Sprout Farm News Letter Aug. 7th 2020 sproutfarm.net open 9-5 daily
Things are going well so far. We're able to find enough corn at various farms to keep up with the demand. We just have to use the crystal ball to make sure we order enough because I can't go off Cape at the end of the afternoon to pick up a few bags in Plympton or Bridgewater. We got a little rain with that squall line but the farms I travel to hardly saw a drop. One farmer said he has to feel the ears and he passes up 50% of the corn. "It's a good thing I planted extra." Yes, a very good thing for everyone.
The sad news this week is that the Big Apple will not be selling peaches wholesale this year. The popularity of locally grown produce has come to Wrentham and they are able to sell all they grow at their farm, so far. That's great for them but I don't know if I will be able to find another source for locally grown peaches. By local I mean within a 70 mile radius. I wish more of that radius was farm land and not salt water. So please be patient and things may change. It looks like the blueberry situation will improve now that the blueberry pickers have arrived in Plympton. Earlier we were told that there would be no blueberries. So please be patient and remember that peaches gain most of their juice the last 48 hours they hang on the tree. Once they're that juicy, they don't ship well. That's why local is better.
Jay is still at war with the deer and James saw one in our back yard when he left the house to go to work last night. It wasn't in the garden but this is too close for comfort. Jay has invested in some hi tech deer gear but I still don't know how you can tell it works except to not see damage in the garden. He hasn't seen deer in the garden since he hung up his sweaty tee shirt but that was on the opposite side of the garden. Sweaty shirts are cheap and I'd be happy to hang them up all along the fence line but boys and toys will win out in this battle.
The deer fence caused a change in traffic patterns and an overlooked section of the garden between the solar panels has produced some of the largest zucchini I've ever seen. I put some in our 'seconds' bin. I couldn't charge full price for a zucchini that size. It's just not right. Even the slicing cukes back there are huge. They are still sweet and not seedy but the size is nothing I'm used to without having them go bitter. I had to taste it to believe it.
It looks like the coin shortage is real. I picked up some rolled quarters this morning and I could hear the teller in the back room sort of singing, "We're going to run out of coin." So it would be great if you can help out with correct change. We'll round the numbers to take care of the odd penny or two but we still prefer cash because there is no other merchant taking a slice of the purchase price.
Finally, kittens. They're ready to go to their new homes on Tuesday. They're eating on their own with just an occasional comfort snack from Mama kitty. They have several speeds; fast forward, neutral, dead stop and reverse. The dead stop stage, where their sleep is so deep they're boneless, can be frightening when they've hidden themselves in a new spot and don't wake up when you call them. Imagine, "Where are the kittens?" at volume. They've taken up residence in my craft room and discovered that a spool of flannel ribbon can be great fun; yards and yards of fun. Still there's no toy that can hold their attention better than a brother or sister's twitchy tail. We bring them out for brief appearances and I was surprised when an enthralled group of older teens told me they had never seen actual kittens before. I'm still trying to figure out a world where kittens are rare.
This week's chore will be to cut back some of the plants in the window boxes. I want to see how fast they recover their flower power or are these annuals a one shot wonder. We'll find out together.
Well that's all for now. I'm still weeding, Jay's tilling and planting and everyone is harvesting. Our little corner of the world is OK and I thank God for that.
See You soon,
Jay and Phyllis Sprout