Throughout this past Saturday at the Downtown Westminster Farmer’s Market, either Maggie or I, or more often both of us, could be witnessed with arms upstretched desperately clasping onto the metal frame of the canopy that covers the tables of our stand. Why? Because of the wind, those often quick, violent bursts of air that ripped through the market every couple of minutes, or so. Now I realize that many veterans of the market scene will question as to why no weights are secured so as to keep the canopy secure. Yes, I know, that would be the prudent thing to do, and I will get to that… some day. But that is not the issue of this entry.
The issue here is those strong wind gusts that are so common in the month of October in the mid-Maryland locale in which the farm resides, and the farmer’s market as well. Over the years, the recurrence of this seemingly malevolent force of nature has been accepted as what it is, a normality for this time of year. Now, once the temperature drops, it is assumed that heavy winds will soon tear through the terrain to upend anything not securely fastened to the ground. Nonetheless, there will inevitably be quite a few aspects of the farm that are not “secured” and whatever was left unprotected will suffer immeasurable harm from the unforgiving blasts of autumn wind.
Years ago, while I was farming a remote area of land, these October winds were first realized. For sure, they had always made an appearance, only back then it was not realized as a yearly occurrence. At the time, I had two acres of organic produce neatly protected by a deer fence. As the temperature dropped, mesh row covers were placed over the more fragile cool weather crops in order to protect them from the coming frost. The one hundred foot rows of lettuce, broccoli, pac choi and others were painstakingly covered by the white cloth, which was “secured” to the ground using large rocks. The details for installing the row covers will be eschewed, but let it be known that stretching out such fabric over one hundred feet of row is not easy, that is, when there is only one person attempting to complete the task. The ordeal was eventually accomplished, and at the end of the long day, many rows were covered and looked quite pleasing to my still youthful farming eyes. (I once pulled up the plot of property from a satellite picture, and from that distant view point, the row covered fields looked as though it was completed by a professional. A professional!)
All was good in the arena of Nev-R-Dun Farm, even as the strong forty mile per hour gusts descended upon the farm that evening. Not a thought was given to what such a strong force could do. Never again will I hear strong wind gusts outside of my house and think nothing of it. That night a frost arrived, actually, a slightly heavy frost. No matter, I thought, everything in the field was protected. The next day, I had not even entered the deer fence of the field when it became quite apparent that something was definitely wrong. Outside of the deer fence lay at least two of the hundred foot row covers twisted and contorted in a veritable mess. But how did they get there? As my truck entered the deer fence and the full scope of the field could be viewed, not a single row cover had remained in place. At the time, I suspected sabotage. The owner of a neighboring field was a hunter of deer, who used dubious means to waylay his victims. He was quite surprised when a deer fence was erected along his border, which would significantly diminish the traffic of venison to his slaughter zone. When I viewed all, all of the row covers not only ripped from the crops they were to protect, but moved so far away, even the couple of hundred of feet those ones outside of the deer fence had travelled, not to mention the eight feet of vertical movement that was required to escape the fence enclosure, there was no doubt in my mind that a nefarious entity was involved. That situation was dwelled on for quite some time, and in fact it still lingers in my mind uncertainly. The thought of such a long stretch of fabric being ripped from hundreds of pounds rocks weighing it down, then moved such a distance, and over eight feet in the air, only to land maybe ten or twenty feet outside of the deer fence, and not be carried another thousand feet across a grass field to the tree barrier did not seem right. It still does not seem right. However, as the damage the force of heavy wind can do has been experienced since that time, that situation has been relegated to wind damage, and not vandalism. Since that property is no longer under my stewardship, it is not worth any further conjecture.
Every year an attempt is made to cover over the late season crops in some fashion, only to have the plans fail miserably. Last year, clear plastic was placed over the crops and the edges were held down by long and heavy boards. Two by sixes, two by tens and two by twelves were neatly arranged so that those angry wind gusts would not disrupt the protecting plastic. The thought behind the board placement was that with rocks, there were inevitably gaps which the wind could infiltrate and thus lead to the eventual disrobing of the rows. The boards should do the trick, I thought. Wrong, yet again. As the winds arrived one evening as I went home for the day, an uneasiness was felt on whether the plastic would remain in place. Upon returning to the farm the next day, none of the plastic remained where it should have been. The heavy boards had been moved as far as twenty feet, seemingly like flotsam on the sea of plastic tussled about by the unforgiving wind. Most of the plastic was outside of the deer fence, and some was simply gone, never to be seen again. What amazing power those gusts of wind exert! It was at that point last year that I thought just maybe those row covers in the old fields were moved by Mother Nature and not some anguished deer killing neighbor. But still remains far in the past.
So, now the winds are back. I have not attempted to cover the crops at this point, and I am not sure that the effort will be made. The equation for keeping fall crops comfortable in the waning light and falling temperatures is simple enough, but once a variable such as 40 MPH wind gusts is added, the scientific notebook may as well be thrown away. I am not admitting defeat at this venture, only changed strategy. At a future date, crops in the fields will be protected from those heavy winds, but a better plan needs to be devised. For now, my late season efforts are reserved for the greenhouses. Luckily, those structures are braced by sturdy steel poles sunk deep in the ground. The plastic may tear here and there, but for the most part, the wind travels over the structure and not through it. That is my hope at least. It can be quite daunting to think of the efforts made to secure just a little more produce for the season, when the natural flow of the weather seems to be so violently against such actions. Ah, but is not farming in any season relegated to similar forces of nature?