ago: https://watch.opb.org/video/oregon-field-guide-jim-rogers/

To read his full obituary, go to https://www.westrumfuneralservice.com/obituary/James-Rogers
 
A celebration of Jim's life event will be held on Saturday, October 28 at 2pm in Port Orford, location TBD.

Pray for rain. Lots of it.

• Collard Greens
• Carrots
• Sweet Corn
• Cucumbers
• Head Lettuce
• Walla Walla Sweets
• Sweet Peppers
• Zucchini
• Tomatoes

On Rotation:

• Eggplant
• Heirloom tomatoes

The Halfway Mark!

We are 14 weeks into our 28-week CSA season, tipping headlong into the peak of the late summer harvest: tomatoes by the bucketload, peppers by the bin-full, eggplant spilling out of totes, apples and melons making their first appearance. On Tuesdays and Fridays, we find ourselves staggering out of the corn patch under the weight of 80-pound harvest backpacks overflowing with fat ears of corn. This is that moment when my countertop is covered in a glorious rainbow of tomatoes and peppers, and making dinner is as simple as cutting them all up, tossing in some spiced chickpeas and pouring a lemony dressing over the top (my go-to Wednesday night meal plan for late August/September/early October: Spiced Chickpeas and Fresh Vegetable Salad from Ottolenghi).

But simultaneously while we revel in the glory of late summer produce, our every spare moment is now turning towards bringing in the storage crops. We are at once bears (gorging in the moment to put on fat for a long winter's nap) and squirrels (racing around maniacally stashing food for winter). All of the onions and shallots are out of the field as of last week, curing in the warm environment of our propagation greenhouse right now. Once the tops have dried down completely, we have hours of onion cleaning work ahead of us: clipping the tops and the root hairs, filling bins to a standard weight, and stashing them in our climate-controlled dry room for long-term storage.

We begin digging storage potatoes in earnest tomorrow, with the help of the horses who will undercut and "lift" the beds with our horsedrawn potato digger. The crew will fall in behind them, filling bins with red, yellow, and purple potatoes that will will get stashed in our new walk-in cooler (built just for storage potatoes, beets and other root crops this year). If yields are on par with past years, we have about 10,000 pounds of spuds sitting underground right now, and every last one of them will be sorted, lifted, stacked, washed and packed by hand. (If you join our Winter CSA, you will be still be enjoying VF potatoes next April.)

And also near on the horizon, winter squash harvest. Way out in Molly (that's the name of our western-most field), we have a beautiful half acre of winter squash finishing off. It's been a great squash-growing season this year and my latest fieldwalk revealed big over-sized Delicatas, bright orange Kabochas, deep-dark Acorns, sunny Spaghettis, and an abundance of buff-tan Butternuts. It's a good thing we're all farm-fit, cuz the squash deadlifting is about to begin. It's a physical test for everyone, including our little 1/2 ton flatbed farm Toyota :)

All to say, even though summer is waning, school is resuming, the days are shortening - we're only halfway through the season and there is much, much more still to come. Your CSA tote will continue to get heavier and denser (watch out in October, whoa!). The one good thing about the days getting shorter from the tired farmer's perspective is that there's a little more time in the evening to cook, at least come November. But for now, the marathon continues: it's mile 14 and we're digging deep. Thanks for all your cheering; it keeps us motivated and inspired.

• Bunch Beets
• Carrots
• Sweet Corn!
• Cucumbers
• Walla Walla Sweets
• Strawberries
• Zucchini
• Tomatoes

On Rotation:

• Purple Peppers

Corn, sweet corn! It's on this week, our first big pick of a bicolor aptly named "Sweetness." We plant five successions of sweet corn, so you'll be seeing it on a regular basis between now and mid-September. And hark! The first tomatoes of the season! Those two little red slicers in your tote portend one of the best moments of the season, when all the much-anticipated late summer Solanums collide: peppers, tomatoes and eggplant. Combine them with your zucchini and onions, some basil, throw in a little salt, and you have one of our favorite meals, ratatouille. My mom makes vats of it in September and freezes it so that she can thaw out a little bit of summer and eat it over polenta come winter. For the time being, we're too busy farming to do much cooking (uh, salad and quesadillas for dinner anyone?), but we hope you're making the most of the VF bounty in your own kitchen. We'll live vicariously for the time being, and look forward to that thawed ratatouille once the pace slows in the field.

Thanks for giving us a reason to grow all this food!

• Green Beans
• Purple and Orange Carrots
• Cucumbers
• Curly Parsley
• Red Long of Tropea torpedo onions
• Strawberries
• Zucchini

On Rotation

• Lettuce
• Kale

Strawberries are back in the Harvest Basket after a two week hiatus! We've been pulling teeth trying to get enough berries out of the patch this year: yields have been two to three time lower than usual - in spite of giving the plants even more TLC than usual - and the bronzing episode we went through in July was demoralizingly long and widespread. Fortunately we've popped out the other side of the bronzing and the berries are back to being shiny, bright, and sweeter than ever these days. It also appears that we're having a little bump in production as of this week, so although we had to disappoint all of our wholesale accounts we were able to get the berries back into the CSA totes, harvest for the farmstand, and give a couple more beds over to the u-pick. Predicting the future on a farm is usually a terrible idea, prone to jinxing the whole outcome, but could it be that August/September might just be when our strawberry season finally hits its stride this year?

A depressed strawberry season has big economic ramifications for the farm, because even though the berries only occupy a humble half acre of space, they contribute disproportionately to the bottom line. Low yields make us ever-grateful for the abundance elsewhere on the farm, all of which helps make up for the strawberry income shortfall we're experiencing this year. But it also begs the question, what's going on out there in the berry patch to cause such a drastic reduction in yields? I've been casting about looking for answers this past month and from all the other farmers, gardeners and university strawberry experts I've spoken with, it appears to be a West-Coast-wide phenomenon. Even the mainstream commercial growers in California are having a rough year.

I got on the phone with Mark Bolda, a cooperative extension farm advisor with the University of California (and widely considered to be the THE guru when it comes to all thing strawberry), last week and he described a pretty grim season on the California coast. His theory is that our whopper of a winter - with so much prolonged rain - leached out too much nitrogen from the soil so the strawberry plants (which have a long and intense production season from June through September) are deficient in N and are firing on one cylinder instead of four. He said that among his growers on the Central Coast, those who increased their application of summertime Nitrogen are doing better than those who stuck to their standard fertility plan. It so happens that we've been feeding our plants twice the usual amount of organic fish emulsion since June (we run it through our drip irrigation lines every other week to stimulate the soil biology and support the plants). The problem is, there is a 6-7 week lag-time from application to ripe fruit (you get a flowering response from the strawberry plant two weeks after application, and then it's 4-5 weeks from flower to ripe fruit). So if we started doubling our rate of fish emulsion in mid-June and it's now early August, there's your 6-7 weeks. All to say, maybe we have reason to be hopeful that the berry patch is kicking into gear at last and will be more productive for the remainder of the season. Most of the plants look pretty healthy and vigorous - save for the zone that had to endure standing water for many weeks this winter during the worst of the weather - so I chose to be optimistic (it's kinda your only choice in farming, really....in fact, if there's one thing we farmers have in common, it's something that should be called "Perverse Optimism Disorder"). How else could we play this huge gamble each year?

Long story short, enjoy that little pint of strawberrie this week AND stay hopeful there will be more!